Master and Slave

Galdor lay face down on the floor in the room he always came to when his Master commanded. The room was utilitarian with very little that might be really called furniture. A small round wooden stool, a high, straight-backed chair, a large free-standing chest, a cot; as for the rest, it was a baffling array of hooks and pulleys and strange beds made of nothing more than silk over wooden frames, short wooden and metal stands that looked like they might hold armor or saddles, save they were set with oddly small rings and padded. There were rings in the floors as well as the walls.

The Haven advisor was attached to a series of four anchors embedded deep in the floor. Each ankle and wrist was securely tied so that he lay spread eagle, a long thin spider stretched out to its fullest. He was naked and his long hair was piled into a tight braid that sharply pulled his scalp. He had something in his mouth, something round and attached to leather thongs tied to the back of his head, forcing his perfect bow shaped mouth wide. His cock, lying between his thighs, was bound in silk cord to his cherry pink scrotum. The muscles of his guardian ring were stretched nearly smooth by a thick leather phallus.

Elrond leaned against the wall with his arms folded over his bare chest. Galdor, the perfect pet; the well-heeled slave. The one who was always obedient, pliant. He’d had other slaves over the years, ones more beautiful, ones more skillful. But never had any drawn him as Galdor did. One day, he knew he’d have to return his favorite pet to the Havens, to the sanctuary of Cirdan the Shipwright, but he found excuses to keep the dark haired slave. And, as far as he knew, the slave had never minded.

Pushing himself from the wall, he went to Galdor and bent down to unlace the leather thongs holding him to the floor. They were not tight. Elrond had no desire to truly hurt his little pet. Only to keep him still. When he was free, Galdor did not move and this pleased Elrond. He stroked the dark hair affectionately to demonstrate his approval.

“Come, my pet,” he said in a cool, droll voice.
Galdor rose cumbersomely on all fours and trailed after his Master. Every move of his legs forced the object buried in his body to brush over his inner nub and fire raced through his groin. He had no fear of embarrassing himself, however, for the silk cord assured that he would remain painfully hard and unable to spend his seed, no matter what.

Elrond walked over to one of the low stands and unlaced his breeches, allowing them to slip from his hips just enough to expose his own stiff cock. “Come,” he crooked his finger at Galdor and the elf obeyed, crawling closer until his nose nearly pressed against Elrond’s crotch. The dark eyes were dilated and nearly black and Elrond knew that if it weren’t for the gag, the dainty elf would be moaning loudly. “Up,” he commanded and patted the leather padding.

Instantly, Galdor climbed up on the stand so that his stomach rested on the padding and his arms and legs dangled over either side. His feet just touched the floor. He felt his Master move around him and waited expectantly, his body quivering with anticipation.

Elrond retrieved another bench, this one also padded, and brought it close enough for Galdor to place his hands on it. When Galdor did so, Elrond secured his hands to the bench. He turned to the free-standing chest and withdrew a set of reins especially fitted with a leather bit. He removed Galdor’s gag and slipped the bit between the straight, white teeth and looped the reins over Galdor’s shoulders. He took up a riding crop before moving in behind his pet.

Every muscle in Galdor’s body strained to breaking point. He needed no instructions and no explanations. The bit, the crop, his position. He’d never experienced all three at once, but he could guess what was coming. He felt his inner muscles tighten expectantly. The first touch of the riding crop on his skin made him jerk and squeezed his eyes closed and forced his breathing to steady. The second one had less of a reaction and he relaxed into the pain as the blows grew more rapid, allowed it to roll over him, taking the punishment as his Master chose.

The elf lord moved his arm lazily. Each whistle and slash of the crop was exaggerated by the flick of his wrist. The crop never landed nearly as hard as it sounded. The marks left in its wake were red and angry, but shallow and easily soothed. Soon white buttocks and thighs were scored with superficial red marks. Calves strained as Galdor struggled to remain still. At last, Elrond was satisfied with his handiwork and he laid aside the crop.

