Log in

No account? Create an account
Ties to Yesterday
FIC : Never Wanted This, 5 (A/D A/OC) 
7th-Nov-2006 03:11 pm
Vig Dangerous
Name : Never Wanted This (Chapter 5)

Rating : R-NC17

Disclaimer : I own nothing except for some of the exceptionally retarded characters (ie : Daged and co.) Everything you recognize or think you recognize probably belongs to Tolkien. This story was written purely for enjoyment.

Summary : Captured by a cruel man determined to break him, Aragorn learns that in a world where he has nothing to lose but life itself, hope is not easily found.

Warnings : Slash, rape, torture, ect.

Additional Notes : This story is AU, it does not take place in Tolkein’s ME. In terms of timelines, Aragorn is approximately 20 years old (in the movies he was 87). Also, I've messed around with the timelines, so certain characters ages don't match up (Denethor).

Previous Chapters

Chapter 5

A well placed kick to his ribs served to effectively drag Aragorn back into consciousness and he moaned quietly at the pain, peering through bleary eyes to see the figure standing over him. His vision reeled and he raised one hand, rubbing his eyes.

‘Get up,’ Daged ordered. ‘The healer will be here momentarily.’

Aragorn’s confused mind managed to successfully interpret the order, and he raised his aching body onto trembling arms. The pain flared in his back at the motion, drawing a quiet cry from the ranger’s lips, and he paused, gritting his teeth. Sickness welled in the pit of his stomach he closed his eyes, fighting against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

He didn’t, however, hesitate for too long, mindful of his master’s command. With obvious difficulty, the beaten youth forced his broken body to stand on shaky legs. Daged stepped back, watching Aragorn struggle without offering aid even when the ranger swayed dangerously, reaching blindly outwards for something to balance him. He failed to find anything within his grasp and staggered, falling over his own feet. With an unrepressed sound of disgust, the Gondorian pulled one of the youth’s arms over his shoulders, dragging Aragorn back to his feet and guiding the stumbling ranger over to the wall.

Aragorn moaned quietly, the pain and sickness radiating throughout his body making him lightheaded and uncoordinated. He stretched one hand out before him, bracing his body when he felt the cold stone beneath his palm. With a sigh of relief, the youth rested his forearms against the wall and dropped his head onto them, standing bent over with his legs slightly spread.

The ranger had received enough serious beating to warrant frequent visits from the healers, and Daged had made it clear numerous times how the youth was to display himself on such occasions to allow the healer easy access to his wounds. Though Aragorn felt humiliated at presenting his naked, beaten body in such a fashion, the consequences of disobeying his master were far more hurtful then the shame he suffered

Aragorn waited for the healer to arrive in pained silence, biting his lower lip to keep from weeping at the hurt that assailed his body. Fire laced through his back, and the agony that dominated his body was accompanied by the soreness from spending the night on the stone floor and the inevitable sickness from consuming too much alcohol.

Daged moved behind his slave, running his eyes appreciatively over the damage he’d inflicted the day prior. It was one of the worst beating’s he’d ever imposed upon Aragorn, and though he knew he should feel guilty for causing so much pain, the only emotion he felt was a cruel sense of enjoyment and the undisguised desire to hurt the ranger further. He was aware, however, that Aragorn’s body could only sustain so much abuse before it quit on him, and knew he was getting precariously close to pushing it past its limits.

Aragorn flinched as Daged ran his callused hands down the ranger’s sides, his body trying to draw away from his master’s unwelcome touch before the youth schooled himself back to impassiveness. Daged chuckled quietly to himself and slipped his hands between Aragorn’s parted thighs to stroke the soft skin before moving his attention to the ranger’s bruised backside. His fingers slipped between the crease, playing over the youth’s flesh.

‘Please,’ Aragorn whispered, his voice broken in defeat. ‘Don’t.’ His body trembled in horror, and Daged paused in his ministrations.

‘I didn’t hear you, whore.’

