Title: Láthspell

Author: Henrika (henrika_amanda@yahoo.se)

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Gandalf/Saruman and Gandalf/Gríma

Summary: A day in the life of Gandalf as Saruman's slave at Orthanc. 

Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, not me. I make no money from writing 
this. Please don't sue.

Archive: My own site, http://www.angelfire.com/wizard2/henrika/index Meddling in the 
Affairs of Wizards, (hopefully!) Library of Moria, Ice on Fire. Others, please ask first. 

Feedback: Of course, I'd love it!

Beta: Nefertiti. Thanks, m'dear!

Notes: This story is AU and takes places in a universe where the dark side won the War of the 
Ring. Gandalf is Saruman's prisoner and personal pleasure slave. This is a dark tale that 
contains non-consensual sex and BDSM. If this does not appeal to you, turn back now. 
Constructive criticism is welcome, but I want no flames for the subject matter. You have been 
warned!

*~*~*~*

Gandalf awoke slowly to the light of morning that pierced the large window with its thick, 
black curtains next to the bed. He sighed quietly and chose to keep his eyes closed even 
though he was awake. So, a new day had begun. Not that it really mattered to him, though. All 
his days, weeks, and months were the same nowadays. It was impossible to keep track of 
dates and even of the days of the week. Sundays were the worst, though. That was when his 
Master... 

A loud, drawn-out yawn suddenly sounded from behind him, and the arm wrapped around his 
waist flexed. Saruman - or Master, as he was to Gandalf now - had awoken. The tall, lanky 
body of the White Wizard moved behind Gandalf's smaller frame that lay in the curve of 
Saruman's, and the Istar's hand - long-fingered with terrifyingly sharp nails - moved down 
along Gandalf's belly until it seized his soft penis. 

"Good morning, my pet..." Saruman purred in his ear. "Have you slept well?"

"Yes, Master..." Gandalf whispered back, knowing the punishment for not answering when 
he was spoken to. 

Saruman continued to rub the cock, which slowly hardened from the stimulation. Gandalf 
loathed the sensation. It made him feel as though he was actually enjoying it, which he did not 
do for one second. Saruman brushed his long, silver hair back, exposing his neck, and Gandalf 
could feel his former fellow wizard's sharp, pointy nose nuzzling his nape. He could also feel 
the other's growing erection against his buttocks. It hardly surprised him. Saruman usually 
wanted sex in the mornings. This one was obviously no exception. 

"Turn over," the White Wizard demanded, his voice husky with arousal. His cock was already 
straining, and he couldn't wait to empty his seed into Gandalf's hot, tight bowels. 

Gandalf quickly obeyed his Master's command. He settled onto his knees and elbows, resting 
his face against the pillow. He was glad that Saruman did not want to take him face to face 
this time. At least he would not have to look into the eyes of the one he had once loved and 
revered. 

The bedcovers were swept back, and Saruman rose to his knees behind Gandalf, spreading the 
other's meagre buttocks to expose his crinkled entrance. He already knew that his nails 
prevented him from preparing Gandalf safely, and he did not want to cause his pet 
unnecessary pain or damage. There was a clay jar containing ointment on the bedside table, 
but instead of reaching for it, Saruman chose to simply spit in his hand and spread the saliva 
over his throbbing, purple shaft. It was enough for a lubricant. He had done it before, and 
besides Gandalf was even tighter that way. 

Placing one hand on the small of his pet's back and gripping his engorged member with the 
other, Saruman began to enter Gandalf. The other wizard whimpered softly when the 
momentary pain due to the lack of lubrication overwhelmed him, but he had been through this 
before and knew how to relax his muscles. Saruman was not overly rough, and the initial sting 
only lasted for a few seconds. 

Once he was fully sheathed in Gandalf's moist, hot grasp, Saruman quickly established a 
steady, even rhythm. He reached in under Gandalf's belly, taking the wizard's now flaccid 
cock in his hand. It became half-hard after only a few strokes, and he continued to pump it in 
time with his thrusts. 

