Loyalty Unyielding by Zlu and Luff

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The Taming of Sauron

Warning: Slash and sexual content, so please read only if you don't mind ithose things!

A/N: The reasons for what occurs in this chapter shall be well explained later on. It is definitely not a pwp story with smut for the sake of smut, do not worry!

Chapter 2

The Taming of Sauron

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And so indeed it came to pass that to suffer for his three centuries long impertinence, Sauron, once a great craftsman of the household of Aulë, and now once more the lieutenant of Melkor, was summoned to the nethermost halls of Angband, where his master currently resided.

The floor of the stronghold where the Dark Vala dwelled was a place of terror and gloom, in recent days more so than ever, as Melkor no longer feeling as triumphant as he had about the conquest of the Silmarils, was now in great turmoil. The theft of the jewels left his foul hands burnt black and a source of constant anguish. The pain of the burns was never to cease and thus the most mundane tasks became a torment for the Dark Lord of Angband.

With Melkor's temper at its worst, all of his creatures and servants fled from his proximity, coming only when summoned, as all learnt swiftly and knew well by now the extremes to which their master could go, when his current affliction got the best of him.

Morgoth Bauglir - nearly two weeks it had taken for the name the Noldor gave him for his vile crimes to finally reach Beleriand - could not rest with the pain tormenting his every moment, waking or otherwise. And even now his lieutenant found him pacing across the spacious hall, that constituted a major part of his current dwelling. In his fury, or rather his frustration, Morgoth had toppled or else upset the furnishing of the hall and some of the adjacent rooms.

Even now, passing a table that he had not yet broken in half, the Vala kicked it, snarling furiously, content only for a glimpse, in that short moment when the table collapsed and fell to splinters on the dark floor. Then, abandoning his most recent inanimate victim where it lay and apparently absorbed by his anger failing to yet notice the arrival of Sauron, Morgoth progressed through the hall to finally stop, enthralled - or trying to force himself to be so - by his own reflection in the mirror.

The light of the Silmarils in his crown reflected from the surface of the looking glass, blinding him somewhat and making the Black Enemy wince and narrow his eyes, that were by now well used to the reflexions of the jewels' light on the dark walls and floors of Angband, but not yet to that of their full splendor.

Melkor stood in place awhile, fighting back the urge to rub the burnt skin of his aching hands with his equally aching fingers, for he knew it would bring no comfort, only further enhance his suffering. Despite all, he still looked splendid, Morgoth concluded. Too beautiful to bear and his hands itched and he balled them into fists and at once regretted that gesture dearly.

Sauron watched his master's silent rage from the threshold of the open door where he silently stood, a big black shadow against the torchlight that played on the walls. Clad in dark and intimidating armor the Maia was, one that he always wore when attending to his duties in the dark stronghold and elsewhere. He stood there a long while, giving his master more time to destroy the surroundings and admire his glory as he wondered what punishment Melkor had taken whole two weeks to devise for him.

In the end, Sauron entered the hall, treading as lightly as he could not to displease his lord even further. As he came closer his eyes were briefly drawn to the Silmarils that shone bright as always in his Melkor's crown and he regarded them with a hint of sadness, knowing well now how obsessed and beguiled his master was by their beauty. When Melkor had claimed the precious jewels of Feanor for himself and first brought them into Angband to set them into the crown of iron, his master's joy and triumph had known no bounds. But as days passed the dark mirth of their taking seemed to die down in the black heart of Melkor, slowly replaced by anger that now, two weeks later was taking a heavy toll on all that dwelt in the fortress but heaviest on Melkor himself.

Watching him from afar, Sauron understood the source of his master's anger. It was the price the Dark Vala had paid to win the Silmarils and the realization of its finality that Melkor was becoming so painfully aware of. Having resolved never to take the crown off of his head, the Black Enemy would each day look perforce more often at his burnt hands than at the splendid gems he took in his possession. Only in the mirrors, many of which he had in the recent days ordered to be installed all over the fortress, Melkor could now behold the three precious stones.