‘Please,’ Aragorn begged shamelessly, his voice rising from a whisper in hopes of placating his master with his suppliant behavior. ‘I can’t do this again, not so soon.’

‘You don’t have a choice,’ Daged snarled, pushing two dry fingers past the barrier of Aragorn’s body. The young ranger moaned through clenched teeth and Daged twisted the digits roughly inside his body. ‘What do you think the healer will say when he comes to tend to you and finds my fresh seed staining your thighs?’

Aragorn simply shook his head. ‘Please,’ he whispered helplessly. ‘Please, no.’

To Aragorn’s surprise, Daged’s fingers paused and then withdrew entirely. The Gondorian moved beside the ranger and grabbed a handful of the youth’s tangled hair, forcing his head up and their eyes to meet. Aragorn watched him fearfully out of teary, pain glazed eyes.

The door beside them opened then and the healer entered. Daged moved away from the wall as he approached, and Aragorn wrenched his gaze away from Daged, trembling from head to toe. The healer rummaged through the bag he was carrying and Aragorn’s body jerked in pain when the healer’s hands touched his back, rubbing healing salve into the youth’s many lacerations. Aragorn hissed through clenched teeth as ribbons of pain shot through his back, causing a red haze to spread across his vision. He moaned, dropping his head back to his arms, and bit his tongue to stop more shameful sounds from passing his lips.

After cleaning and dressing the lacerations, the healer wrapped them as best he could, using long white bandages that circled Aragorn’s ribcage. Once he was finished with the youth’s back, his attention dropped lower, to the ranger’s backside.

Again, Aragorn had the unpleasant sensation of fingers probing at him, this time coated with healing salve. The ranger bit his lip as two fingers pushed their way into his body, aggravating the torn flesh. He moaned quietly, forcing his body to relax and remain still as the healer coated him with more salve.

At last the healer moved away and told Daged that he’d done all he could for Aragorn. The ranger, dizzy with pain, nearly cried out when his master grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and twisted him around, pushing him to his knees before the healer.

‘You know what to do,’ he growled.

Aragorn did. Daged always paid off the healer’s visits by granting them the use of Aragorn’s mouth for their pleasure after they had tended to his body and Aragorn stoically accepted what he could only interpret as more punishment without visible signs of complaint, though to be offered in such a lurid fashion was a severe blow. He undid the ties on the healer’s drawstrings with shaking hands, forcing the leggings past the man’s hips. He closed his eyes and refused to look at the healer’s face, for he’d learned from previous experience that looking in their eyes only gave the figures in his nightmares faces.

The healer held the trembling ranger still with one hand in his hair and freed his arousal with the other, nudging the blunt head against Aragorn’s lips. Aragorn opened his mouth obediently and the healer dropped both hands onto the ranger’s head, holding him stationary while he thrust into the youth’s mouth. Aragorn remained motionless, allowing the man to buck his hips and force his length down the ranger’s throat, heedless of the hot tears that leaked from beneath the youth’s lowered lashes. The Gondorian gripped his hair tightly, pulling roughly in his mounting excitement, and tipped Aragorn’s head back to allow him a better angle to ravage the youth’s mouth.

His throat burned and breathing was difficult. Aragorn accepted the healer’s brutal handling without complaint, gasping for air whenever he was allowed. He worked his lips and tongue as best he could, making quick work of the healer and bringing the man to completion as quickly as possible.

Aragorn nearly gagged when the healer tugged his hair forcibly, forcing his flesh into Aragorn’s mouth as he came in hot waves down the ranger’s throat with a loud moan. His body jerked in pleasure, and the youth stifled a cry as the man’s seed spilled down his throat, hot flesh pulsing between his lips.

After a moment, the man withdrew his erection from the ranger’s swollen lips, his hands releasing his fistfuls of tangled hair and caressing Aragorn’s face tenderly.