Gandalf tried to stay as still as possible and waited for Saruman to finish. He did not want this 
act to last longer than necessary. He did not try to hold back his own climax when he felt it 
building in his groin-area, because he knew that he would be punished if he did not "come for 
his Master", as Saruman so eloquently put it. 

Long, sharp nails dug into the skin of Gandalf's hips when Saruman finally reached his 
climax and emptied himself within his pleasure slave with a loud groan of satisfaction. The 
cock in his hand erupted only a few seconds later, and Gandalf's seed spurted over Saruman's 
fist and also on the sheets under them. To the trapped Istar it was a mechanical orgasm he had 
learned to master simply to avoid punishment. His spent Master remained inside him while 
leaning heavily against him and waiting for his strength to return. 

At last Saruman straightened himself and pulled out with an audible slurp. He wiped his 
messy cock on a damp piece of fabric but deliberately avoided cleaning the hand sticky with 
Gandalf's seed. 

"Lick this clean for me, pet," he said with a sneer, tangling his other hand in the wizard's long 
hair and pulling Gandalf's head toward himself. Gandalf started his task without questions or 
objections. He knew better than to question Saruman's commands by now, no matter how odd 
or repulsive they were. Slowly and carefully he licked his own semen from his Master's 
beautiful hand, his mouth being used to the taste of it now. He had swallowed a good 
mouthful of Saruman's essence yesterday evening, and the taste never seemed to disappear 
completely. It would linger forever. 

"Good pet, Gandalf," Saruman said with an appreciative smile when the other wizard had 
completed his task. He patted Gandalf's head and then tilted his chin upwards. "Now help me 
get dressed."

So far this day had not been any different from the average day in his life. Gandalf nodded 
meekly and left the bed to bring Saruman's clothes. His Master wore an imposing and 
intricate white garb, matching white undergarments, and boots. He collected the clothes into 
his arms and returned to the large bed to dress the White Wizard. Gandalf himself had no 
clothes to put on. He had not had any since he was taken here as Saruman's slave. His Master 
wanted him naked at all times. He had gotten pretty accustomed to it by now, and it did not 
bother him unless the weather got really cold and affected the temperature inside Saruman's 
bedchamber. That rarely happened, because the Lord of Orthanc also disliked being cold. 

"Now, would you like some water?" Saruman inquired. 

The salty taste of semen in his mouth suddenly reminded Gandalf of his thirst. "Yes, Master."

"Very well." Saruman lifted the large decanter containing water from his beside table and 
poured some into a glass. "Here."

He allowed Gandalf, who was kneeling before him, to drink and slake his thirst. The wizard 
drank greedily in large gulps. Never had water tasted this good. He was almost hoping that 
Saruman would allow him another glass when he was finished, but that did not happen. 

"Come," his Master said, pulling him to his feet and leading him toward a much hated object. 

There was an empty chair standing in the middle of the large chamber, bolted to the floor, and 
every day, after the morning arrangements had been taken care of, Gandalf was taken to the 
chair, bound to it, and left alone for what usually lasted from an hour to four or five. This day 
was no exception. Saruman tied his wrists together and secured them behind the back of the 
chair, and his legs were tied to the thick oak legs of the chair as well. And finally the ball-gag 
was put on him. Gandalf hated it more than anything else his Master had ever used on him, 
and Saruman probably knew it. That was the reason he insisted on using it. The first time he 
was tied up and left alone, Gandalf had screamed until his lungs were aching and his throat 
was bloody and sore. Then Saruman had started using the gag. Gandalf had certainly not 
screamed or even attempted to do so in a very long time, and still Saruman refused to leave 
him without the offensive gag. It was a part of this game. His punishment. He knew that. 

Saruman regarded his gagged and bound fellow Istar with a smug expression. Gandalf was 
utterly helpless, just as he wanted him. 

