## Archive-name: elceleth1-3

From: Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org

Subject: "Elceleth" part 1

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

The THC Adult Text Archive: ELCLETH1.TXT (389 lines) Please do not allow anyone under 18 to read the contents of this message. Note: I did not write any of these stories. They are being posted from the archive as a public service only - any copyrights belong to the authors. See the footer for important information. ==========================================================================

Chapter 1

Sweat dripped off her glistening body as she lay helpless and exhausted from her struggles against her bonds. Her arms were bound together behind her back by a leather sheath which ended in a sack for her hands and buckled tightly to a collar of leather around her neck. Her legs were similarly encased in a sheath that ran from the toes to just above the knees. Straps at the end of the hand and foot pouches were buckled together, so that laying, naked as she was, on her side was least uncomfortable. Most humiliating of all was the object around and within her mouth, that prevented her from uttering anything but the most muffled of sounds. It was a gag in the shape of a male human member, held firmly in place by a wide strap which buckled behind her head, with an additional strap under her chin to prevent it from slipping. As she lay motionless on the suede skin, now soaked with her own sweat, she pondered how she came to this fate.

...At 200 turns of the seasons in age, Elceleth thought she had seen everything this small community had to offer. As a favored dancer, she was oft times asked by the Elders to perform for their guests. She alone of all the dancers in the area kept her blue-white hair short, nearly as short as a helm-wearing warrior, as if to flaunt the fact that her dancing did not need flowing hair to embellish it. Her elven ears were particularly sharply pointed, and only enhanced the effect of her cropped hair. She loved to dance. It was when she danced that she felt most free and alive. Although her execution of the traditional dances was flawless, she was renowned and loved for her freeform dances. She had danced for humans before, and usually found them wanting in wit and manners. This night she expected to be no different.
Her dance went particularly well that evening, perhaps because the guest was truly mystifying. He was a head taller than any one in the hall, making him of a size with the black-haired City Elves from the east. Yet he was broader, like any human warrior, with neat short golden hair of the style that class generally wore. His face was fair of feature, beautiful and tanned, with ice blue eyes which burned with an intensity which only the rarest of Humans possessed; an intensity unknown to the unaging elves. He wore a white linen shirt which exposed his strongly muscled chest, and tight leggings of black leather.
Perhaps her dance reflected the way he both fascinated and frightened her. Being of Wood Elven stock, she was small and lithe; slimly toned and agile as she danced. Her energy rose to a fevered pitch as she reached the climax of her dance, then finished.
Elder Zantah told her she had never danced better as he brought her over to meet his guest. As she approached, Elceleth noticed the female human kneeling at the blonde mountain's side. She had long black hair and deep brown eyes that said "I am his". She wore less than Elceleth herself would wear for an erotic dance; a two piece leather outfit which hardly covered her rounded breasts, which made Elceleth feel like a child in comparison. A long loincloth which left her hips and legs bare and fell to the knees completed her costume. She also wore a stiff leather collar of a matching color which was wide enough to keep her neck well postured. Elceleth thought "Not a mate, nor a consort, nor a servant. She has the bearing of a favored pet; a champion of her breed."
Elder Zantah introduced them as Master Corlon and Mistress Qantar, emissaries from the court of Regent Kenia of the coastal kingdom of Iborland. That explained much to her. She had heard stories of Iborians, thought she had thought the stories of females being property were just rumors. Looking at Mistress Qantar's eyes showed that all this was true. Iborland been looking to trade for lumber for years, needing it for their ever growing navy. Elceleth's region had a desperate shortage of iron and steel for armor and weapons in combating the ever encroaching hordes of humanoid monsters. A deal must be in the offing, for Iborland was known from long before the coming of humans as the Iron Coast. Master Corlon's eyes studied her as a cattleman might examine a brood mare. Elceleth shivered from that look and found the first excuse to leave the dinner, knowing that Zantah would send her payment around the next morning.
While she slept that night, she had uneasy dreams of Corlon's stare and how he placed his collar around her neck and attached a chain lead to it, drawing her close and whispering "Mine" with possessive intensity. She awoke with a start to find that her dream had become an all-too- real nightmare. As she tried to scream, Corlon jammed a wad of cloth in her mouth and secured it with another strip of cloth, then hoisted her easily over his shoulder and carried her into the night. Her punches and kicks struck ineffectually against his massive form as he carried her struggling body to a waiting wagon, where he methodically stripped her and bound her as she now lay...