And behold the Silmarils he did, long and often, yet looking into the mirror and gazing upon the reflection of their light so bright and pristine, Morgoth would always and eternally be reminded of just how black and marred forever the hands that had once touched them so victoriously now were. And he would too be reminded of the pain that from that fateful day on was to forever keep him company.

Coming closer but still not too close, Sauron stopped, waiting for his lord to at last look away from his reflection. Melkor bid him to come here to at last receive the punishment that he deserved and so he had come, dutiful as always. Yet the chief lieutenant of Melkor was well familiar with the fits of anger and rapid outbursts his master was capable of - those used to happen oft in the days of yore - and therefore he made sure not to startle the Vala now. And thus patiently, he waited and only when Melkor finally became aware of his presence did he state, "Thou hast called upon me, master."

"Indeed, I have," Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the World, tore his eyes from the looking glass and turned to face his most trusted lieutenant, impatiently. "Come with me, the time for thy new duty has come." The lord of Angband strode towards one of the doors, that was already ajar and opened it fully with a mighty kick. The sound of the door smashing against the dark wall of the chamber resonated in the empty hall. Like this Morgoth led his loyal servant into a less spacious room, that hosted a bed of enormous size. "Thy punishment shall be one that none will know about but thou and I."

Sauron, never the one to question his lord's bidding, followed in Melkor's wake, silently lamenting the fate of the finely crafted doors being opened in such a manner, most likely for days on end. Soon however he forgot all about the doors, for when he took another step, he found suddenly that he was no longer in need to step lightly. Sauron's iron clad feet tread on the fine carpet now and his eyes gazed upon the chamber that he had never before seen. Neither recently nor even in days long gone, before the chaining of Melkor.

Many ages back, given the task of overseeing the order within the stronghold, Sauron would spend his days attending to the everyday matters of Angband but that was hardly the only task that kept him busy. After a day of duties, each evening - once as well as presently - he would spend in the bowels of his own fiery smithy, forging and enchanting various objects that Morgoth desired. Every third morning he would leave to patrol the outposts manned with Orcs and Balrog captains. He would beside that inspect the ongoing construction, assist Morgoth in the matters of the army and give flesh to all the many plans and schemes that Melkor came up with but in the haste of his malice forgot about altogether, as always. Given all those tasks, Sauron had little time or reason to ever step into his master's private quarters in Angband. Especially since it was not he but lesser servants that were tasked with keeping the chambers ready for their master's return.

But he was here now. In room no other than Melkor's bedchamber and thus he had to be cautious. Given the surroundings and Melkor's cryptic words, whatever it was that his lord was about to command, it had no precedent in history of his service to the Vala. Beholding Melkor, Sauron spoke calmly and warily, "Tell me now the service thou requirest of me, my lord. Thy will shall be done." With those words said, the master craftsman of Angband awaited his dark lord's reply.

Morgoth approached the tremendous bed and he sat down on the edge of it. His fiery eyes slowly studied his lieutenant with a scrutinizing look. "First and foremost, do lock the door. Then take off thy gauntlets, for the matter is delicate," Morgoth commanded from where he reclined and as the ever obedient Maia set to work on his first, simple assignment, the Dark Lord kicked off his boots one after another and rested his bare feet on the carpet.

As the dark wooden doors, that still held strong despite the dozens of times Morgoth vented his fury on them were closed and bolted by Sauron's hand, betraying on his face no visible confusion as to what task might require both secrecy and delicacy at once, Melkor's second in command took off a gauntlet and then another as told, daring to rest them on an area of empty space on one of toppled pieces of furniture.

Sauron's hands that became revealed now from under his gloves, were big, like those of a blacksmith that the Maia originally was in the household of Aulë, before his treachery and undertaking of a more all-encompassing and satisfying range of tasks under Melkor's command. Like that, clad in armor still and only devoid of his gauntlets and helmet that he would oft chose not to wear out of convenience, while inside the stronghold, Sauron stood before his lord, looking at him with question in his eyes.

Morgoth beheld him, lost in his own thoughts and said naught for a while. Then though he stirred and it appeared that he had changed his mind, or as was usual for Melkor, grew tired of being in one place. And so the Dark Lord rose from the bed and moved to stand several steps to the side from Sauron, in front of yet another mirror, into which he peered, admiring the glow of the Silmarils once more. When finally he spoke, his words rang thus: "Come hither and undo my robe."

