Boromir's Subjugation
I love you...
"Gondor has no king," Boromir sneered as he sat down. "Gondor needs no king,"
he added contemptuously.
A red haze covered Aragorn's vision as he responded to Boromir's words with
rage. But he fought back his anger, aware that Elrond's council was not the
place to deal with the Man. The hot shaft of fury grew cold as he contemplated
the Steward's son. Clearly the Stewards of Gondor had grown too fond of the rule
of Aragorn's rightful kingdom, for Boromir must be aping the words of his
father. With icy malice he decided that this latest scion of the House of Húrin
needed to be taught his proper place in the world.
When the council was finished and the Fellowship was formed and Aragorn free
for the evening, he sought out his foster brothers. He found Elladan and Elrohir
in their rooms packing for a journey.
"Ada has told us to scout the passes of the Misty Mountains," Elladan explained
to Aragorn's query.
"Are you to leave immediately? I have a little prank to play on someone and I
need your help."
The eyes of the twins sparkled at the thought of some mischief. "We can go
sometime tomorrow. What is the game?" Elrohir asked.
"Boromir of Gondor has offered insult to your father's wisdom. I thought some
gentle instruction in the proper respect for his elders would be in order. If
you could help me subdue him and bring him to my rooms . . ." The Elven twins
grinned and soon agreed to Aragorn's plan.
Later that night, Boromir was again wandering the corridors of Rivendell. The
place and the Elves made him restless. He nodded his head in greeting to a pair
of them with identical faces.
As they passed him, one grabbed his arm and stuffed a cloth into his mouth when
he opened it to question the action. The other Elf drew a sack over his head and
then his arms were roughly tied behind his back. He tried to sink to the ground
and escape, but a cold blade at his throat and a whispered, "Walk," convinced
him to cooperate.
He stumbled along between the Elves, his brain frantically trying to understand
how such betrayal could happen in the House of Elrond. The journey seemed
endless and his head was spinning from disorientation and lack of air. Finally
they entered a room and the door closed behind him. Someone put a sweetish
smelling cloth under the hood and his senses swam and he knew no more.
Boromir drifted back to consciousness feeling cramps in his shoulders and
thighs. He tried to shift around to relieve the pressure, but he discovered that
he was securely tied down with his arms and legs spread. He also realized, with
mounting horror, that he was completely naked. He tried to see, but the cloth
still covered his head and he could not speak for the rag in his mouth.
He tried to find out as much of his surroundings as he could, remembering his
old sergeant's instructions if he was ever captured. He was lying on a soft
surface, a bed, he decided. He could hear the gentle hiss and pop of a fire and
he thought he also heard quiet breathing that was not his own.
The other person chuckled suddenly, right beside him, and Boromir realized that
he had not heard the other move. That frightened him even more. A hand encircled
his ankle and slowly ran up his leg to his crotch.
"Are you awake, pretty?" a drawling voice asked and Boromir recognized it
almost instantly.
He began thrashing his head in protest of the awful knowledge that had entered
his mind. The man began laughing at Boromir's reaction.
"I see that you know my voice, so we will dispense with this," he said, pulling
the hood off Boromir's head.
Boromir blinked several times, trying to clear his vision and focus on the face
leaning over him. The Ranger was grinning at him maniacally, his amusement at
Boromir's plight plain on his face. Boromir tried to growl at him through the
gag, but he found that his throat was dry and tight.
Aragorn sat down beside him on the bed and carded his fingers through the soft
mat of tawny hair on Boromir's chest. "I started this to punish you for you
insolence," he mused. "I was prepared to sacrifice myself to better your
understanding of the world, but now that I look at you more closely . . . I
don't think that it will be a chore at all to tame you."
He trailed his hand down the fine line of hair leading to Boromir's groin. "You
are beautiful, my golden boy. And you are mine and I will teach you so many
things, and you will know that I am your master and your delicious body will
respond to me alone."
Boromir desperately twisted, trying to get away from the stroking hand, pulling
at the bonds on his limbs. He glared at Aragorn, his eyes narrowing.
His efforts resulted in nothing more than another burst of laughter from the
Ranger. "Oh no, pretty. You will not escape me. And your green eyes turn so icy
when you are mad, they just make you all the more irresistible."