Elceleth squinted as a shaft of morning light fell upon her eyes when the flap to the wagon was opened. Mistress Qantar slinked in like a predatory cat eyeing a helpless morsel foolish enough to find itself unable to flee. Elceleth squirmed her body over as far as her limited mobility would allowed. Then Corlon climbed in as the wagon lurched forward. Corlon spoke to her in near-perfect elvish as he sat in a throne-like chair. "Well, little one, you will be pleased to know that the Wood Elves need never fear from those nasty hobgoblins again. Iborland is trading your people a substantial amount of iron; enough to arm and armor every elf in this region. In return we will receive enough wood for 5 warships, and of course, you. Quite frankly, my Lord Regent Kenia had half a mind to deal with the hordes, and just might have... except that your Elders saw the wisdom of our ways, and added you to the trade. What do you say to this?"
Her eyes said it all more eloquently than if she could speak though the horribly obscene phallic gag - Betrayal and Fear. How could her Elders literally sell her to a human? What did he want of her? She suddenly became frighteningly aware of her nakedness, and rolled on her belly to in a vain attempt to hide herself.
"Oh no, my dear, we can't have that. Qantar, punish her." The black-maned pet picked up a leather covered paddle, and proceeded to swat Elceleth all over her exposed torso and buttocks as Corlon continued to speak. "You must be trained to act as an Iborian. You belong to me and will always do as I say. You will always kneel in my presence unless ordered to do otherwise. You will always cross your wrists in front of you if I approach you, if you are not bound already. You will not speak unless I order you to speak. When I give you an order, you will follow that order as quickly as possible, as long as I do not order you to do otherwise. All this you will do, and more, under fear of punishment. Do you understand?"
Elceleth was pink all over her exposed body. Her every movement was agony. But she nodded 'yes' though the haze of pain of joints stiff from restraint and tender, paddled flesh.
"Excellent." he purred. "Qantar! Go to the next wagon and await my summons." Qantar, whose eyes were aglow with delight, crawled to the edge of the wagon like a cat who had found a mouse particularly tasty, and exited without a word.
Corlon then pulled out a soft feather and played it across Elceleth's body. Her senses were now aflame with the softness, which was heightened by the sensitivity of her battered skin. He soon brought her to orgasm, without even touching her easily accessible clitoris. He then removed the phallic gag from her mouth.
"You see the natural order of things? We Iborians bring greater pleasure to our women than anyone else in the world. All we ask in return is complete and absolute obedience; unconditional surrender." he said as he freed her from all her bonds save her collar and lead. "But for you I provide the ultimate honor. A choice; perhaps the last one of your life. You have experienced a small taste of the Iborian way. You may now choose. Stay with me, be mine, and ultimate pleasure is yours; and the Wood Elves need never fear from the hordes again. Refuse me, and go back to your village, naked and collared. I'm sure a good smith would only take an hour or two to break the lock. Forsake pleasure, and forsake your people; for our agreement hinges on you. Leave and Iborland deals with the hordes, and all you know will be dust. Choose, little one."
"I...I...w..will stay w..with you, but I want to know - why?!?"
"I wanted you; that is sufficient. If others want you, they must slay me to win you. You have chosen, but I do not sense total surrender in your eyes. That will change with time, probably after I shave and brand you. Eat your fill and await my return." With that he locked her lead to his heavy chair and leaped out of the moving wagon, leaving his newest pet to ponder her decision.

When Corlon returned to the wagon, Elceleth had indeed fed, and had wrapped the floor skin around her torso. Immediately he flung the skin from her, turned her over his knee and spanked her sharply five times. She yelped like a frightened cur with each blow.
"That is for disobeying me!" he snarled. "You did not cross your wrists when I entered, and I did not say you could cover yourself!"
"But I was cold, Cor-YIPE!" Her protests were cut short by another spank. She had not been spanked in 150 years, since the time she broke her now-late father's favorite vase. A whipping would be easier to stand, or so she thought.
"You will address me as Master Corlon or Master! Do you understand?"
"Yes, M..Master Corlon." she wept through sobs of humiliation.
"Good! Now listen carefully. If I underestimate your ability to tolerate the cold, you will perform your duties less ably that I expect. It is MY decision whether to tolerate your lesser performance or to clothe you. Total obedience means not to assume anything. If I leave you naked, and do not tell you to cover yourself, you will stay naked until I order you dressed. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master." she whimpered. How could her Elders do this to her? Was Iborian iron so important that they would accept her abduction without complaint? If it was so important could they not have asked her, or at least told her? Or was her unwilling abduction part of the deal?
"We will be stopping soon for the night. When I call for you, you will come out of the wagon, eat while warming yourself by the fire, then lie on your belly upon the leather skin which will already be laid out, and wait. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master." she replied as Corlon unlocked her lead from her collar. NO! THE lead from THE collar. She mustn't think of the collar as hers. But now what? She was more than a day's journey from home, naked and collared. If she ran away, he would probably find her and beat her again, like a disobedient hound. She didn't want that humiliation. So she waited.

