Initiation by chrissystriped

Fingon offered Maedhros a seat and then poured him a glass of wine. They rarely met here, at his rooms, usually going out for a drink or dinner at one of the many restaurants and bars of Tirion, but today he wanted the safety of his own home — and no prying ears around them. Maedhros reached for his glass with his left hand, he still did a lot of things as if he had only one, despite his body having been made whole at his rebirth. Conversation flowed easily, talking about their families and general gossip, but Fingon felt tense. He’d had a reason for inviting Maedhros today, one he’d thought about for a long time. He took a fortifying gulp from his glass and said: “I’ve heard rumours about your grand-father’s place.” Maedhros, who’d just talked about the recent publication of a particularly outrageous ballad about the way he and Maglor had found the twins — Elrond’s coming to Aman had made it all come up again — blinked at him. 

“What rumours?”, he said slowly. 

“I think you know that”, Fingon said tensely. “I want to remind you that I did read those letters. You can’t be unaware of the secret… nightclub Mahtan has going.” 

“And you disapprove of… me and Nolofinwe going there? …it existing at all?” Maedhros had tensed, a worried look on his face. 

“No!”, Fingon quickly said and took another gulp of his wine. “I told you, I’m not going to be difficult about your relationship with my father. I just… I find myself intrigued. NOT about your relationship with my father, but with the general… practices?” 

A smirk was playing around Maedhros mouth — damn him! — and he sounded decidedly amused when he asked: “’Practices’?” 

“Oh, you know what I mean!” Fingon curled up in his chair. His face must look like a tomato by now. “Whips and chains and what-have-you.” 

“I’m sorry”, Maedhros sobered. “I was just teasing. But… correct me, if I’m wrong, but I thought you didn’t care much for sex.” 

“I don’t”, Fingon said firmly. “That hasn’t changed.” 

He didn’t want Maedhros to doubt that, it hurt enough that people wondered — loudly — at him having that ‘defect’ even after his rebirth. But something had changed. He’d been shocked when he’d found the love letters — (more like detailed instructions for masturbation, really) — Maedhros had sent his father. Shocked that the relationship existed at all, but also at how deviant the practices described were. He’d never known… not about his father, of course, but he’d always thought he knew Maedhros as well as himself. It had stung a little. It had surprised him even more, when the things he’d read, sneaked into his dreams. Not with Maedhros and his father as the protagonists, thankfully. No, he’d dreamed of himself being tied up, beaten, teased by… someone — his partner had never had a face. And his body had reacted, more strongly than he’d ever known before. 

“I tried it”, he said in a clipped voice. “Sex. In this new life. My body works the right way, I suppose, at least no one complained, and my body likes it just fine. It’s just… my mind is not in it. I find the act incredibly boring. I catch myself thinking about the tasks for the next day during it. I don’t care, whether I do it or not.” 

Fingon squirmed. Even to Maedhros he had never told this quite so openly. 

“Most men would say that the brain really is not the important part of the anatomy when it comes to sex”, Maedhros said with a grin. “But I disagree. I know this is a very sensitive topic for you and I thank you for your trust, Fingon. But I still don’t understand what this has to do with Mahtan’s… yes, let’s call it a nightclub.” 

“There’s… stories. In print”, Fingon said quickly, breathlessly, because he knew he wouldn’t get the words out, if he stopped to think. “I read them. I masturbate to them. It occupies my mind and then I like it very much. I thought, I’d like to try the real thing. But it’s hard to get in, if you have no one to speak for you and so I thought…” 

“I’ll get you an invite”, Maedhros said with a smile on his lips. “I’ll talk to some people and show you around. You’ll get to know some of my friends there. No one is going to judge you. Nothing is going to get out.” 

Fingon reached out and squeezed Maedhros’s hand. “Thank you.” He felt relieved that his cousin didn’t question his ideas. 

“I’m glad to help you.” Maedhros squeezed his hand back. “I know how it is to have these thoughts and no one to talk to. You’ll be fine.”

