In the eye of the beholder by chrissystriped

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In the eye of the beholder

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The links of the chain, that connected Mablung’s collar to a ring on the throne, were cold on his skin. He had been surprised when his Master had shackled him like that. He rarely did it, he knew that Mablung wouldn’t try to run. His Master was in a weird mood, anyway, pleased at the big victory but angry that Turgon had vanished again. Yesterday he had... made love (he couldn’t call that gentleness anything else) to Mablung for a long while – and today he tied him to the throne like a dog?

Mablung froze when a group of prisoners was herded in and forced to their knees before Melkor. The elves had been relieved of their armour, but the dirty, rent clothes they wore had been expensive once. They had to be captured nobles. Mablung’s heart sank as he searched their faces. Turgon had shown up on the battlefield and where Turgon was, Glorfindel surely hadn’t been far.

The thought of Glorfindel being one of the prisoners... maybe the chain was in the proper place, he didn’t know what he’d have done in that case. But Glorfindel wasn’t there, he didn’t recognise anyone, and Mablung breathed a quiet sigh of relief that turned to dread when his Master ordered in a loud voice, so the elves could hear him: “On my lap, slave.”

He felt like every person in the hall – Maiar, orcs and elves – looked at him. Not obeying the order was out of the question, of course, but he trembled when he sat on his Master’s lap. The faces of the prisoners showed dismay and revulsion. He was the Enemy’s slave, he submitted to him – of course they scorned him. It shouldn't matter, only his Master mattered, but it hurt. His Master lifted his chin and gave him a long kiss. One of the elves muttered a curse, but when Melkor’s eyes set on him he winced.

“You see my slave”, his Master said, “and are full of contempt, in the misconception that you are stronger than it.”

Mablung jerked involuntarily at the pronoun. His Master hadn’t called him that since...

“Hush”, his Master whispered to him. “I wish to play with them.”

His hand slid down Mablung’s body, tucking at one of the nipple rings before moving lower until he wrapped it around Mablung’s cock, stroking him slowly into hardness. Mablung’s cheeks were hot with humiliation at being paraded like this, but he couldn’t stifle a moan that echoed in the hall.

“Soon you’ll be disabused of that notion.”

It was one thing to be used by his Master when only his vassals were present – not that he liked that much, but he was his slave, it was nothing special – but in front of these elves... For these elves! ‘I want to play with them’, his Master had said. He did this to taunt them.

“You’ll soon be like it. Just as obedient. Just as eager for your Masters’ touch.”

Mablung gasped when his Master slid his arm under his knee and lifted his leg. He continued to stroke his arousal while the fingers of his free hand teased his entrance before sliding in. Mablung moaned again at the delicious burning sensation.

“See how much it enjoys to be touched by me – its Master? You are slaves, you are made to serve us.”

His Master kissed his neck while his fingers continued their lazy thrusts and whispered: “You are doing great, nethben.”

“And you’ll all learn that truth. Some sooner, some later.” His Master’s motions stopped, his fingers buried inside Mablung. “Look at it and see what you’ll become.”

He whimpered when the other hand vanished from his hard cock, leaving him bare to the disdainful eyes of the elves. Mablung sobbed quietly. How he must look to them... Collared, on his Master’s lap, aroused and stretched by his Master’s fingers. And the knowledge that his Master was right, that they either had to get used to this themselves or die, did little to lessen his sense of shame.

“Do you want to come, slave?”

Mablung blinked against the tears in his eyes. Did he really have to ask this much of him? But he knew what was expected of him.

“Please, herdir”, he whimpered. “If it pleases you to allow your slave release?”

He could feel his Master’s smile. “It pleases me.”

Mablung shuddered as the hand wrapped around his arousal again and the fingers inside him moved in such a way as to stimulate his prostate. For a few long, sensually torturous moments his Master made him wait and Mablung almost forgot the eyes on him, then he said:

“Come, slave.”

Mablung spilled trembling over his hand and dared to rest his head on his Master’s shoulder.

“An obedient slave cleans up its mess”, his Master said to the prisoners and lifted his wet hand to Mablung’s lips.

Mablung opened his mouth without hesitation and licked the skin clean. He could feel his Master’s arousal under him.