"However," Aragorn continued grimly, grabbing a fistful of Boromir's hair in
each hand and twisting. "When I touch you, you will not pull away from me. You
will allow me to touch you wherever I wish, in any way that I wish. You belong
to me."
The hands ruthlessly pulling Boromir's hair grew gentle and fingers massaged
his scalp where previously they had tugged hurtfully. Boromir fought the urge to
push his head against those delightful fingers which were raising shivers along
his scalp.
Aragorn seemed to know just what he was thinking, for the Ranger drawled softly
in Boromir's ear, "You see how good it can be if you let it? If you do as I ask,
then I will give you this. Unfortunately, sometimes I will have to hurt you,
even if you behave. That is part of your lessons. But you will hurt less if you
obey me."
"Now for the next lesson," Aragorn resumed. "I cannot leave that gag in all the
time for you will thirst and I must have you strong enough to take my lessons. I
will remove it, but you must not make a sound. You are never to scream without
my permission."
Aragorn lowered the cloth around Boromir's slowly, his eyes watchful. Boromir
tried to keep his expression neutral and as soon as his mouth was free, loosed a
yell. Immediately Aragorn's fist crashed into his face, breaking his nose and
sending blood streaming down his face. Aragorn roughly shoved the gag back in
place while Boromir was still gasping from the pain.
"You want to do this the hard way," Aragorn said, untying the bonds on
Boromir's left side and bringing those limbs over to the right side and retying
him. He then did the same operation with the right arm and leg, and while
Boromir was still dazed from the blow, he found himself lying on his stomach
still spreadeagled.
His tongue seemed to be made of wood and the blood from his nose was dripping
into his mouth, making him nauseous. He turned his head to the side so he could
breathe, and saw Aragorn pick up a small pot of salve. The Ranger rubbed the
salve over two of his fingers and Boromir's eyes widened as he comprehended what
the other man meant to do to him.
Aragorn looked at him and smiled. "Lie still, pretty. You cannot stop this," he
said smugly. He stroked his free hand slowly down Boromir's muscular back, until
his fingers rested lightly at the top of Boromir's crack. Boromir trembled in
apprehension of what was to come.
Aragorn's hands gently parted his buttocks and the lubricated fingers softly
encircled the hidden opening. The Ranger seemed content to do nothing else and
Boromir's breathing grew harsh as his body began to respond to the caress.
Little sparks of lightening seemed to flow from the invading fingers into
Boromir's groin. The Steward's son moaned behind the gag, incredulous that he
could react under such circumstances.
Taking the moan as a sign, Aragorn inserted the tip of one finger into the
puckered hole. "Are you a virgin, golden boy?" The finger slid in deeper and
Aragorn laughed triumphantly. "So tight, I think you are untouched!"
The sensation of lightening increased and to his shame, Boromir realized that
he had grown hard. The other lubricated finger joined the first and the feeling
of stretching and fullness was incredibly erotic. And then Aragorn did something
that amazed Boromir; he stroked his fingers across a spot deep inside Boromir's
body and the jolt from that contact set Boromir's hips plunging into the
mattress. Aragorn continued caressing it slowly, but rhythmically, and Boromir
was swimming in a haze of desire. He felt an orgasm building up deep within him.
"Not yet, pretty," Aragorn whispered, slowly withdrawing his fingers. Boromir
tried to repress a whimper at the loss of the delicious contact.
Aragorn chuckled. "Next lesson. You may not come without my permission. I can
see that you are close, but you must fight it back," he finished grimly. "If you
do not, you will suffer."
The harsh tone and his throbbing nose convinced Boromir that the Ranger was
serious and his erection melted away, but he was left with the feeling that he
was hanging at the edge of a cliff and though he could not move away, nor he
could not go on over.
Aragorn stood up and quickly removed his clothes and stood in Boromir's line of
sight. They were of equal height, but the Ranger was slimmer and his body was
deeply bronzed and rugged from his long years spent outdoors. His cock was
rampant and silvery drops of moisture leaked from the end. He picked up the pot
of salve and smoothed it slowly over his erection. He smirked at Boromir's
expression as he watched the performance.
"I will take you, my beauty, and claim you as my own," Aragorn declared,
crouching beside the bed. He threaded his fingers through Boromir's hair and
trailed them over his skin. "So golden," he muttered, almost to himself.
The Ranger knelt between Boromir's legs and the Gondorian braced himself.