Fingon felt a fine tremble run persistently through his body. It wasn't that he was afraid, no, just… nervous. He squared his shoulders, made himself tall (he always felt like a child next to Maedhros) and smiled at the Elf — Urundil — Maedhros had introduced him to. 

“I’ll fetch us something to drink”, Maedhros said and before Fingon could stop him from leaving him alone with a stranger, he was gone. 

“Ah.” Fingon smiled nervously at Urundil. “This is larger than I thought. I mean, I know the size of Mahtan’s banquet hall, but…” 

He looked around. The room was packed full with people in magnificent clothes (or none at all, occasionally) sitting (or kneeling) around tables and in little separees, made by paravents. The stage was hung closed, a part of Fingon’s mind wondered what kind of performances were staged there. 

“Oh yes, we are not that rare.” Urundil winked at him. “You’d be surprised about who shares our appetites.” 

“I know my father comes here. Believe me, no one is going to surprise me”, Fingon replied deadpan. “It’s okay”, he added at Urundil’s uncertain look. “I’ve made my peace with my father and Maedhros long ago.” 

Urundil gave a quick nod. “I don’t intend to pry, that’s none of my business.” A cocky grin came to his lips. “So, when you decided to come here, what was it, you wanted to happen to you?” 

“Something interesting”, Fingon answered. “I don’t know how much Maedhros told you…” 

“Just that you wanted to have a taste.” 

“Well…” Fingon hesitated as it occurred to him that he would tell this stranger more about himself than he’d told a lot of his family. “I don’t care much about sex. I find it boring, my mind wanders. But I’ve realised that masturbating”, his breath hitched, because this was not a word he was usually saying out loud, “to certain stories is giving me pleasure. And I thought, I’d try it for real. See if someone here can make my mind shut up, overwhelm me.” 

Urundil smirked. “Oh, I’m sure that can be arranged.” 

Maedhros put three cups of wine on the table and sat down. “Getting along well?”, he asked. “Should I leave you two to each other?” 

Fingon blushed. He had thought about how it would be to let Urundil… do these things to him, if only because he was the first person with these inclinations he’d met, who was not one of his relatives. But he was good looking. 

“Up to your cousin”, Urundil said with a smile at Fingon. “I’d be happy to… show him around.” 

Fingon felt his heart beat quicker in his chest now that he realised he was closer to having his curiosity satisfied than he’d thought. 

“I… yes, I think I’d like that”, he answered breathlessly. 

“Alright then”, Maedhros patted his back. “Have fun and see you later.” He got up and sauntered away. 

“Relax”, said Urundil and drank a sip of wine. “It won’t start right this minute and you can change your mind anytime, if you want to. But if we’re doing this, I need to know a little more. Are there any shadows, any fears I should know about? Or anything you really would not want me to do?” 

Fingon slowly shook his head. “Unless… well, I don’t like fire that much anymore.” He had barely any memories of his death — which was a good thing, he thought — but he felt uncomfortable, if he came to sit too close to an open fire and sometimes woke drenched in sweat from dreaming of scorching flames. 

“I’ll be mindful of that”, Urundil answered. “Have you any preferences on what I should call you? I usually call my partners ‘plaything’, but I’m flexible there. You are going to call me ‘my lord’.” 

Fingon swallowed and felt a hot shiver running down his spine. “Of course”, he croaked. “And ‘plaything’ is fine.” 

Someone to be used, someone to be done with as Urundil pleased. Urundil smiled knowingly, as if he could sense his reaction. 

“And what do you imagine? You must have had ideas before coming here today.” 

“Lots and nothing.” Fingon blushed. “I mean, I’ve read… a lot. Anything I could get my hands on, really. I have so many things in my head. And at the same time, I really know nothing. What do I know about how I’d react to being beaten. What if it doesn’t work for me?” The nervousness was back. 