“You aren’t better than it, although you think you are, slaves. Think about this when my men enjoy you tonight. Take them away.”

His Master waited until the soldiers had pushed the prisoners out before he ordered: “Straddle me.”

Mablung felt him fumbling with his trousers.

“You were perfect, nethben”, his Master’s murmured into his ear as he pulled him back, entering him in one slow thrust. “So eager and aroused. They’ll have you in their minds tonight. Ride me.”

Mablung gulped – maybe they’d remember him, but in what way? – and started to move his hips obediently, impaling himself on his Master’s cock until his Master pulled him close, biting his shoulder as he came.

 

Melkor knew that he had stretched his slave to the limit today. The boy’s sense of shame had made him almost think twice about it, and when he had kneeled beside his throne afterwards, Melkor had clearly felt how hurt he was and how vulnerable. His slave needed to feel valued by him and for the humiliation of these elves he had treated him like an object. As soon as they had reached the privacy of his rooms, Melkor embraced the boy.

“I’m very proud of you, nethben”, he said softly and rubbed his neck. The boy leaned into him, but he was tense. “I know this was hard for you. Do you understand that I don’t think as little of you as I made them believe? I wanted to shock them, to humiliate them and I knew that you would obey me without fail. I couldn’t have done this with anyone else. Because you are exceptional. The best slave I ever had.”

The slave’s joy hit him like a punch in the gut. As if it were the greatest bliss to hear this from him.

“Herdir?”, the boy whispered.

“Hm?” Melkor sat down before the fire and pulled him on his lap.

“You don’t think me... weak?”

Melkor huffed. “Because you submit to me? Because you decided you want to serve me well? They are idiots to think you weak for that. And I would be an idiot where I to disdain you for giving me so much pleasure. You are a good boy... Mablung.”

He rarely called him by his name and he could hear in his music that his slave knew what it meant. Oh, he was sure that the slave hid under all that eager submission the same hatred all elves felt for him, but he hid it well. He did, what he had to do to stay alive: Please him. And he was so good at it that Melkor was content to tell him. Melkor kissed him gently and felt his shiver when his hand slid up his thigh. His cock was half-hard, as almost always when he touched him.

“Because you served me so well today, I’m inclined to allow you another orgasm.”

The boy spread his legs when he fondled his testicles, a soft moan on his lips.

“But you’ll have to earn it. Do you want to?”

“Yes, herdir, please”, his slave whimpered and moved into his touch.

So willing... Melkor grinned. He enjoyed this so much.

“Go wash yourself.” His semen had dried on the slave’s thighs and he wanted him clean. “Then come back to me.”

Melkor followed him with his eyes when he walked to the bathroom, savoured the view on his small, firm butt, the lean legs, the beautiful curly hair that he would have allowed him even longer if it wouldn’t have been in the way. The slave’s legs were damp when he came back and knelt beside him.

“Bow over my lap, nethben.”

Melkor knew that his slave liked to be spanked. No bonds, no toys, just his hand. Melkor caressed his back and kneaded his buttocks before he let his hand fall on the boy's backside with a resounding slap. He relished the feeling of the skin heating, seeing it turning red; the sounds the boy uttered – he could endure a lot, but he was vocal about it because he knew that Melkor liked that – and how his growing erection poked into his thigh.

He didn’t have to ask him if he liked it and he didn’t, not today after what he had forced him to do. He wasn’t sorry for it, not in the sense that he wouldn’t have done it again, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take note of how hard it had been for Mablung to be shown like this to other elves. He stopped before the boy’s moaning became more pained than aroused. He scratched over the sore skin and his slave shuddered.

“On the bed, nethben.”

He hurried to obey, legs spread wide. Melkor didn’t have to check if he was prepared, he always was. He entered him slowly until his belly touched the heated skin. The boy thrust back whimpering and Melkor didn’t torture him any longer, angling his thrusts so his cock slid against the boys prostrate. His hand stroked the boy’s arousal.

“If you are ready, you have my permission to come, nethben.”

It didn’t take long and Melkor found his own release as the slave's muscles trembled around him. Afterwards he embraced him and the boy snuggled into him, a content smile on his lips. The sense of hurt had vanished and Melkor was relieved about that. He didn’t like it when the boy was sad... he didn’t want to think too much about why that was the case.