Aragorn took no time to ease his way in, but took Boromir with one brutal
thrust. Boromir found his muscles abruptly stretched and the pain was intense.
The erotic feeling he had earlier disappeared and he found himself fighting
through a sea of pain. Aragorn was uttering obscenities as he pounded into the
helpless man below him. Boromir clung grimly to his control, trying not to
scream as the brutal punishment continued.
But then Aragorn subtly changed the angle of his penetration and Boromir felt
another shock of lightening dart through him. He hardened against his will,
ashamed that his body reacted to Aragorn in this manner. Aragorn hit the spot
only occasionally, well aware of what he was doing to the other man. Boromir
felt that he was on the edge of something, but he could not quite grasp it.
Finally Aragorn spent himself and flopped onto Boromir's back. "My pretty boy,"
he said, pushing golden hair away from Boromir's face. He withdrew himself and
motioned to Boromir's mouth. "I am going to get rid of that, will you be quiet?"
Boromir nodded; he was frantic to have the cloth out of his mouth. Aragorn
removed the gag, and Boromir took a deep breath, relieved to be able to breathe
freely once again, for his nostrils were still caked with blood. Aragorn offered
him a sip of water to ease his throat.
He drifted again, his unsated desire a mild torment, barely aware that Aragorn
was rearranging him until he was again on his back, his erection poking stiffly
out of his nest of golden hair.
"Oh, my poor Boromir, you are as yet unsatisfied! We must help you." Aragorn's
voice was warm and Boromir blushed as more blood rushed to his groin.
"Now remember your lessons, you must not come until I permit it." With that
statement, Aragorn engulfed Boromir's rigid cock in his mouth and Boromir nearly
came off the bed, held down still by the ropes. Aragorn expertly flicked his
tongue over Boromir's most sensitive spots while his mouth kept up a continuous
suction.
Aragorn paused briefly, "You may speak, if you wish." And he returned to his
eager ministrations. Boromir tried to concentrate on anything but the waves of
unwanted desire surging through his body. He had never felt so out of control as
he forced down his orgasm time and again. His body was in Aragorn's mastery and
he nearly wept at the treachery of it.
Perhaps Aragorn sensed that he was losing it, perhaps from the steady stream of
pleading coming from Boromir's rebellious mouth, for Boromir had not intended to
beg for his release. But Aragorn pulled his lips away from Boromir's shaft and
said, "Come for me, pretty." And Boromir did as he was commanded, spurting his
cream over his belly.
Aragorn released one of Boromir's hands and gave him a wet cloth to clean
himself with. The Ranger then retied the wrist and walked around the room,
extinguishing the lamps and banking the fire.
"Sleep, golden boy," Aragorn whispered, making himself comfortable in the wide
bed. Boromir did not imagine that he would be able to relax under the
circumstances, but exhaustion overwhelmed him and he knew nothing until morning.
In the succeeding days, while Elrond organized the Fellowship, Boromir's life
followed a similar pattern. Aragorn would leave Boromir in his rooms, tied and
naked, while he tended to his own business in Rivendell. He would come back at
the noon meal and give Boromir his one repast of the day, staying long enough to
either beat or caress the Gondorian, depending on his whim. In the evening,
Aragorn would come back for the night and bring Boromir to such depths of
depravity that he had never imagined existed. His body responded with fierce
pleasure to every humiliation inflicted on him, and he could not control it.
For his part, Boromir tried to do everything that Aragorn asked of him, hoping
to avoid a beating or some of the more painful sexual practices of which Aragorn
was fond. Nothing seemed to help, for Aragorn would hit him or kiss him,
seemingly at random.
But Boromir was not the son of Denethor for nothing, and though he knew he was
not as good a strategist as his father or his brother, he began to plan to
escape. Aragorn had long since tied his hands together rather than spread apart.
And he had started leaving Boromir's feet untied, because he preferred to take
Boromir when he was on his hands and knees, rather than when he was prone.
Boromir spent the long hours that he was left alone patiently picking at the
knots that bound his hands to the bed. After many days, he was finally
successful and he spent his time looking around the room for potential weapons.
He found his clothes roughly bundled in a chest, but nothing with which he could
subdue Aragorn. In desperation, he turned to the bed, inspecting the elaborate
carvings. He realized that if he could work the nails out of one of the tree
limbs, he could use it to club the Ranger. It was almost evening, however, so he
hurriedly looped the rope around his hands, giving the appearance that he was
still restrained.