"I have some business to take care of. Now be a good pet until I return," he said with a smile, 
stroked Gandalf's cheek, and left. The bound wizard knew that this was going to be a long 
day. 

*~*~*

An hour always felt like several to Gandalf while being alone and tied to the chair, and the 
uncomfortable position made his joints ache already after a few minutes - or so it seemed. 
Trying to wriggle out of the bonds was pointless as well, and even if he somehow could 
manage, Saruman would be furious when he returned and found out. Gandalf had seen 
enough of Saruman's fury to know that it was in his own best interest to keep his Master in as 
good a mood as possible. Life as Saruman's "pet slave" was bearable as long as the White 
Wizard did not direct his anger at him. 

Gandalf tried to relax in his bonds and think of happy memories from his past. Before all this 
happened. This was his second year as a slave at Orthanc, and he knew very little of what 
went on outside the walls of the keep, as he was almost never allowed to leave this room. Just 
as well, he thought. I doubt I would like to know what goes on in Middle-earth these days. 

After a while he became aware of the fact that he would soon need to empty his bladder. The 
realization frightened the bound Istar. What if Saruman did not return until the need became 
dire? He could not hold it back forever, and if he soiled himself... He almost dared not think 
of the consequences. Saruman would believe that he did it on purpose - or at least claim that 
he did - and punish him. 

Time went by, and the White Istar did not return to check on his prisoner. Gandalf's entire 
belly had started to cramp, and at last only his iron will kept his body from expelling the 
urine. He had to bite down on the gag and even breathe with the utmost caution. His arms and 
legs had gone almost numb, since he could not move at all, and beads of sweat had started to 
collect in the fine hairs by the edge of his scalp and in his large eyebrows. 

Gandalf fought long and hard against his natural needs, but he was doomed to lose and in the 
end his bladder's urge to empty itself became too great, even for him. The cramping muscles 
in his stomach slowly relaxed as the warm fluid poured down his legs and formed a pool on 
the floor underneath him. With a hanging head and a feeling of growing dread in his chest, the 
bound wizard awaited the return of his Master. 

*~*~*

When Saruman returned, a little over four hours after leaving, Gandalf was still sitting in the 
same position as before, although the large pool of urine underneath the chair was something 
new. The White Wizard compressed his lips into a thin line, and his stern, dark eyes 
narrowed. Then he started clicking his tongue.

"My, my, Gandalf... Aren't you a filthy little bitch... Did I say that you could soil yourself 
while I was away?"

At last Gandalf dared to raise his head. It was the response he had expected. "But you left me 
alone for hours!" he cried, desperate to explain himself. "I tried to hold it back, but I could 
not! Please, Saruman, don't punish me, I will clean it up, I..."

Saruman's open palm hit him across the face only a fraction of a second later. "To you I am 
*only* "Master", my nasty pet!" he growled. "Never forget that! Now, who am I?"

"Master..." Gandalf whispered. A rapidly growing red welt had begun to form on his cheek 
where the blow hit him, and the smarting pain reminded him of his error. 

"Yes, that is correct. I am Master. I have been indulgent with you many times, but I fear I 
have no choice but to punish you for this," Saruman continued in a serious, grim voice, 
although it was possible to spot the underlying malice of his words. "I think I know what to 
do... Today is Friday, and Gríma usually gets his hour with you on Sundays, but I think I will 
let him have you now... for two hours."

To Gandalf it felt like having the air knocked out of him. There was nothing he despised more 
than Gríma's weekly "visits". The slimy, vile worm of a Man was a thousand times worse 
than Saruman. He usually endured the hour simply by closing his eyes and pretending that he 
was somewhere far away. Now he would have to endure two hours in a row. No. It was far 
too cruel a punishment for an accident such as this. 

"Forgive me, please, Master..." he murmured, pleading with Saruman. "Not... that."

"Pleading will take you nowhere, my pet," the White Wizard replied sternly and started to 
untie Gandalf's bonds. "Maybe this will teach you a lesson."