The eyes of the Maia widened and there was a slight hesitation - a momentary delay - after the order was spoken as for a second the Sauron was not sure if he had heard right. However asking for his lord to repeat orders was never one of the man's habits and so the dark Maia took a step forth and then the next two, until he found himself beside his lord, stealing just the briefest glance at their common reflection in the mirror that Melkor and him now both stood in front of. Then the lieutenant of Morgoth looked away from the mirror and reached out to touch the first of the fine robe's many buttons.

Before his fingers brushed against the fabric however, Sauron's hands stopped and he awaited the ultimate confirmation. For Melkor himself he had also never before touched.

"Carry on without hesitation, as long as thou remainest mindful of my hands," Melkor lifted one of his burnt hands briefly, but as the dark silhouette of his palm approached his face and the crown that framed it at the top, Melkor withdrew his hand as if still fearing new burns from the creations of Feanor.

Instructed to continue, with a nod of his head and no further delay Sauron proceeded onto the task slowly, moving button after button down Morgoth's clothes Sauron wore when in no need of armor, were always simple, practical and well suited for the work that he was doing. Melkor's robes however were always the finest of the fine and they had many more buttons, clasps and decorations than was possibly needed.

The hands of Morgoth's lieutenant although, despite being big and rough, were also taught the greatest precision since times immemorial and so soon Melkor's robes fell open and with the task at hand completed, Sauron now withdrew to stand in some distance from his lord where his reflection would no longer disrupt his master's own. There silently he awaited further orders, as he questioned himself in his thoughts what it was that his lord would now state that he required.

Morgoth appeared to approve of the performance as he now beheld his magnificent reflection with a shadow of a smirk. Despite being located in the north, Angband with its smithies, balrog pits and volcanic flows was not as cold a place as the dwellers of Middle-earth likely pictured. Not inside. And definitely not in Melkor's quarters. Thus now, as the silky robes slid smoothly down his frame, the lord of Angband stood bare in front of the mirror. "Now thy pride shall be humbled and thou shalt once more learn thy place. On thy knees," Melkor pointed one black finger at the carpet at his feet.

Hearing those words, Sauron stayed silent and for a moment he moved not from the place where he stood. To sink to one knee before Melkor's throne when it was required was one matter and to be humbled in this way, forced to his knees in the Vala's own bed chamber was quite another and Melkor knew it well and with cunning chose this way exactly to subdue his proud servant.

The Maia stayed still for almost too long. So long that his stillness began to seem to Melkor as yet another act of defiance. Then finally Sauron moved from place and he stepped towards Morgoth, slowly and with great reluctance it seemed, sinking to his knees before him.

Melkor grinned darkly, basking in the power he held over Sauron and the humiliation of his servant. The sight of the kneeling Maia pleased him so much, that Melkor's flesh stiffened without the slightest touch as in a dark and lecherous whisper he commanded "Pleasure thy lord now, Sauron."

Sauron harkened in silence from the carpet on which he knelt and his eyes, averted in shame before narrowed as the command was spoken and they rose to gaze up at Melkor, truly unreadable as flames played inside them.

"Go on," Melkor commanded sternly, peering down with satisfaction at his humbled servant.

At that, Sauron's eyes once again looked elsewhere and the command of Melkor was heeded at last. Giving no sign of what thoughts were now in his mind, the humiliated Maia slowly lifted his hands but rather than taking right to the duty of properly pleasing his lord just yet, he ran his big fingers up the Vala's calves and behind his knees, letting them slowly and gently travel up Morgoth's thighs until finally they lingered on his hip bones, almost dark against Melkor's snowy skin.

Melkor's eyes followed every movement of his servant's hands. And as those did not get right to the task, the Vala took it for signs of humility, hesitation and perhaps unwillingness. And he was almost about to clear his throat and repeat his order third time, making his impatience very clear to his servant, when Sauron bowed his head and taking a hold of his flesh, took Melkor into his mouth, beginning to please his lord in the manner he thought the Vala desired.