When she heard her name, she came out and walked reluctantly to the fire, as a cur might who wasn't sure if she had done wrong. She felt alone, more than naked, and humiliated that she must follow HIS orders. A dozen pairs of eyes did not fall upon her as she truly expected; but continued to focus on conversations as if her approach was beneath their notice. She wasn't sure if being ignored or being the center of attention was worse. By the time she reached the supper caldron, she knew for certain. To have them react as if it was as ordinary as tying her boot laces was far worse than having them leer and taunt her as she performed their tricks. She ate in silence, listening to their human tongue which seemed to have an inexplicably harsher accent than the version she had learned. Then she lay upon the skin which must be meant for her. It was surrounded by four torches mounted on metal stands which had been driven into the earth.
She lay there, waiting and wondering what was going to happen next. At least the torches kept her back and legs warm. Then she heard several humans get up from their places and approach her. She felt certain that they were going to beat her senseless for some as yet unknown disobedience, or perhaps rape her from behind in the manner of the children of the forest (for only the High One's chosen were allowed to face each other while coupling. To face each other in the sharing of passions was a goddess-given gift.. To do otherwise would be a lowering of one's self). But instead she felt a hand stroke her hair and back gently as Corlon spoke to her in elvish.
"You see how easy it is to follow directions? Now we will reward you for your obedience." <Bind her to the posts.> he finished in the Human tongue. She did not struggle as they spread her arms outstretched and up, but began to worry as they spread her legs wide enough that she was glad that she had a dancer's limberness. What was next? The feather, she hoped.
<Now prepare her for shaving.>
"WHAT?!?" she yelled with a start, and received a spank for speaking.
"Removing the body hair increases sensitivity." Corlon informed her matter-of-factly.
"NO!!" she howled, yanking uselessly against the leather bonds with all her might. She knew her actions would bring stern punishment, but in her horror and indignation did not care. Surprisingly, no pain was forth-coming; only Corlon's calm, clear voice.
<Struggle if you wish, but I'd advise against it. The blade is very sharp, and all that thrashing around could get you nicked.> There was laughter in the background from Corlon's entourage.
His word struck her like a stone wall, and the panic of fear instantly transformed into the paralysis of fear. Gentle hands spread lather on her trembling back as he continued to speak.
<Qantar, for every nick you give our little elf, I will administer one stroke with the heavy lash. But to let you know that I still favor you - if the elf's struggling causes the nick, you will receive a stroke from the light whip, and then you may in turn lash her once, as well. Does that seem fair to you?>
<Yes, my Lord-Master.> replied Qantar with a velvet-smooth tone.
Qantar continued to lather the elf and leaned down to whisper in a voice so low that Elceleth was certain only she could hear. "Do not try to be still. Just relax and think calm thoughts, and perhaps we can both avoid the lash." Elceleth tried to do as she said, thinking of a quiet waterfall she knew of. That helped.
<Yes, Qantar. You have a question?> Elceleth wondered how she was letting Corlon know she wished to speak. She wished she could see so she could learn (gasp!)...how to serve her master better.
<Yes, my Lord-Master. May I warm the blade so the first touch does not startle her? She is no doubt unused to its touch and I do not wish to mar her beauty.>
<Though I appreciate your concern, I do not believe that will be necessary. Little one, the blade may be cold. Try not to twitch too much when you feel it.>
<Yes, Master.> was Elceleth's barely audible response.
Elceleth did jump a little as the blade touched her flesh, but Qantar had anticipated that and drew no blood. The human sighed in relief, and then began her duty in ernest. Her touch was well skilled, and not once did she falter while shaving her charge's neck, back, hands, and arms. The buttocks were another matter, for the elf found the light touch embarrassing and ticklish. She jerked with every stroke of the blade, so Qantar's progress was slowed to a crawl. Each jerk made Elceleth more aware of her helplessness and vulnerability. Fortunately her legs went mercifully quickly, and her body was then rinsed with warm water.
<My Lord-Master, my task is half completed. Her bindings must be re-adjusted for me to complete my task.>
<Excellent, Qantar. Men, prepare her.>
<Yes, my Lord.> was replied by several voices in unison, and without hesitation. Elceleth was unbound fully, flipped onto her back, and rebound even more tightly. "Not so," she thought, "the leather just stretched a little, and my muscles tightened up." But now she could see Qantar, and wished that she couldnt.