Aragorn remained on his knees, he shoulders bowed and his head downcast as the healer tugged his leggings back up over his hips, thanked Daged, and then departed. He was crying again, so full of pain and misery it was hard to distinguish exactly what had set him off this time.

Daged knelt beside him, turning the ranger’s face upwards with one hand beneath his chin. Aragorn wept bitterly, unable to hide his shame from his cruel master. Daged smiled maliciously and captured the tears on the forefinger of his free hand, raising the digit to his lips as though savoring the taste.

‘A delicacy I’ll never grow tired of,’ he murmured, pushing Aragorn backwards onto the floor and grinding his hips against the youth’s body, purring in pleasure. He pressed his lips against Aragorn’s and reached one hand between their bodies to touch the youth as Aragorn eagerly embraced the state of oblivion that accompanied the pleasure Daged supplied.


When Daged had promised to have Aragorn for dessert, the youth considered it to be a metaphorical remark. He’d never expected to be laid back against his master’s work desk, wrists bound above his head and ankles secured to the table legs with honey drizzled in patterns across his naked upper body. To make matters even worse, Daged had stimulated Aragorn until he was begged for release, and then bound the youth’s straining erection with leather ties to insure he remained in a state of painful arousal. Trapped as he was on his back with his hips hanging off the edge of the desk, his condition was impossible to ignore.

To his utter humiliation, it wasn’t Daged alone that witnessed this new form of degradation. His master had called a late night counsel with some of his commanders, and Aragorn had been helpless to protest as a platter of succulent fruit was placed beside his body as an open invitation to any of the men present. Tamarul, of course, had seated himself nearest to the ranger, his lusty eyes drinking in the sensual display. It amused him to no end to see Aragorn flaunted in such a fashion, and he took great pleasure in eliciting what responses he could from the vulnerable youth.

Daged’s second in command took one of the apple slices from the platter and ran it through the honey that pooled in Aragorn’s navel. The ranger shivered at the sensation, clenching his hands into fists in their bonds, and Tamarul ran the piece of fruit up the ranger’s stomach, purposefully swiping it across the bound youth’s nipple. His dark eyes watched the spectacle with growing arousal, circling the peaked flesh until a quiet moan of frustrated desire passed Aragorn’s lips.

To Aragorn’s extreme relief, Daged had allowed his young slave a few days to recuperate before forcing him back into his hated position as a sex slave with renewed vigor. The ranger had been able to rest for a couple of days, his body trapped in a deep healing sleep. When he’d awoken, the worst of his hurts had healed and he was physically able to continue in the nightmare that had become his life.

Daged approached, smiling in pleasure as his eyes swept unrestrained along Aragorn’s torso. The youth wet his dry lips with his tongue, watching his master in growing frustration as Daged grazed one hand deliberately over the ranger’s clothed groin before moving towards the platter of fruit. He selected a slice of melon and dipped it into the honey at Aragorn’s collarbone, then sucked the sweetness away from the fruit before offering it to his slave. The youth, having been deprived of food for the past day, accepted the fruit without hesitation, his tongue curling sinuously around Daged’s fingers. Daged smiled, running the pad of his thumb along Aragorn’s cheekbone.

‘My gratitude for the treat,’ Tamarul said, turning to face his commander. Aragorn closed his eyes, pressing his face against the wood of the table on which he was bound.

‘You’d be wise to enjoy it while you can, for I’m not often willing to share my toy.’ Daged replied, his soft words reaching Aragorn’s ears. He flinched as another slice of fruit brushed against his body, unaware of whom it was tormenting him this time, and sucked his lower lip between his teeth as thrills of pleasure raced through his body. A finger circled one of his nipples slowly, teasing him mercilessly.

A voice he was unable to recognize spoke, addressing his master, but Aragorn was unable to focus upon the words as another hand dropped to his groin, rubbing the bulge between his legs. He moaned unashamedly, tugging helplessly against the bonds that kept his wrists above his head, and arched his back as much as the ties would allow, panting in pleasure.