“Then we’ll change tack.” Urundil squeezed his hand. “Never forget that all of this is happening with your consent. I’ll give you a taste — a little domination, a little pain — there are no expectations. You can make me stop any time. Take a deep breath.” 

Fingon obeyed and felt better for it. “Thank you”, he smiled. “And I’m sorry I’m so twitchy.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for. Now, I have one rule myself: I only have penetrative sex with long-time partners. But by what you’ve said before, I think you don’t mind?” 

“That’s fine for me.” He was a bit relieved actually. It took some pressure away. “As I’ve said, I’m not much into sex.” 

Urundil nodded. “We’ll see, yes. There’s not no pleasure to be had, obviously, but I will force nothing. I respect you the way you are.” 

Fingon suddenly had a hard time to hold back tears. He had not known how important it was for him to hear these words. He had not realised how nervous he’d been about not being accepted even here, where everyone was different from the norm. 

“Thank you”, he said again. “Yes, I think… I think that sounds very good.” 

Urundil stood up and offered him his hand. “Then let’s go upstairs. If you feel ready.” 

“I do.” 

Fingon took his hand and let himself be led towards the stairs to the upper floors. His heart started to race when he noticed the suitcase Urundil was carrying and his mind started to wonder what was inside. Urundil motioned for him to step into the room first and closed the door behind them. Fingon had a moment to eye the bed and a rack with various… implements on the far wall, before his attention was drawn back to the other elf. Urundil put down the suitcase beside an armchair before he came back to him and circled him slowly. 

“Well, well, well. Let’s see what we have here, plaything, shall we?” 

Fingon forgot to breathe when Urundil started to undress him. 

“Now, don’t forget that you can tell me to stop at any time, but for as long as you don’t, you are mine. Mine to command. Mine to do with as I please. Do you understand?” 

“Yes”, Fingon croaked. “Yes, my lord.” 

“Good.” 

Urundil’s hand wandered down his back before he stepped around him again and looked him over. Fingon blushed and fought against the urge to cover himself. He was not overly bashful but being scrutinised like this… 

“Pretty thing.” Urundil smirked. “I’m pleased that I was chosen to give you a first taste.” He sat down in the armchair and nodded at the suitcase beside him. “Would you like to know what is inside, plaything?” 

“Yes, my lord.” It was not hard for Fingon to remember to call him that. It was court etiquette to call the king ‘Your Majesty’, even as a relative. This was not so different. 

“Then open it.” 

Fingon crouched down — he had a hunch he should be kneeling, but it felt too vulnerable without an order — and opened the latches with slightly trembling hands. 

“Not all of this is going to be put to use tonight”, Urundil said while Fingon’s eyes moved over the content. There were whips and paddles and crops, plugs and padded cuffs. “But some of it.” 

He lifted out a velvet bag and opened the drawstring, letting a pair of clamps, linked by a chain, fall into his palm. 

“Come here, plaything.” Urundil patted his thigh. “On my lap.” 

Fingon straddled him, feeling a humiliated thrill rush through him at being called like a lapdog. 

“I can see you keep yourself in shape”, Urundil said, tracing the muscles of his abdomen with a finger. 

Fingon was acutely aware that his cock was brushing the fabric of Urundil’s trousers. It had filled slightly, but the arousal didn’t reach his brain, as so often. 

“Don’t think of that”, Urundil said and laid his hand on top of his cock. Fingon took a deep breath because his body definitely took interest in that. “We are not having sex today, you have not earned it and you won’t today. I demand much more from my playthings than you can give me being so inexperienced.” 

He should be relieved — Urundil had told him before, that he would not fuck him — but at his dismissive words Fingon’s competitiveness raised its head. 

“Are you so sure of that, my lord?” Fingon fluttered his eyelashes at him. 

“Cocky, plaything?” Urundil chuckled. “We’ll see.” 