Yet when he had done that, Melkor barely managed to hold back a gasp of surprise. Succeeding in that, in amazed silence Melkor beheld the sight of Sauron at his feet, for the Maia was indeed fulfilling his order, but not in the way Morgoth had expected. When Sauron's hands travelled over his skin he was obviously waiting for their touch. This he had not foreseen or planned on. Having been trapped in his physical form for mere weeks now and having been too absorbed by his vile plans in ages before that, the Dark Vala had not experienced much of the pleasures of the flesh or known much about the many ways the carnal pleasure could be given. Ever since his return though, as he was forced to stay incarnate, he found his thoughts wandering back to this issue, yet burning of his hands had left Melkor quite dissatisfied with the few times he had attempted gaining at least some pleasure from his predicament. That was one of the reasons why he had resolved to leave this task to the Maia instead.

Having Sauron humbly fall to his knees please him seemed like a very cunning punishment to Melkor and Sauron's failure to simply touch him with his hands did nothing to make Melkor change his mind or regret the decision. In fact now, as Sauron's lips and tongue pleased him so skilfully the Vala concluded that punishing his lieutenant this way might have been one of his brightest ideas as of late.

As Sauron carried on, Melkor heaved a sigh of pleasure. Beholding his humbled servant, Melkor felt his breath grow uneven and heat gather in his loins. Soon however came another part that he had not foreseen or planned on and his knees began feeling weaker and weaker, threatening to give away under him if Sauron was to continue. Such was the effect of the great pleasure bestowed upon him by his servant's touch and Morgoth cursed the mirror, that he had left the bed for, now he was not looking at it.

To save himself from the prospect of an unlordly fall into the Maia's arms, or an equally shameful shaking of his knees, Melkor barked with annoyance, "Enough! Rise and stand behind me, Sauron. I wish to be able to behold my whole self in the mirror, as thou pleasest me with thy hands this time."

And Sauron obeyed him this time as well, leaving his place at Melkor's feet and rising slowly, saying not a word still and looking not in Melkor's eyes. Silently he came to stand behind his lord in such way where Melkor would be able to behold mostly his splendid self and less of his servant, and he squinted his eyes at the bright light of the Silmarils reflected from the mirror's surface. Beside the Simlarils however he saw the reflected image of his lord, splendid, pale and aroused with a dark crown upon his fiery hair and Sauron drew a deep breath, his hands slowly coming to ghost against Melkor's sides at first and then making contact fully.

The big fingers of the master craftsman ran at first down along the Vala's ribs and as they reached the line of Melkor's waist they came forth to caress the hip bones and brush against his stomach. It was a strangest choice of touch, for someone who, punished like Sauron now, was meant to feel deep humiliation and dislike the lowly duty.

Melkor wondered about his servant's motives, but only briefly, for soon Sauron's hand slid lower and fulfilled Morgoth's earlier order and all thought was banished from the Vala's mind. When his servant's hands moved between his legs, the Vala watched his reflection in the mirror, letting out another sigh of pleasure. When his breath grew shallow again, and weakness threatened his legs once more, he took a step back, leaning against Sauron. Slowly he rested his heavy head on his lieutenants shoulder and with his half-lidded eyes beheld his reflection in the mirror. Under caress of the Maia, Morgoth enjoyed himself so much, that he forgot about the purpose with which he had given Sauron his initial order.

Meanwhile Sauron's hands parted their ways and as one worked most dutifully between Melkor's legs, the other, brazen one, ventured up the Vala's chest where carefully the big fingers caressed one of Morgoth's pale, nipples that at once grew hard under the touch.

Despite being capable of cutting an elf's or even an orc's head clean off with a sword, waging war and bringing death and misery upon his foes in any shape he took on himself, strangely enough, Sauron suddenly turned out to be capable of a delicate and precise touch. However when one thought about the hundreds of decades the Maia had spent on the craft that encompassed not only the forging of weapons and armors but also crafting things as precious, miniscule and gentle as jewelry, perhaps it was not so strange a discovery after all.

As he pleased his lord, Sauron's eyes stayed hidden and his face remained obscured by the soft flames of Morgoth's hair and by the crown of iron.