Stepping between Galdor’s thighs, he removed the phallus and watched as the opening slowly relaxed. It fascinated him to watch how the muscles contracted with such slowness after being invaded so harshly and with such resistance. Just as the muscles were closing, he thrust his hips forward and inserted his own heavy, weeping cock. Leaning forward, he took up the reins and pulled ever so slightly. He thrust deeply, penetrating Galdor to the hilt. “Eya!” he ordered as he tugged harshly on the reins.

Galdor braced his hands on the bench before him and thrust back on his toes. The angle insured that he was penetrated to his core and he whimpered softly against the bit in his mouth. His Master’s hard hand came down on his backside, encouraging him to move faster. Struggling to maintain his balance, he found a quick thrusting rhythm that set both benches to rocking sharply.

Elrond leaned back just enough to put pressure on the reins gripped firmly in his left hand. The other he used to sporadically slap the red-glowing mounds of Galdor’s cheeks. His cock remained buried in the elf’s narrow confines and he could feel every ripple of Galdor’s inner muscles as his pretty slave struggled to oblige.

“Faster, pony,” Elrond ordered as he placed more and more slaps against Galdor’s thighs and bottom.

Galdor’s feet ached from being on his toes and his shoulders hurt from the strain from his own weight, yet it never occurred to him to stop or beg for a moment’s rest as his breath whistled between his teeth and he swallowed hard against the bit. His restrained cock slapped loudly against the leather padding. His Master’s heavy cock inside him spurred him as much as the punishing slaps.

Elrond began thrusting against Galdor, enjoying the brisk ‘ride’ his slave was giving him. He stared down, watching as his cock appeared and disappeared, sliding quickly in and out of the elf’s body. He could feel Galdor’s bound cock brush against the tops of his thighs. Galdor’s panting and soft groans made Elrond want to take up the crop again, but he refrained. In his excitement, he feared he’d become too boisterous and do actual harm, so he contented himself with the palm of his hand on smooth flesh. Several more minutes went by and Elrond felt his climax growing nearer. Galdor’s tunnel squeezed his cock. Without the silk cord, his pet would have spilled himself long before the ride was over.

Reaching between their bodies, he easily untied the slipknot and released Galdor’s cock and tightly drawn sac. He felt as though he were now riding one of the Mearas as the action seemed to spur Galdor to new desperation. The shoulders bunched and the back muscles knotted with strain as Galdor repeatedly slammed himself onto Elrond’s cock. His dark head lowered, forcing the bit tighter in his mouth, but he seemed not to care and Elrond released some of the tension before his advisor injured himself. He raised his hand and brought his palm down on the smooth mounds once more, leaving behind an ugly red mark that out shown all the others.

It was as though Galdor had been given silent permission and the elf lost all sense of control. His passage tightened involuntarily as his spine arched and his long graceful neck strained at the reins. Thick, creamy seed splattered the leather padding and his thighs. His head was drawn painfully back as his Master arched into his orgasm, thrusting as deep as possible to spill his own seed and within moments, Galdor could feel it dripping from him, sliding warmly down his inner thighs. His head drooped, although he tried to keep his back and shoulders straight.
Elrond tossed the reins over his pet’s head and stepped back. The elf’s lower body was marked with red wheals and sweat dripped from his flanks. His tiny puckered opening was swollen from the harsh use. Hitching up his breeches, Elrond fastened them as he went to a flagon and poured a shallow dish of water that he took back and set before Galdor and removed the bit. The advisor instantly lowered his head and drank, unmindful of the indignity of lapping at the cool liquid like an animal.

Elrond found a soft rag and began wiping down his beloved pet. “You're such a good pony,” he crooned as he gently wiped away sweat and pearly seed. “You need a good rub-down, I think.”

He produced soothing salves and worked them into Galdor’s skin, paying special attention to the red lashes and the swollen opening. He felt Galdor relaxing and saw how the dark eyes grew drowsy. At last satisfied with his ministrations, he snapped a collared leash around his pet’s neck. “Come, pet,” he said as he tugged on the leash and led Galdor from the chamber.