Qantar was nude, and her face shone in the torchlight with a light sheen of sweat. She too was hairless save her long tresses and eyebrows. None of this disturbed the elf too much. It was the fact that Qantar's wrists were tightly roped together. How could she possibly control the blade like that?
<Qantar, do her face first.>
<Yes, my Lord-Master.>
Qantar lathered Elceleth's face including, to her horror, her long pointed ears. Then the smallest razor she had ever seen was taken to her face, as Qantar adeptly removed the fine hairlets from her face save for her thin slanted brows. Elceleth closed her eyes, and was at her waterfall again. Then the razor moved to her right ear. Elceleth moaned in mixed pleasure and outrage. How dare this human pet touch her eartips and move her to pleasure in the most intimate of areas, where only one's most favored lovers were welcome!
<Ah, my Lord. See how she stirs!> exclaimed one of his servants.
<My most sincere thanks for pointing out the obvious, Donto. It would seem that our little elf has a pleasure point unknown to us! This does bear future investigation.>
"They know!" Elceleth thought in horror, as she lay helplessly spread to the four winds. "How will I ever survive such an invasion of my body? This is ten-fold worse than rape." But still the pleasure waves struck her like breakers against a rocky shore. As any unaging one knows, eventually the water always wins. By the time Qantar had finished her ears, Elceleth was well and fully aroused.
<My Lord, shall we stroke her ears while your lady-mistress continues her task?> cruelly teased the somewhat portly Donto. Hearing this, Elceleth knew she could learn to hate that human easily.
With nearly the speed of thought, a dagger which had but an instant ago been in a sheath on Corlon's hip was firmly pinning Donto's boot in the ground. Corlon roared in anger, <Did I NOT say this bears FUTURE investigation!?!> Corlon was obviously a human who did not like others teasing his pets.
<I..I..I.beg your forgiveness, m..my Lord.> stammered the shocked retainer.
<You live only because your insolence is slightly less than your usefulness, for now. > Corlon growled. Turning to his pet, he said in a gentler voice <Continue, Qantar.>
<Yes my Lord-Master.>
And so the ritual continued. Qantar lovingly traced Elceleth's arms, feet and legs, leaving the torso for last. In shaving the torso, Qantar started from the neck, moving slowly down toward the clitoris. Being already aroused by the touching of her ears, Elceleth was brought to greater tension and pleasure, indeed excitement, by the touch of the blade to her elven-fine pubic hair. She knew that Qantar was being supremely careful not to nick her, as the drops of perspiration which fell from the human's face onto her legs and belly attested. Looking into her eyes, Elceleth could see Qantar's concentration and intensity. It was apparent to her that the human was fighting the stirrings of her own passion. Though embarrassed, Elceleth found that in her aroused state the attention and care being ministered upon her by one who found her sexual was even more exciting. When Qantar finally finished, she had to bite her tongue to keep from begging for release of her passions. Now devoid of all body hair, she felt even more than before like a child before the buxom Qantar.
It was then that she realized that her shaving was a many leveled lesson, and just how clever Corlon was. Besides the stated increase in sensitivity, the ritual was designed to make her trust and befriend Qantar (for what master wants his pets fighting?); to make her feel small and helpless; to impress upon her that he could and would do this and anything else he wanted to her (also that he did NOT bluff); and last, to discover all the most sensitive and erogenous parts of her body. How could she ever hope to outwit such cleverness?
Corlon spoke to her through her haze of introspection and need. <It would seem, little one, that you want for pleasure again. Say something that pleases me and I will give you release.>
She thought, "He wants me to surrender, to say I give in, to willingly accept all the abuses and humiliation which he heaps upon me. I need, but not at that cost. What can I say to please him without giving in?" Then she smiled and purred <Master Corlon, it would seem to me that Mistress Qantar's task is not completed until my wrists and ankles are shaven where the straps touch my skin.>
Corlon howled with delight, and once he caught his breath from laughter said, <I knew I had chosen well when I picked you! What wit and fire you have! Qantar, ease her passions.>
Qantar gave the Elf a look which told her that she had earned both humans' respect and approval. Qantar knelt between Elceleth's legs, bent down and began to stroke her victim's clitoris with her tongue. In only a moment Elceleth was writhing and howling in the throes of the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced. The sensuality of her nakedigrign; the tension, excitement, and helplessness of her spread and bound body; the supreme skill with which Qantar used her tongue; the knowledge that her captor orchestrated this whole event; all these things came together to provide a thing she had never experienced before: Intensity. This was a thing thing that no lover she had ever known before had possessed, and that was what moved her this night. She collapsed, sated with carnal pleasure. As she lay there panting, Qantar replaced her collar, and untied each bond, shaving each area as she went.