But Melkor did not seek to discern the look on Sauron's face. More than that even, he studied himself in the mirror no more. His eyes finally lidded fully and slowly his awareness of Sauron's presence faded. There was touch, but he attempted to pretend it was his own, for the Vala had always been too proud to share his bliss with others, and thus having another touch him this way was new to him. And yet finally the free will of the caress that was bestowed on him became all too apparent to Melkor, for both the rhythm and the placement were foreign and the Vala felt odd excitement build in him, increasing the pleasure tenfold. And so he could not hold back a moan, that left his lips, as Sauron's touch made his knees grow even weaker than before.

The moment when the Dark Enemy closed his eyes was the moment Sauron at last lifted his own and dared to gaze upon the perfect, pale and at the same time fiery image of Melkor reflected in the mirror. And beautiful Melkor was indeed, despite having lost the ability to disincarnate and shift his shapes when he had - with Ungoliant's help - one after another destroyed the two Trees of Valar, slain Finwe and stolen the Silmarils that now shone inside the crown of iron. Back then, having taken onto himself a form of a dark lord, tall and fearsome and clad in dark armor, he was from that day on to be trapped forever in that very shape. And yet what his enemies knew naught of - it meant not that underneath the dark armor he was as fearsome and terrible as on the outside and he also retained the ability to shrink and grow taller at will.

Therefore despite not being able to travel as a disembodied spirit or take unto himself shapes of monsters, beasts and other many races of Arda, Melkor was still a splendid sight to behold. And gazing into the mirror Sauron Gorthaur fixed his eyes greedily on the image of Morgoth.

As a moan escaped his master's lips, Sauron's touch grew bolder and he pulled his lord closer against the armor that just as the fortress itself was not as cold and unpleasant to the touch as it could initially seem. The hand that before lingered on Melkor's chest now slowly slid up his skin, and the tips of Sauron's fingers brushed against the crook of Melkor's neck.

The Vala groaned quietly, obliviously thrusting into Sauron's hand. His own hands gripped the air, as he struggled to restrain himself from any touch in order not to ruin the bliss by mixing the ache of his burnt hands into it. By now he lost himself completely in pleasure, not caring or dwelling on what it was like for Sauron right now, if he was humbled or not at all. Melkor moaned loudly, feeling his pleasure escalating. "Harder!"

And once again Sauron did his bidding, one hand stroking the dark lord's erection as the other hesitated and instead of sliding higher up and touching the Vala's face or burying itself in the soft, fiery hair, fell back down and pulled the Vala closer, making Melkor lean fully against his lieutenant's armored chest. That was when Sauron's short nails ran up his master's body starting from the soft skin of Morgoth's lower stomach and ending their journey right next to his collarbone. There, hesitantly touching his neck again and ghosting against the line of Melkor's jaw the fingers lingered for a moment, before falling down once more and never coming back up again.

Melkor exhaled, groaning mindlessly, and for a moment he still thrust into Sauron's palm, until finally with a mix of Eldar and Ainur curses he climaxed, shuddering violently and leaning heavily and without restraint against his lieutenant as his chest heaved with shuddering breaths.

Only then did Morgoth open his eyes and look into the mirror again. And there he saw not just himself, but the man embracing him, and it stirred an odd, unknown feeling in his black heart, that bordered on unrest, amidst the immediate carnal pleasure. He shook it off, quickly, almost cravenly, withdrawing from Sauron's arms. "Thou didst well. And thou shalt not speak of this to anyone," he reminded Sauron, despite knowing the man always remembered orders given even only once. After a moment he noted also "Thou dost not appear humbled enough. We shall have to repeat this."

The armored Maia nodded his head, stepping away and looking away as well. Not down, Sauron never truly cast his eyes down, not even before his master - he was as proud as a Maia could be and even more so to be Melkor's right hand. He merely turned the gaze of his eyes to the side and there also he directed his step, to pick up the gauntlets he had earlier discarded.

"Would that be all thou demandest of me at present, my darkest lord?" He asked as he retrieved the missing pieces of his armor, even now keeping his eyes where Melkor could not peer into them.

