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Sin and Slavery	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4273 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Author: pippychick
Pairing: Sauron/Maglor
Warnings: AU, M/M Slash, graphic sex, BDSM, D/s, Rape/Non-con, horror, violence, physical handicap – basically, if you can think of it, it’s likely here somewhere. Generally dark, disturbing, and possibly bad for your mental health. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: Middle-Earth is not mine, neither are Sauron or Maglor. They belong to Tolkien. I make no money from this.
Summary: After casting the Silmaril into the sea, Maglor wanders aimlessly along the beach, and to quote Tolkien: “…he never came back among the people of the Elves.” Here might be a reason why.

Author’s Note:

Thanks go to my wonderful reviewers, Chaotic Binky and Logan! I'm so glad that people enjoy my stories, dark and overdramatic as they are *g* Your comments are appreciated more than you know :)

I must apologise for the long wait on an update of this story, but the last time I let Sauron off his lead he terrorised and murdered poor Celebrimbor.

Anyway, here is the next part. It's rather deep and complex, and I only hope I've managed to describe the conflict Maglor faces adequately.

Thank you!

Chapter Four

Occasionally it was like this, so gentle that at first it hadn't awoken him. Slow rocking movements inside him, so evocative of possession. Sauron must feel every shiver and breathless whimper. Pleasure flared with him – real pleasure as opposed to the magic which seemed to be absent for once – and Maglor sighed as he awoke fully in the arms of the dark lord.

The act continued in silence for a while then and Maglor lay with his eyes closed trying to ignore the random bursts of almost painful beauty that his body couldn't help experiencing. It didn't help that they were in the giant bed Sauron favoured, all around him was soft and warm, making him focus on the sensation of Sauron inside him, claiming him.

“I know you are awake,” Sauron whispered, leaning down over him to steal a kiss, inundating his senses with that strange spicy scent. He had grown used to violation, and yet this wasn't the same. Not when it was slow and gentle like this. Maglor opened his eyes as the kiss ended and Sauron drew back from him. The light was mellow too; subtle candlelight as opposed to torches which made everything seem all the more intimate. But when he beheld Sauron – that dangerous sharp smile directed at him – he shivered and the dark lord moaned in appreciation for the way his body tightened in instinctive fear, pushing into him again.

“Share your thoughts with me,” Sauron suggested, and Maglor closed his eyes as he turned his face away in refusal, getting over his first feeling of panic when he saw again whom his captor was. He couldn't help feeling that all of this was for his benefit. That Sauron would not be in this form if it wasn't for the sport of tormenting him, an impression that was reinforced when Sauron stopped and changed the angle slightly, groaning in satisfied lust.

“Why should I?” Maglor said at last, hating Sauron as he let go of a long withheld moan of pleasure. “It will only be the worse for me then.”

He should have known, and he did already know, that Sauron would meet the challenge and more. His loss would be more absolute for his refusal to co-operate – but he was not willing to participate and aid Sauron in his games yet. Not quite.

“Ah, but do you not deserve worse, mûl nín?” Maglor did not reply, and Sauron pressed him for an answer. “Surely you do not mean to imply that this punishment I offer you is misplaced?”

He was right, and Maglor stetched a little in Sauron's grip, aware that he was imprisoned by more than this. It was something in him that kept him here, alive and vital in the face of what would make another fade and escape to Mandos' Halls. He did deserve worse, he knew that, and his guilt came to replace his feelings of hatred for what he was being subjected to.

“I awake, and I –” Maglor stopped and shook his head, managing after everything that had happened so far to be insulted and mortified that Sauron was still taking pleasure from his body, still tenderly taking him as though they were lovers. He moaned again and Sauron chuckled at his reaction. “You already know my thoughts,” he said then in accusation, his voice slightly dulled but not broken. And yet he was aware that broken was the best he could hope for.

“Indeed,” Sauron replied, pausing as if that would be the end of it. Of course, it wasn't. “Put them into words for me,” he suggested. “Describe how it feels to be my plaything.”

“I do not know how long it has been,” Maglor began uncertainly, his heart beating faster at what he was doing. This felt like a confession. It was a strange kind of excitement, somehow frightening and pleasurable at the same time. He didn't know how long he had been Sauron's prisoner. It might have been only a few months, maybe longer than a year. Some time ago he had come to accept his place as Sauron's toy, but he didn't quite welcome it. Not yet.

“Look at me,” Sauron commanded, turning Maglor's head so that their eyes met, and Maglor shivered but he could not look away.

“I remember that I was first sickened and horrified,” he said softly, staring up into Sauron's eyes helplessly. He was aware that Sauron was taking pleasure from his words, and he felt the strangest desire to play to it. “But that I did not fade. I was disappointed.” He relived that realisation as he spoke, remembered the many times waking to find himself still trapped and his sheer misery when he knew that he would remain whatever Sauron did to him.

“And then?” Sauron asked, looking greedy for more, and Maglor moaned as Sauron moved deeply inside him again, making his body jump in awareness of how it was possessed. He was hard – he could feel his hardness rolling around on his lower belly, heavy and wanting. He breathed in and out deliberately a few times as Sauron continued the slow lovemaking, but he didn't close his eyes.

“And then you...” Maglor said, sighing, “gentle...” He looked up at Sauron as if to beg, not wanting to admit to the truth, but unable to resist it. “I... find myself enjoying this at the same time as I hate it, and yet it is what I deserve.”