Fingon squeaked and then blushed at the sound when the clamps were fastened around his nipples. He relaxed again, when the first flash of pain subsided. It really wasn’t that bad. Urundil hooked his finger into the chain and pulled sharply. Fingon gasped when the clamps tightened. 

“I like that look on your face, plaything”, he purred and pulled again. 

Fingon’s nipples protested, pulsing in the iron grip, he bit his lip. 

“Pretty plaything.” 

Urundil circled his nipples with a fingernail and Fingon drew a shuddering breath wondering at how good it felt mixed with the burning in his chest. Urundil took two of his braids and wrapped them around his hand, tugging to make him stand up. 

“Let’s take this to the bed, plaything.” He did not let go of his hair while he led him the few steps over. “Kneel on the bed, plaything.” 

Fingon obeyed, marvelling at how gently Urundil delivered his orders. He’d expected it to be more like being addressed like soldiers were. He could not deny that it had a calming effect on him. He felt save, even though he knew Urundil would beat him shortly and do who knew what other things to him. First he laid a hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him down so Fingon sank to his hands and knees. Fingon looked down between his legs and watched him strap two padded leather cuffs around his ankles. Urundil saw it and smirked at him. 

“Curious, plaything?”, he teased. 

“Yes, my lord”, Fingon answered truthfully. 

“Good, good.” 

Urundil patted his backside then went over to the rack retrieving a pole that he hooked into the rings of the cuffs, forcing Fingon to keep his legs spread. A thrill of excitement rushed through Fingon’s body, quickly followed by another as Urundil squeezed his ass. “It’s going to be my pleasure to redden these.” 

His hand slapped on Fingon’s skin. Fingon gasped, it wasn’t very painful at first, but the sting of the slaps blended into each other, his skin warming. 

“Like that, plaything?”, Urundil asked. 

“Yes, my lord.” It was not as easy to enjoy as the stories. But he was short of breath, his heart was racing and his cock… well, definitely still interested in the goings on. 

“So you’re a naughty boy, after all.” Urundil chuckled and Fingon blushed, the feeling of shame not unpleasant. “Let’s see what you’ll say to this.” 

Urundil picked a leather paddle from his suitcase. The sting of it was much sharper and soon had Fingon’s ass in flames, sweat  beading on his back. Urundil slowly moved through his implements giving him a taste of each, the quality of the pain changing depending on what he used. Fingon felt his mind cloud as the pleasure-mingled pain mounted. He let it, giving himself over to the feelings. He shuddered, pleasure rushing through his body when Urundil dragged his nails over his burning skin. 

“I’m very pleased by your performance, plaything”, Urundil said, wrapping a hand around his cock. “You’ve earned yourself an orgasm.” 

Fingon moaned as he pumped him, his nails still scratching over his throbbing backside. He rocked into Urundil’s hand, only a little part of his mind thinking that this wasn’t really necessary. He whimpered, tears shooting to his eyes, when Urundil removed the clamps from his nipples, the pain of blood flooding back into them pushing him over the edge. He slumped down gasping and trembling.

“So, what do you think?”, Urundil asked later while he was taking the cuffs off his ankles. The grin in his voice  said clearly he already knew. 

“I enjoyed it very much”, Fingon said, rising to his elbows with a groan to better look over his shoulder at him. “But what about you?” 

“Oh, I’ve had my pleasure and found my release.” Urundil winked at him while he spread a cooling salve over Fingon’s burning skin. “But I don’t take offence at you not noticing.” 

Fingon huffed a laugh and let himself sink back down. “When do we have to leave this room?”, he asked, not feeling much inclined to dress right now. 

Urundil lay down beside him. “We can stay a while longer. Mind sufficiently overwhelmed, then?” 

“Very. Thank you.” 

Urundil smiled. “My pleasure.”

“I usually wouldn’t bring this up to a newbie”, Urundil said after a while, lazily stroking Fingon’s back, “but I think you could handle it and it surely would make your mind feel overwhelmed.” 