The naked, hapless Istar was lead back to the bed by his unrelenting Master, and he knew 
what awaited him. Some of the urine still stuck to his inner thighs and tricked down in cold 
rivulets. 

"Wipe yourself clean," Saruman ordered, handing him the same rag which he used to wipe his 
own cock in the morning. Gandalf obediently cleaned his nether regions and handed the rag 
back to Saruman. Not that it really mattered if he was clean or not. Gríma himself always 
reeked of piss, old sweat, and various other bodily odours. While pleasuring him, Gandalf 
often had to fight back nausea, and he feared that he might fail to do so this time. 

Gandalf was tied to the bed with thick leather straps which cut mercilessly into his already 
sore skin. Both his wrists and ankles had been strapped steadfastly to the strong four-poster 
bed, and his bonds gave him little space to move. Gandalf had ceased his pleadings now, 
knowing that it was futile and would only aggravate his Master. He was stoically staring up at 
the ceiling and secretly dreading the coming two hours. He did not want to show Saruman 
how revolted he actually was. If he did, the White Wizard might give Gríma three hours 
instead of two. 

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, Saruman smiled almost amiably. "There!" he 
said. "I shall withdraw now. Gríma will be here in a moment."

Saruman left and Gandalf was alone - again. He attentively listened for sounds that might 
indicate Gríma's arrival, and his heart sped up every time he heard something creaking. This 
alone was torment. Had Saruman realized it and told Gríma to postpone his coming on 
purpose? Possibly. Or perhaps the worm simply had other business to finish first. 

The dreaded moment came approximately eighteen minutes after Saruman's withdrawal. The 
large, heavy door opened slowly, and the White Wizard's black-clothed human servant 
entered. Gandalf glanced briefly in his direction. Gríma looked like he always did. His long, 
dark, greasy hair and pale complexion gave his face a sick glow, and his rat's eyes shone with 
twisted expectation and excitement. 

"Hello, Stormcrow..." Gríma said with a wry smile and began to shed his clothes. "The 
Master said you had been naughty and deserved a punishment. I will happily see to that."

Gandalf became aware of the human's stench when Gríma approached the bed and leaned 
over his bound form. Wormtongue was now only wearing his undershirt, and the wizard could 
see his cock, already erect, peaking out from under it. Despite the sickening smell, Gandalf 
hoped that Gríma would only use his mouth this time. He was still slightly sore from his 
coupling with Saruman earlier, and the human was never gentle. 

Removing his final piece of clothing, Gríma climbed onto the bed and straddled the wizard's 
lean torso. A tremor passed through Gandalf at the contact, and Gríma knew why. The Istar 
found him as repulsive as every other being he had been - or tried to be - intimate with, but 
that no longer affected Wormtongue in a negative way. He had learned to use his unattractive 
appearance and repulsiveness to his advantage and now took pleasure in seeing the 
involuntary grimace of disgust on the once-so-mighty Istar's face. He knew how degrading 
this was to Gandalf, and to Gríma that was a large part of his excitement. He gave his erection 
a few strokes and moved even closer to the wizard's face, noticing that Gandalf had to fight 
back the urge to turn his head away from the offending organ. 

Gandalf knew what was expected of him now, but he would not start before he was explicitly 
told to do so. 

"Open your mouth, Láthspell," Gríma sneered contemptuously, not having forgotten the day 
when Gandalf arrived in Edoras and managed to break his hold over Théoden. The wizard 
probably detested this insulting nickname as much as Gríma himself had hated being referred 
to as "Wormtongue". 