There was violation, and then there was the way Sauron laughed at this most humiliating confession. At last Maglor closed his eyes, his face burning even as he couldn't help moaning again at the way Sauron moved skilfully within him. This could last for hours, he knew, and quite suddenly despite his words he no longer wanted it.

“Please, hurt me!” he cried out in anguish, unable to bear witness to the pleasure Sauron took in his words that had been so freely given and cost him so much.

“Address me properly, mûl nín,” Sauron said, the amusement still warm and heavy in his tone, “and I may consider giving you a little pain.”

“Herdir, please, hurt me!” At the last moment he opened his eyes again, and he saw the amusement was completely gone now. There was an instant where Maglor was so afraid of what he had begged for that he could not breathe. Had he really asked for the monster to hurt him?

The slow, gentle taking suddenly became a thing of violence and pain, making Maglor cry out and tears come to his eyes. Now Sauron gave him everything, pulling out completely only to plunge deeply inside again. Maglor tried to struggle, but he never had a chance, and he began to cry out in pain, only distantly aware that he clung to Sauron as if to beg for mercy.

At last the brutality calmed into the same slow and deliberate rocking as previously, only this time Maglor had tears on his cheeks and the gentleness was almost a comfort to him.

“Suffering is selfish,” Sauron noted, merciless as ever. “I see your suffering.” And to Maglor it was as though he meant something else.

“You speak lies as if they were truth, and accuse me as if I were not already guilty enough,” Maglor said, his voice stained with pain and tears. He began to tire of the game Sauron was playing, but he couldn't ask for the violence again.

“Do you even know what truth is now?” Sauron asked rhetorically, stilling only to rest within him so that Maglor could not make the slightest movement without feeling Sauron there.. “Speak truth if you can, mûl nín, if you do still know it.”

“I remember my life before the oath.” Maglor replied, his voice laced with a bitterness for Sauron, for himself, and for the jewels themselves as if they had caused his present situation. “I know what truth is.”

As he stared up into Sauron's eyes his heart began to beat faster again, and the confession came before he could stop it, spilling from his lips. “But, I do not know for how long, and I fear that this is forever.” It was his worst fear now, because the guilt that kept him here seemed as deep and endless as the monster that kept him prisoner.

“Ah, but nothing lasts forever. You know that as well as I.” Maglor felt his mouth fall open at hearing something like comfort from Sauron, and though his mind screamed a warning at him, he could not help carrying on with his confession.

“But forever can be so long that it makes no difference. When I think of decades, of centuries...” he said, and swallowed when he saw how Sauron's eyes glittered in sudden hunger at his words. “Millennia...” he whispered faintly. His fear was unformed and yet all the more terrible for that. Years of this would be torture, millennia would be something different – something that would alter him forever even if it ended. He would truly be a slave.

“You have such an imagination!” Sauron said in delight, as though he was watching the pictures that Maglor's mind painted for him. “But I am sure you have no idea what will become of you.” It was such a threatening statement that Maglor whimpered as Sauron continued to speak. “What if it was millennia?”

“What will I become?” he asked in dread, wishing for an earnest answer so that he may prepare for it. And yet he didn't want to hear the truth, for it would steal everything from him. And he knew that he would still not fade, but remain to see it come to pass.

Sauron smirked. “This is the heart of the matter, is it not? And yet, do you not remember my promise? I said that I would take my time with you. Do you doubt my finesse?” As he spoke the last he brought one of Maglor's hand to his lips to kiss it, almost in worship, and Maglor shivered as he realised what it meant. He was property; to be handled and used in whichever way the dark lord wanted.

“It is a nightmare you describe!” Maglor burst out, pulling his hand back although he could not ignore the way Sauron still possessed his body. “I do not want it!”

“So dramatic!” Sauron chastised, that humour back in his voice again. “But worry not. We have a long time – as long as to be forever – and I promise that your fall to me will be so gradual... There will be moments that pass where you do not even realise what I have taken.”

The tender, rocking movements which had stopped began again now, and there was another long silence as Maglor moaned and moved and sighed in his Master's arms but did not escape. The confessions he had given ran through his mind constantly, and he grasped at the truth because Sauron had taunted him with it. He did still know the truth.

“I recognise this one...” he said at last, meaning the moment that had passed, his body trembling as Sauron took him in hand to tease him. How could he yearn for release? And yet he did. He craved to find it in his Master's hand.

“Yes,” Sauron replied eventually, referring to the confession he had taken. “I will not always draw your attention to them. But then your fear and misery is so delicious, mûl nín, even in your selfishness.”

As he listened to himself and his situation described in these terms, Maglor arched up in Sauron's embrace, pushing his hardness into Sauron's hand as he climaxed. His gentle moans became whimpers of distress when Sauron did not stop taking him. Neither did Sauron's hand stop caressing him, so that Maglor began to struggle, as helpless to escape as before.

“You will learn to control yourself, mûl nín. If only to avoid this.”

“I am sorry, Herdir!” he whimpered, desperate for the demands of Sauron's hand to stop, the pain as intense and hard-edged as the pleasure had been.

It did end eventually, when Sauron himself found release inside Maglor's body some time later, and he found himself laid beside the dark lord, still encircled by his arms, head against his chest. It was comfortable and yet Maglor could not relax and forget his fear, so he trembled.

“I think that I will tell you about the beginning,” Sauron said, “so that you may have some sense of anticipation...”

To be continued...

Translations:
mûl nín – my slave
Herdir – Master

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. Please review, or send me email: a.slash.writer@gmail.com
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Sin and Slavery