“Hmm?” Fingon’s body felt delightfully heavy, his nipples smarted and his ass burned but somehow — inexplicably — that felt satisfying after what they’d done just now. He still wasn’t sure he needed an orgasm, but the whole experience had been completely satisfying. “What do you have in mind?” 

“Have you ever been in an orgy?” 

Fingon lifted his head and blinked blearily down at Urundil. “I think I’m dreaming?”, he asked. 

Urundil laughed. “No, but maybe I should wait until your head is a little clearer.” 

Fingon rubbed his face. “No, I can think — I think. What is this about an orgy?” 

“Me and some people I know have discussed at several points about having one.” 

“What people? How many?” 

“Six, with me. You’d know some. Ingwion, surely, and his wife Elwende; Thranduil — everyone knows Thranduil; I’m not sure if you ever met Mablung of Doriath?” 

“Once, at the Mereth Aderthad, and then…” Fingon trailed off. Mablung and Beleg had come to the Battle that was now called the Nirnaeth Arnoediad — his last battle. 

“Don’t worry”, Urundil said, interpreting his sudden silence wrong. “You’ll have input beforehand and we won’t do anything you don’t want. But it might be part of the play to act like we would. Maybe a bit of roleplaying… I’d have to talk this over with the others, but you being so new to this could be part of the scene. An… initiation. Us trying out, if you are really serious about this, if you fit our requirements.” 

“That sounds… enticing.” A shudder ran down Fingon’s spine, settling somewhere deep in his abdomen. “I’ll think about it.” 

Urundil grinned and kissed his cheek. “Great. Don’t rush yourself. I’ll give you my address later.”

Fingon knelt on the floor — shackles linked to chains around his wrists and ankles, a collar around his neck. Letters had been exchanged, negotiations conducted and now he was here with six other people who would use him as their entertainment for the evening. ‘Testing’ him to see if he was fit to join their circle. The links of the chains clinked when an excited shudder ran through his body. 

“Can you believe it, Mablung?”, Thranduil said, tugging sharply at one of his braids. “He really wears gold in his hair. These Noldor are unbelievable.” 

Mablung chuckled, sliding his palm down the length of Fingon’s back. “But it looks good on him, don’t you think? Such a pretty boy.” 

Fingon squeaked when he pinched his backside. 

“And a nice voice”, Penlod said and cupped his chin, forcing his head up. (Prim, little Penlod! Fingon had been slightly shocked when he heard he’d be one of the participants.) “Let’s hear more of that. Thranduil, if you please?” 

“Make the noldorin prince scream? With pleasure.” 

Thranduil slid something smooth and flexible — a belt maybe? — over his ass. Fingon moaned when it met his skin, making it sting sharply. Penlod slid his thumb over his lower lip and pushed it in when another slap drew another moan from him. 

“Wonder how his moans would feel on you?” Ingwion had come up behind Penlod and draped an arm around him, whispering into his ear but loudly enough for Fingon to hear him. 

“I’d of course let you go first, Prince”, Penlod said. 

Ingwion chuckled. “If you give every royal precedence, you’ll have to wait a while. But no. I like to watch, give suggestions, if it pleases.” 

Fingon watched as he slid his hand into Penlod’s trousers. Thranduil had stopped the beating for their conversation, sliding the strap enticingly up and down Fingon’s back. 

“Hmm, it pleases”, Penlod answered, allowing Ingwion to open his flies and letting go of Fingon to undress. He lifted the chain that led to Fingon’s collar and led him to one of the armchairs in the room, sitting down with spread legs. “Come here, plaything.” 

Fingon had asked them to call him that. He’d liked it the first time and now it sent an excited shiver down his spine. Penlod was already wet, Fingon tasted him on his tongue as he licked up his folds. He heard steps when Thranduil came up behind him. 

“I wonder how much the princeling can take”, he mused before he struck out again. 

Fingon closed his eyes. He did not have much skill in this, but he tried to slip into the mindframe of someone who wanted to do well and to please. Penlod’s hand slid into his braids, pulling him nearer. 