The Vala regarded his lieutenant briefly and then cast his glance downwards onto his nakedness and the robes that lay on the carpet. "Not yet, Sauron Thou shalt now dress me," the Dark Lord commanded, not caring that the Maia began putting his gauntlets back on.

Without a word Sauron obliged and dropped the dark gauntlets again, lifting the previously discarded robes from the floor silently. He lifted them and he held them spread behind Melkor for the Black Enemy to slide his burnt hands into the silky sleeves.

And Morgoth Bauglir did that with a wince, as his burnt skin slid against the smooth fabric, causing him minor discomfort. Finally his hands were out of the sleeves and as Sauron began buttoning his robes again, Morgoth watched his servant with a frown of his fiery brows. Sauron was clearly eluding his gaze. "Look at me," Morgoth commanded, to see what made his lieutenant hide his eyes.

Slowly, with utmost reluctance the dark-haired man lifted his head and met the searching gaze of his master and peered upon Melkor's pale countenance with his own eyes of fire that blazed in a way Melkor had never before seen them blaze. With eyes filled to the brim with desire and lust so bright it melted into liquid flames. That was what Sauron had attempted in vain to hide from his master.

Melkor's own eyes widened and he stepped away, looking wrathful. "Forget thy lust, Sauron, for the Silmarils are mine and mine alone! Thou shalt not have them, lest I fall. And if thou darest plot against me, I shall destroy thee, so give me not reasons for doubting thy loyalty!" the Dark Vala spoke in great anger. He would not yield the Silmarils to anyone, but he valued his lieutenant and was ready to forgive this slip, if the Maia kept himself in check in the future.

Sauron's eyes widened as well for a brief moment. Then however the Maia bowed his head and quietly he spoke the words, and admitted his guilt "I erred, my liege but it shall not happen again. The Silmarils are indeed thine and thine alone and none else shall claim them." With that Sauron lifted his eyes again and the fire that blazed inside them wavered and grew dimmer but never died out completely.

Morgoth was disturbed. He had grown used to feeling secure in the halls of Angband, despite his doubts about Sauron's prideful acts, and valued the Maia too much to brand him a traitor and be done with it. Good lieutenants were hard to come by. "Finish dressing me and go then, get thy mind off of my Silmarils and dwell not on them. Thou hast not asked a price for thy service and thou shalt not be paid in these jewels," Morgoth spoke even as Sauron returned to the task of dressing him, for he felt a need to ensure Sauron did not go through with his lust for possessing the stones, for it would be most unfortunate for both of them.

And Sauron nodded his head once more, swearing on things dark and sinister that the Silmarils were forever safe from the touch of his hand. With that, dismissed from his duty he was soon gone and yet the hunger and longing that Morgoth had glimpsed in his lieutenant's blazing eyes were bound to leave the Dark Vala restless despite the Maia's most solemn vow.

* * *

Since that day on, Morgoth's creatures spied on Sauron inside the dark walls of Angband and all his deeds were reported to Morgoth. And the Dark Foe of the World grew ever more unsettled, for he was told that after leaving his quarters on that day Sauron fled to his own rooms, where he gave in to carnal pleasures. That convinced Morgoth all the more that Sauron lusted for the Silmarils as well and would now plot against him in order to come into their possession. But despite that, Melkor did not yet want to get rid of his rebellious servant, hoping that Sauron would be wiser and realize he could not win against his lord, no matter what path he should choose. For Morgoth did not desire his death or horrible suffering, and death and horrible suffering were the least of punishments for traitors in Angband. And he had a reputation to build anew.

Moreover, Sauron had not been humbled yet and Melkor decided he should live at least long enough to learn his lesson, especially since it proved to be one, the Vala was so pleased to teach

Chapter End Notes

Taliesin @ Thank you so much for your review, it was extremely lovely and motivating and after reading it we were happy all day long that someone enjoys this story so much! We hope to hear more from you! :3

And thus Sauron was subdued and forever learnt his place... or did he? And is it even the Silmarills that he craves?

Love it? Hate it? Want to kill us with fire or shower us with gold for writing this madness? Should we write more or forever stay silent? Tell us! Here, on deviantart or on tumblr, anywhere you please! :3 (just please do! XD)

 

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