‘Stop teasing him,’ Daged said, and the hand withdrew. A breathy chuckle reached Aragorn’s ears and he bit his lip until he tasted blood on his tongue.

‘You make frequent remarks about his disobedience, but he doesn’t appear rebellious in the least to me.’ The third man said, tracing a line from Aragorn’s navel to his throat with one finger.

‘It’s because he’s been drugged,’ his master replied, a hint of smugness in his voice.

‘Ah.’ The three men surrounding him laughed, three sets of hands reaching out to caress his body, and Aragorn writhed and moaned unashamedly, arching his back in pleasure. A pair of lips brushed against his own and the ranger could tell from the familiar taste that they belonged to Daged, and Tamarul took advantage of his commander’s distraction to slip his hand below the waistband of Aragorn’s leggings.

Daged swallowed the gasp that passed from his slaves lips, raising his eyes to glare a warning at his second in command. He withdrew his mouth, placing two of his fingers between the ranger’s lips.

‘So pretty,’ the third man murmured and Aragorn opened his eyes, but was unable to place the man’s face. ‘Does he taste as sweet as he looks?’

‘Of course,’ Daged replied, taking another piece of fruit and slathering it in the honey from Aragorn’s chest. ‘But as pleasing at he may be, we do have matters to discuss, and we cannot spend all night tormenting my slave.’

Aragorn moaned breathily as the men withdrew and met Tamarul’s lusty gaze with eyes dark with need. Tamarul narrowed his eyes, a smile playing across his lips, and leaned away to speak with Daged.

‘Not tonight,’ Daged said, glancing quickly towards Aragorn. ‘I will, however, have the elf sent to your chambers, and you may do with him as you please.’

Soon the rest of the men Daged had summoned had arrived and Aragorn shifted uncomfortably on the desk as talk turned to strengthening the border guard in the south and of sending more men to Osgiliath. Before long the ranger’s attention began to stray, having no interest in such matters.

The honey that had decorated his chest had begun to trickle down his sides, dripping onto the wood on which he was bound. He shifted, trying to ease the cramp in his lower back, and his skin itched where the sticky honey made its way down his ribs. He sighed in frustration as the minutes past, his mind wandering in boredom.

The meeting went far too long for Aragorn’s comfort, the effect of the drug Daged had slipped the unknowing ranger increasing gradually over time. His body ached to be touched and his need to be satisfied grew until the young ranger could think of little else. His breath came in heavy pants, his blood pooling in his groin, and he was nearly to the point of begging for attention when, at long last, Daged called the meeting to a close.

His master waited until everyone had left before approaching Aragorn. The ranger’s eyes shone in desire and in frustration, and he turned his head eagerly to follow Daged as his master moved before him, resting one hand on the youth’s groin. Aragorn moaned gratefully at the contact, bucking his hips upwards into the welcomed touch, and Daged obliged him by slipping the youth’s leggings below his hips and stroking his arousal with a firm hand.

Aragorn could have wept in relief, and very nearly wept when his master withdrew his hand.

‘Please,’ he begged, his voice thick with need. ‘Please, touch me.’

Daged shook his head, a sympathetic smile on his lips. ‘No. I promised Tamarul that I’d send the elf to him, but I think we should enjoy his company first. Don’t you agree?’

Aragorn would have agreed to anything at that point if it meant release. He nodded, his mind hazy with desire, and was rewarded with a passionate kiss.

‘I’ll return at once,’ Daged said as he withdrew. Aragorn groaned in arousal, his back arching as he sought contact, but his master merely smiled and shook his head. He turned away, leaving an extremely aroused and half naked Aragorn alone in his study.


12th-Nov-2006 09:14 pm (UTC)
Damn, damn, damn! *crosses legs again* Too good, just too good. And I am running out of things to say LOL!
12th-Nov-2006 11:49 pm (UTC)
Yes, well, I'm also running out of ways to say 'thank you!' ;)

Not that I mind, of course.
This page was loaded May 25th 2018, 1:10 am GMT.