Aragorn came in soon after and took Boromir to the heights of ecstasy, and
never noticed anything amiss with the ropes. He soon fell asleep, and Boromir
slept as well, satisfied that his plan would work and he would regain his
freedom the next day.
The next morning, as soon as Aragorn left, Boromir began to work on the
carving. He picked one that was not used for his bondage and that was on the
other side of the bed from where Aragorn usually slept. He knew that his chance
would not come until the Ranger was asleep for he never fucked Boromir face to
face.
The tree limb was loose, but the job was not done when it came time for
Boromir's meal. So he looped the rope again and spread himself on the bed. He
was quivering with eagerness as Aragorn placed his bowl of gruel under his chin.
Aragorn must have imagined that Boromir's excitement was for him, because he was
very free with his caresses and left Boromir aching and wanting.
Early in the afternoon, the nails came out, but Boromir carefully replaced the
branch so that nothing appeared out of place. He retrieved his clothes from the
press and stuffed them under the bed. The only thing left to do was wait. He was
in a fair state of anticipation and his erection had not died. He glared at his
cock, irked that it would not respect his wishes when it came to Aragorn.
Although, he had to admit, that if they had become involved under different
circumstances, the Ranger was all that he could want in a lover, lean and
strong, forceful and knowledgeable. His eyes could burn like sunstruck ice or
they could radiate warmth like a summer sky. Boromir angrily thrust his thoughts
away from the man's physical beauty, concentrating instead on his apparent
insanity. He heard a whispering voice in his head, but he tried to shake it
away.
The time came at last and Aragorn returned. Boromir surprised both of them with
the depth of his response to Aragorn's demands. Usually Boromir held out from
begging as long as possible, but as soon as the Ranger entered him, he lost all
control, arching and shuddering and pleading for release. Aragorn was delighted,
and allowed Boromir to come when he did. They slid into a boneless heap on the
bed, and Aragorn was soon snoring.
Boromir quickly undid his hands and pulled out the carving which he had
loosened. He hesitated briefly before bringing the club down sharply on
Aragorn's skull. All tension fled from the Ranger's body and his breathing grew
deeper. Boromir stealthily removed the key to the room from Aragorn's belt pouch
and scrambled into his clothes. He unlocked the door quietly and slipped out,
relocking it behind him.
He was in an unfamiliar part of Rivendell and he hoped to use the darkness to
conceal himself from any patrols which Elrond might have about. He started off
in the direction from which he believed he had been brought, so many days
before.
Boromir was standing at an intersection of corridors, puzzled as to which way
to go, when a cold blade appeared at his throat and a voice whispered, "You can
never escape me." And then a cloth with the familiar odor covered his mouth and
nose and he went away for a time.
When Boromir revived, he was once again bound and the gag had been replaced in
his mouth. His hands were tied behind him and his legs were spread painfully
wide. He was not on the bed, but on the floor in front of the fireplace, where
Aragorn was tending the fire, stoking it hotter and hotter. The Ranger laid out
several knives on the hearth and placed a final knife in the fire.
He turned and saw Boromir watching him. Boromir cringed at the icy look in his
cold blue eyes. He knew that whatever the Ranger had planned for him, it was
going to be bad.
"You have broken all of my rules. It is clear to me that I must show you who
owns you for good and all." Aragorn's voice was not angry, but devastatingly
calm. He set the other knives in the fire and thrust the one that was already
there further into the heart of the heat.
Boromir's arms were going numb from their awkward position and his weight that
was resting on them. Finally, Aragorn withdrew the first knife and Boromir saw
that the blade was glowing nearly white hot and he began to sweat. Aragorn set
the blade to the flesh on the inside of his right thigh and quickly traced a
design on his skin. The pain was nearly unbearable and Boromir began screaming
behind his gag, sweat and tears pouring down his face.
"You are mine," Aragorn said when he finished. "Look and see."
Boromir choked back the tears that where still streaming from his eyes and
looked at his thigh. There was the familiar White Tree of Gondor, but above it
where seven stars and a high crown.
"The signs of Elendil," Aragorn said softly, his fingers lightly brushing the
burned marks. "No lord has borne these for years beyond count, but you shall be
my personal standard. A sign that I will regain what has been lost."