The wizard complied and managed to take in the Man's smelly organ without choking or 
vomiting. He started pleasuring the worm to the best of his ability, hoping that he could make 
Gríma spend his seed and thus not having to spread his legs for him. Bile rose in his throat 
occasionally, but he fought it back down. Saruman was truly a million times easier to pleasure 
than this foul and disgusting excuse for a Man. His fellow Istar was not unattractive by classic 
definitions, and Saruman had always been thorough with his hygiene. Gandalf could not 
remember an occasion when his Master had smelled rank, between the legs or elsewhere. But 
not even thoughts of Saruman were easy to focus on with Wormtongue's cock in his mouth. 
He sucked on it with hollowed cheeks and swirled his tongue around the head, still hoping 
that Gríma would not have enough self-control to pull back before he came. It had happened 
before, and he was hopeful. Gandalf could tell that his climax was near. 

"Stop," the human suddenly ordered, pulling his cock out with a frustrated groan. "You 
almost made me spend! Not quite yet, Láthspell... We have many things left to do!"

The twisted lustre in Gríma's eyes when he pronounced the words made Gandalf's skin crawl. 
He hoped that the human would not want to play one of those stupid dominance games or tell 
Gandalf to "act as his harlot". He really didn't believe he could do it convincingly now, and 
the sooner this was over, the better. Then perhaps the worm would finish before his two hours 
had come to an end. 

"The Master told me to pleasure you... whatever that means..." Gríma muttered, moving to 
lie down beside Gandalf instead of straddling him. He began to stroke the wizard's chest and 
stopped at the left nipple just to squeeze the tight bud. Gandalf squirmed. 

"Please, don't..." he said. Forced pleasure was somehow even worse than pain, and while he 
could tolerate Saruman's quite skilful ministrations, the idea of Wormtongue's mouth or 
hands on him, trying to give pleasure, was nearly unbearable. Gríma always just took his own 
pleasure, and Gandalf preferred it that way. 

"I'm sorry, my friend - Master's orders," Gríma replied and with that lowered his mouth onto 
the nipple which he had pinched only moments ago. Gandalf tried to squirm away from the 
sickening sensation, but then he suddenly felt a sharp, burning pain spreading over the entire 
left side of his chest, and he immediately realized that Gríma had bitten into his nipple. 

Gandalf cried out and struggled fiercely against his bonds, and if only his hands had been 
free, he would have thrown Gríma into the nearest wall. At least that was his first impulse. 
When the worm raised his head, Gandalf could see that his lips were coloured red by blood.

"Why did you do that?!" he snarled at Gríma from between clenched teeth. The pain was still 
sharp, although slowly dissipating, and he could feel a small rivulet of blood forming across 
his chest. 

Wormtongue grinned at him. "I thought you enjoyed the pain. Don't you enjoy it when 
Master ties you to the chair and when he spanks you?"

Gandalf had a venomous reply on his tongue, but he chose to hold it back as it was no use 
bandying words with someone like Gríma Wormtongue. He did not believe that the human 
would seriously try to hurt him; an act like that would awake Saruman's fury, because his 
Master wanted his pet in one healthy piece. Although knowing that Gríma had sadistic 
tendencies was hardly any comfort. 

Gríma licked his lips. "I believe that I have less than an hour left of my time. We should 
proceed to *my* pleasure."

Gandalf sighed and laid back against the pillow, allowing his taut muscles to relax. The 
smarting pain in his left nipple had faded into a dull, throbbing ache, but it still hurt and 
would continue to do so for days. Still, the worst part of his "punishment" remained. Gríma 
was going to fuck him. Well, if he relaxed and if lubricant was used, it would not hurt as 
much. He would not ask the human to be gentle, as his wish would not be granted anyway. 
Rather it would have the opposite effect. 

Gríma knew about the clay jar with the ointment and that he was free to use it, but he would 
not do it this time. If he tore the wizard badly, Saruman would notice it and take measures, but 
he knew that Gandalf could take a Man-sized cock dryly without being damaged in the 
process. He had not dared to try it until now, but surely Saruman had, and Gríma knew that 
his Lord was considered well-endowed, unlike him. The wizard's legs were already bound 
and splayed, but Gríma drew them up as far as the bonds allowed, causing his captive to hiss 
from the strain. Having Gandalf bound excited him beyond normal levels. He was in complete 
control of the situation now. Gríma was no fool, and he was very well aware that the Istar's 
physical strength surpassed his own and that if he went too far, an unbound Gandalf could 
easily overpower him. No such thing would happen now, though. The wizard could only 
groan and writhe under him. 