“Good boy”, he whispered and Fingon swirled his tongue around his clit, moaning as another slap met his backside. His skin was starting to burn and he let the feeling wash over him, let his brain be filled by it. 

“You look so good”, Elwende said close to his ear. “So pretty on your knees.” Her nails scratched gently down his back, leaving goose-bumps in their wake and Penlod gripped his braids tighter when Fingon moaned again. “You are well on your way to commend yourself, plaything.” 

Fingon shuddered, pleasure sliding down his back and up his thighs to converge between his legs. He moved deeper, pushing his tongue inside Penlod, his scent was all around him and going to his head. When Penlod made a small sound in the back of his throat and came shuddering, his thighs holding Fingon’s head between his legs, Fingon felt a rush of pride. He’d done this, he’d made him feel that good. He moaned loudly, when Elwende’s nails moved lower to his tender, beaten backside. A finger slid between his cheeks, rubbing his hole. Fingon shivered, not sure if he wanted her to breach him or not, but before he could have decided, her hand had slid deeper to cup his balls. She squeezed gently, drawing another moan from him and making his hips buck. 

“He’s wonderfully responsive”, she said. 

“Let’s see…”, Mablung said and Fingon jumped when the hard part of a feather dragged up his bare sole. “Yes, ticklish”, Mablung laughed. 

A tuck on the chain around his neck made Fingon rise to a more upright position, his arm brushed Elwende’s breast. She gripped his ass harder, kneading his buttock and sending pleasant pain through his body. 

“Look, the plaything is enjoying himself”, Mablung said, looking down at him and his very noticeable erection. 

Fingon blushed, feeling slightly guilty. Hadn’t it always been a way he defined himself that he didn’t enjoy sex? Mablung must have seen something in his eyes, because his next words were said much more gently. “And that’s how we want it, plaything. Wouldn’t be any fun otherwise. And you want us to have fun, don’t you?” The feather tickled Fingon’s chest, his nipples. 

“Yes”, Fingon whispered, leaning into the touch. “Yes, my lord.” 

“Very good, plaything.” 

He pulled him to his feet and led him to the bed. Fingon let himself be tied down on his back — he squirmed a little, when his beaten skin objected — a blindfold was tied over his eyes and the world went black. But there was still sound and taste (Penlod was still on his tongue) and touch left to him. He sucked in a shuddering breath, his toes curling, when Mablung slowly dragged the tip of the feather up the inside of his thigh. He squirmed, the feather coming close to his cock but never quite touching it. A whine escaped his throat, he craved a touch. The mattress dipped beside him. 

“You are doing so well for us”, Elwende crooned, laying her palm on his chest. “Such a good plaything.” 

Fingon moaned when she started to pinch and twirl his nipples, Mablung’s feather still maddeningly caressing his skin further down. 

“You make such pretty sounds.” 

Her breath came quicker and Fingon could feel her move beside him. He thought he heard a second person breathing and wondered, if Ingwion had joined her, was touching her. The mental image his brain provided made a fresh wave of pleasure rush through his body. 

“You wish to be touched, don’t you?”, Elwende gasped, her fingers trembling on his skin. 

“Yes!”, Fingon moaned. “Please!” 

“Do it”, he heard Ingwion say. “Touch his cock. I want to see you make him come.” 

Fingon arched into her hand as much as his ties would allow when she wrapped it around his arousal, but firm hands pushed his hips down.

 “We give you what we want you to have, plaything”, Mablung rumbled. “At our pace. You take nothing.” 

Fingon whimpered. Elwende’s touch was firm but slow, building his pleasure in a way he’d never thought possible. He jerked under Mablung’s unrelenting hands. He was blind and bound and helpless — at their mercy — and enjoying every moment of it. He heard Elwende moan and felt her motions becoming erratic as she came. Someone else — he did not know who — linked his fingers with Elwende’s, keeping her hand on his cock steady. 