He looked then at Boromir's face and gently swiped away the tears. "Now do you
understand to whom you belong?"
At Boromir's nod, Aragorn smiled, "That lesson is well learned then." The smile
faded and his eyes grew chill once again. "There is still the matter of your
punishment." And he turned and worked with the fire until it blazed even hotter
and Boromir was flushed from the heat of it.
Aragorn ran a hand along Boromir's flaccid cock, but he did not seem upset when
it did not rise for him. His hand dipped lower until he was holding one of
Boromir's balls loosely between his fingers. Suddenly, Boromir was more
frightened than he had ever been in his life.
The Ranger grasped a knife from the center of the blaze; it was glowing
white-hot. Moving quickly, he sliced open Boromir's sack, dropped the knife and
grabbed another. He plunged the knife into Boromir's body, shearing through
vessels and tendons, the sizzling blade cauterizing as it went. Boromir howled,
his brain screamed at him to run, but the pain kept him immobile. The agony was
so intense, that the voice of the Ring, which always was there on the edges of
his mind, disappeared altogether. Aragorn soon held one of his testicles in his
hand, holding up the bloody organ in front of Boromir's face. Boromir clung to
consciousness desperately, determined to face whatever Aragorn did to him.
Aragorn tossed the organ into the fire, and soon the sickly smell of burning
flesh filled the room. The Ranger ignored the stench and examined his handiwork.
"No bleeding, very good." He took out a needle and thread and sewed up the rent
in Boromir's skin. Boromir drifted in a haze of pain, trying to keep some
fragment of himself whole by retreating as far as he could into himself.
He was dimly aware that the Ranger had loosened his legs after he bandaged
Boromir's groin. Aragorn pulled him into a sitting position and slapped his face
until Boromir focused on him.
Aragorn's eyes were still icy. "If you ever try something like that again, I
will cut off the other one and eat it while you watch. Do you understand me?"
Boromir nodded dumbly. He had no doubt that the Ranger would do exactly as he
said.
"Good, I would hate to remove both because then you couldn't rise for me. And I
do so love to see that pretty cock hard and wanting me." Aragorn's voice was
lighter, almost teasing.
"Ah, you are so beautiful. I must have you." He helped Boromir lay back down
and roll over to his stomach, with his arms still bound behind him. He stroked
Boromir's back, but the Steward's son did not respond, for pain still throbbed
through him with every beat of his heart.
Aragorn slicked his cock and plunged into Boromir without any preparation. The
hurt was just one more among many and Boromir barely noticed. His body lay limp,
his penis shriveled and his remaining ball drawn up into his body. His mind was
screaming "No!" but he could not summon the energy to fight the violation and
soon the screaming stopped.
Aragorn shuddered and groaned, and howling with passion, emptied himself into
the unresisting body below him and relaxed, well content. Eventually, after
freeing Boromir's hands, he turned Boromir over again, removed the cloth around
his mouth and kissed him deeply.
Boromir revived somewhat and found his lover kissing him. He returned the
caresses, happy that Aragorn was pleased with him. Little bolts of desire
skittered along his nerves mixing with the pain that was already there, making
every sensation exquisitely pleasurable.
"My beautiful, golden boy, you are my own," Aragorn murmured, stroking the
sweaty hair away from Boromir's face. Boromir nodded, rubbing his head into the
hand.
"And you will never disobey me again and you will never leave me?" Aragorn
asked, kissing Boromir's neck.
"Never," Boromir avowed, arching into the touch.
"Your only other task then, with the Fellowship, shall be to defend the Hobbits
at any cost. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord," Boromir answered, elated that Aragorn trusted him with such an
important task. The distant whispering came back, but he ignored it,
concentrating on Aragorn.
"Let's get you cleaned up, then," Aragorn was suddenly cheerful.
While Aragorn wet a cloth and washed the blood and sweat and come from his
body, Boromir lay quietly, shivering occasionally. Aragorn was so kind to him,
helping him like this. Aragorn was the sun and the moon; he was everything,
friend, lover, brother, mother, and father. And Boromir would do anything to
make him happy.
by Raederle
I see... the blood all over your hands...
does it make you feel... more like a man...
was it all... just a part of your plan...
I hate you...
I can't live without you...
I breathe you...
I taste you...
I can't live without you...
—from "Always" by Saliva