"The Master had you this morning, did he not?" he asked when exposing Gandalf's entrance. 
It was not swollen or loose, but there were traces of dried semen around it. The idea of putting 
his cock straight in another male's seed was slightly unappealing to Gríma, but he decided not 
to care. He would get release - that was all that mattered. 

When Gríma leaned over him with nearly all of his weight and the human's stinking breath 
washed over his face, Gandalf had to turn his face away. Gríma's cock was putting pressure 
on his opening, and he realized that the worm was trying to penetrate him without using his 
hand to guide his erection inside. With no lubricant and a most unwilling partner, it was 
doomed to fail. 

"Use your hand, and it will be quicker..." the wizard sighed. 

Wormtongue muttered curses but heeded the Istar's advice. Once the head was inside, the rest 
was no problem, despite the lack of lubrication and preparation. Gríma started pounding hard 
and fast, taking no heed to the wizard's comfort. Gandalf also had trouble breathing, as the 
human was not even considerate to take his weight onto his own arms. Gríma's stale breath 
was not the only thing that smelled. His head in general did as well. How long had it been 
since he'd washed his hair? Weeks? Months? It was really a wonder that Gandalf could not 
see any lice or mange in his scalp. On the other hand, he was not interested in taking a more 
thorough look. 

Fortunately Wormtongue's excitement caused him to spend within ten minutes. Gandalf drew 
a sigh of relief when he felt the Man's warm seed flooding his channel. It was over. Gríma 
usually didn't stick around after he had found release, and hopefully he would not make an 
exception now. 

Gandalf was right. As soon as he had recovered some strength, Gríma rolled off the wizard, 
wiped himself, and started getting dressed. To Gandalf it was a huge relief just to be able to 
breathe normally. 

"That was good..." the human grinned before he turned around to leave. "I can see why the 
Master wants to keep you as his bed-warmer, Láthspell." 

Gandalf did not answer. He closed his eyes and heard the sound of Wormtongue's leaving. 
Now he could only wait for Saruman to return. His backside ached, and so did his mauled 
nipple. Besides he was starting to get cold simply lying there without any cover. Hopefully his 
Master would let him bathe tonight, or at least tomorrow morning. Gríma's visits always left 
him with a filthy, unclean feeling.

*~*~*

When Saruman returned it was after sunset, and his chamber was dark, save for the flickering 
light of a small candle that would burn out any minute. The White Wizard cast only a quick 
glance in his pet's direction before starting a fire in the fireplace. It was autumn, and the room 
cooled pretty quickly without it. 

Once the room was properly illuminated and the warmth started spreading through the air, 
Saruman padded over to the king-sized bed. In some miraculous way, Gandalf had managed 
to fall asleep. The White Wizard crouched next to the edge of the bed, studying the sleeping 
creature. Gandalf had traces of dried tears on his cheeks, so probably he had been crying. 
Saruman raised his hand and gently stroked his pet's tangled, white hair from his forehead. 

Gandalf's eyelids fluttered, and he woke up to discover that his Master had returned. When he 
tried to move, he realized that the straps tying him to the bed still remained. 

"Please... untie me, Master..." he said hoarsely, desperate to move his almost completely 
numb arms. 

"Yes, my pet. I will untie you now," Saruman replied and started undoing Gandalf's bonds. 
The bound Istar's shoulders ached when he was finally able to lower his arms, and when the 
feeling returned, he noticed how sore his wrists were. The hard leather had cut into his skin 
when he thrashed earlier, causing sore, red welts and bruises. 