“Please!”, Fingon moaned again. 

“What is it, you want, plaything?”, Thranduil whispered into his ear, his fingertip traced Fingon’s lips. “You’ll have to be more specific for us to grant your wish.” 

“Please!” Fingon shivered at the feeling of Thranduil’s finger caressing his lips. “Let me come, Your Majesty, please!” 

Thranduil chuckled. “He’s very polite, even when he’s mad with want. Let us fulfil his wish.” 

The hands on his aching cock sped up and Fingon came quickly, pleasure rushing through his body, stars exploding in the darkness of the blindfold.

He slumped back into the mattress, gasping for breath, heart hammering in his chest. He was covered in sweat… and other things. A tongue licked over his belly, lapping up his seed. 

“Hmm, he tastes nice”, Urundil purred. “You look awfully hot, plaything. Let’s cool you down a little.” 

Something clinked and Fingon gave an undignified squeak — as if anything about this situation were dignified, he thought — when something cold and wet slid up his thigh. Urundil chuckled and continued to move the ice over his flushed skin. 

“Let’s turn him around”, Ingwion said. “I’m sure our plaything will enjoy this on his sore ass.” 

His shackles were opened and Fingon was rolled over by many hands — some of them touching and groping him in ways that were not entirely necessary for moving him. They weren’t done with him yet. Fingon shivered with reawakening anticipation. He’d almost forgotten about the pain pulsing through his buttocks, but now it was brought back to his mind in full force. He moaned when the ice touched his burning skin, wonderfully cooling. 

“Thought so”, Ingwion said with a grin that Fingon could clearly hear even if he didn’t see it. 

Someone started to stroke his hair and he relaxed into the soothing touches on both ends of his body. 

“Don’t fall asleep, yet”, Urundil teased. 

“No, my lord”, Fingon answered, although it was getting increasingly hard to stay awake, and the enforced darkness of the blindfold didn’t make it easier. 

“I think we need to help him with that”, Thranduil said. 

The mattress moved as people rearranged themselves around him. 

“Let’s keep you entertained, plaything”, Thranduil said, rubbing his entrance with a slick finger before pushing it slowly in. 

Just when Fingon’s mind — tired, but apparently not too tired to complain — started to get bored again about the lack of excitement, Mablung started to talk. 

“You know, plaything, he enjoys this so much more because you are a Noldo. He loves to make your kind kneel and beg and scream and make you his. Now, you said you do not wish to be fucked — and we honour that — but there are other ways to fill your hole.” 

Fingon moaned when Thranduil scissored his fingers. He was preparing him well — for something more than his fingers. 

“Now, he’s holding back, of course, because there are more people to consider today — and also because you are new. But if it were just him you had to serve, he’d thoroughly humiliate you. He’d make you kiss his feet and beg for a beating.” 

Fingon shivered, his cock twitching. He resisted the urge to rub himself against the mattress. 

“Does that idea excite you?”, Mablung asked, dragging his nails over the skin at his nape. 

“Yes, my lord”, Fingon answered breathlessly. 

He might be more apprehensive about it later, but right now — his mind fogging with pleasure — it sounded thrilling. 

“He might invite you to his palace, if you ask him nicely”, Mablung continued, while Thranduil slipped out his fingers and slowly pushed something hard and smooth and cock-shaped into him. The chains clinked as Fingon spread his legs wider. “This room is nothing against his own play room. I might be there, too, if it suits you both, and watch — or provide… encouragement to you.” 

Fingon shuddered at the thought of Mablung — who was large and muscular — grip him by the neck and force him to his knees in front of the King of the Woodland Realm who despised the Noldor… A click and a hum and the thing inside him started to vibrate. Fingon jerked at the intense pleasure coursing through his body. His cock was throbbing. 

“One thing the Noldor have for them”, Thranduil said, sliding his hand down his thigh with gentle pressure. “They are inventive.” 

