Initiation by chrissystriped

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Chapter Two

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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.