"Now, how are you feeling? Was my little servant rough with you?" Saruman asked when he 
noticed how shaken Gandalf actually was. 

"Yes, he hurt me..." Gandalf whispered, rubbing his aching wrists. "He bit me..."

"He bit you? Where?"

The wizard nodded at his chest. Saruman's frown revealed that he was displeased with what 
he saw. "That was not what I had in mind," he stated. "I will have a word with him. This must 
never happen again."

//The best way to stop it from happening is not giving me to him again,// Gandalf had wanted 
to point out, but he did not want to anger his Master. Not now, when Saruman seemed to be in 
a tender mood. 

The White Wizard smiled leniently. "I am sorry for this, my pet," he said and drew Gandalf 
into his embrace. "I will make sure that it never happens again. Gríma knows that biting is 
forbidden. You have earned yourself a reprieve, Gandalf. Tomorrow I will let you rest, and 
Gríma will not have you on Sunday. This is my promise."

Gandalf felt like crying in his Master's arms. Maybe it was the relief. At times it almost 
seemed as if Saruman actually loved him, after all. Not just as a "bed-warmer" but as an 
individual. Such moments did not occur often, but when it happened, Gandalf's miserable 
existence felt a little less miserable. 

"Thank you, Master... I thank you so much..." he sobbed, wetting his Master's shoulder with 
fresh tears. Finally Saruman disengaged from the embrace and tilted Gandalf's chin upwards. 

"Lie down on the bed, and I will see what can be done about that nipple," he said. 

"Can I please bathe?" Gandalf asked with a sniffle. "I would really like to..."

"Tomorrow. Now lie back."

Gandalf complied, and his Master began by cleansing the sore little nub with water and 
proceeded by smearing on some healing ointment. The salve made it sting a little, but after a 
while it started feeling better instead. Gandalf was finally able to relax and enjoy Saruman's 
tender treatment of him. He wondered if the White Wizard actually felt bad for what had 
happened to him and tended to him as compensation, but he dared not ask. Saruman's mood 
could change in an instant, and not often to Gandalf's benefit. 

"Are you hungry, my pet? I told my servants to bring up food later this evening."

Gandalf nodded. He wasn't really that hungry, but he had not eaten anything during the entire 
day, and some food would be welcome. 

The food was brought up to them by a young, male human servant about half an hour later. 
Saruman offered him a good half of it, which was more than he usually got. Gandalf had 
always had a large appetite, and his nomadic lifestyle had stopped him from gaining weight 
during the past 2000 years. Now he got virtually no exercise and was only allowed one meal a 
day and occasionally some treats. Saruman was determined to keep him thin at any cost. The 
sudden decrease in energy intake had been difficult to cope with in the beginning, but now he 
was more or less used to it. 

"That's it, my pet," Saruman said when Gandalf was finished with his meal. He always ate 
with his hands, whereas the White Wizard used forks and knives. "Was that good?"

"Yes, Master," Gandalf replied, licking his fingertips. "Thank you."

"I assume that you are weary now?"

"Yes, Master, that I am."

"Then we should probably settle down to rest. I am weary as well."

Saruman rose from the bed and began to remove his own clothes instead of doing the usual - 
ordering Gandalf to disrobe him. After pulling a brush through his waist-long, white hair, he 
climbed back into bed, naked, and drew the covers over them both. He would keep his 
promise to Gandalf and let him rest this night. His pet truly deserved a reprieve. Saruman 
could easily rut one of his servants to satisfy his needs. They were all - the wenches, anyway - 
very eager to please their Lord in any way imaginable, and pleasuring him in the ways of the 
flesh was a great honour to a simple domestic slave. 

Gandalf's breathing had become so deep and even that it sounded as though he was asleep. He 
wasn't. He was fully awake, resting his head on his Master's arm and listening to his steady 
heartbeats. Saruman's arm was firmly wrapped around his waist, as usual, although this time 
the embrace was not possessive but protective. 


The End