All hands vanished from his body. Fingon felt movement. 

“We’ll leave you to enjoy this for a moment, plathing”, Urundil said, pressing a kiss to his backside before sliding off the bed. 

Fingon tried to rub his cock against the mattress, but his bonds wouldn’t let him, his tensing muscles only made the vibrations stimulate him so much more. He moaned and gasped and whimpered. What he must look like to them! He could hear heavy breathing, flesh on flesh — they were pleasuring each other or themselves. If only someone would come to him, run his nails over his aching backside; or give him another beating — the thought of that doubled stimulation sent another bolt of intense pleasure through his body —; or just flip him around and fist his cock… Fingon yelped when something thin and hard connected with his backside. 

“I hear you, plaything”, Urundil said. “You are thinking very loudly. But you’ve been very good for us and I feel like indulging you.” 

Another blow. Searing pain. His cock aching, leaking. 

“It’s a cane, by the way”, Urundil offered as he set his ass aflame with slow, measured strokes. Fingon could only moan, speech having left him. He didn’t know how often the cane had kissed his skin, when he heard Penlod say: “Nice work, Urundil!” 

He did not register Urundil’s answer, because Penlod’s fingertips, grazing the fresh welts finally sent him over the edge for the second time this night. He whimpered, the vibrations almost painful now in his over-sensitive state. Someone stopped it and pulled it out while someone else relieved him of the blindfold. 

“You alright?” Elwende asked. 

“Yes”, Fingon mumbled, exhaustion coming over him with the force of a landslide. “I feel fantastic.” 

She chuckled and kissed his cheek. He lay there motionless with drooping lids while the shackles and collar were taken off. He was gently moved around and cleaned, a cool salve spread over his buttocks. 

He must have nodded off at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, he was alone with Urundil who offered him a glass of water. 

“Thank you.” Fingon felt parched and gulped the water down. Urundil filled the glass again and Fingon drank slower this time. “The others left?”, he asked. 

“Yes, after you fell asleep, we decided to call it a night. I stayed behind, because we leave no one alone after a night like this and I stay in Mahtan’s house with a friend anyway.” 

Fingon blushed. “I’m sorry to be a bother”, he mumbled. 

“You’re not!”, Urundil said firmly. “We care for each other. We make certain, everyone comes out of a session unharmed. How do you feel?” 

“Great”, Fingon said with a grin. “Sore”, he added after sitting up without thinking and putting weight on his bruised buttocks. He was glad that a guest-room was waiting for him at the house, thanks to Maedhros. “But very pleased.” 

“Good. The soreness should be gone by tomorrow, even if it doesn’t feel like that right now. The others want me to tell you, that they enjoyed the evening immensely. And I did, too.” 

Fingon put his empty glass down. “I’m glad I found this. Normal sex still doesn’t sound very appealing to me, but this… I might come back, occasionally, when I’m in the mood.” 

Urundil smiled. “I’m happy for you. It’s sometimes hard to be… different. It is good to not feel so alone.” 

“It is. And thank you.” Fingon yawned. “I need to get to my bed for the night and don’t want to keep you awake any longer, either. Let’s go?” 

“If you are ready?” Urundil held out his robes for him when he stood up gingerly and Fingon slipped into them, relieved that he’d had the good sense not to wear tunic and pants. 

“Good night”, he said when they stepped outside into the courtyard. 

“Good night.” 

Urundil went towards the wing where Mahtan’s staff lived while Fingon slipped quietly through the door of the main house and tiptoed up the stairs to his room, not wanting to wake anyone. He let his robes slip off his shoulders and pool on the floor and climbed into bed, smiling as he ran his hand over the welts on his ass, the skin hot under his palm. He did not think he’d need this very often, but it felt good to have a way to relieve the tension that sometimes coiled in his body — something he’d never been able to get rid of by having normal sex. To think he had to thank, in a way, his father for that insight. He giggled into his pillow.