<Well done, Qantar. As a reward, I will allow you to choose any member of my entourage to pleasure this night except of course for Donto, in case you had an idea to lower your standards.>
<My Lord-Master. I am honored by your most generous gift of choice. If it pleases you, I would choose my Lord-Master; for given a choice, there is truly none that I would rather be with than you.> Corlon merely smiled at this. Qantar truly loved her master.
<I will join you presently in my sleeping wagon, my Lady-Mistress> said he as he came to Elceleth, connected a lead to her collar, and drew her up by it. He took her back to the wagon, led her in, locked her to the heavy chair again, and left. He returned not too much later to find Elceleth kneeling with her wrists crossed in front of her. He smiled, laid out a fur where the floor skin had been, fettered her ankles together with a single steel shackle, then laid her on the soft bedding. She thought about how ironic it was to be bound in the same steel that would save her people. The feel of the fur was more luxurious than she thought possible. Could it be from her lack of body hair, or from the contrast to the touch of Qantar's blade? She wasn't sure, nor did she at present care.
"You have done well today, little one." said Corlon, tossing a second fur to her. "At least for your first day. You may cover yourself with this fur as you sleep tonight. When you wake, we will no doubt already be travelling. You will feed yourself with the food that will be left for you, and will cover yourself with the fur if you find yourself too cold."
"Thank you, Master Corlon." she said, snuggling into the fur as she pulled it over herself. It felt good to be able to cover herself without fear of punishment. She, upon reflection, distinguished between nudity and nakedness. Nudity was being at ease with one's nakedness, like Qantar was. Would she ever feel nude? She sat up suddenly and turned towards Corlon, daring to speak unbidden. "May I ask a question?"
"Besides the one you have just asked? Yes. But whether I choose to answer you, I cannot guarantee."
"Why do you address me as 'little one' instead of by my name?" She felt certain that to state her name would offend him, thus destroying the favor she had endured so much earn; no, to be granted.
"The answer is threefold. One; you are little. Two; at the elvish gathering, with all the foreign names that I heard, I may just have chosen not to remember yours. Three; if I have remembered, I may not choose to call you by it. I may give you a name of my own choosing. I believe Qantar's original name was Bashinon or something like that."
"Now I understand, Master. Please forgive my ignorance."
"Of course I do, little one. And to demonstrate to you how pleased I am with your progress, I will allow you to ask one question each night as I put you to bed, until I say otherwise. Now sleep, little one, whom I may or may not choose to name Elceleth. We have a long trip ahead of us." He stroked her hair before closing the flap of the wagon.
She, an elf with no name, lay down in her master's furs, feeling very much like a favored pet; perhaps even one with the makings, in time, of a champion; waiting for the morning when she would learn a new trick to please her master. Sleep came slowly to her as she thought "If I can so quickly go from the freedom of the wind to a master's pet, was I destined to become one from the beginning?"

Copyright 1992 Pencildragon

Please don't send requests for reposts, missing parts, GIFs, FTP sites, etc. If you find getting stories from this newsgroup inconvenient, the archive is available on disk. Send a blank email to adultarc@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org for more information. Authors wishing to have files added to or removed from the THC Public archive should contact me at: tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org. Please refer comments to alt.sex.stories.d or to e-mail. Thank you.
-=( Tommy )=-

Path: gtr.hkt.net!cwix!cwix!feed1.news.erols.com!howland.erols.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!btnet!netcom.net.uk!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!mail2news.demon.co.uk!not-for-mail From: Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: "Elceleth" part 2 Date: Mon, 09 Dec 96 03:05:16 -0800 Lines: 290 Message-ID: <2021235610@f26.n340.z1.ftn> X-Mail2News-User: Tommy%f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org X-Mail2News-Path: mail.spydernet.com!network);!hades.spydernet.com!arakis.spydernet.com!f13.n340.z1.fidonet.org!f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" <Tommy%f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org>

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The THC Adult Text Archive: ELCLETH2.TXT (274 lines) Please do not allow anyone under 18 to read the contents of this message. Note: I did not write any of these stories. They are being posted from the archive as a public service only - any copyrights belong to the authors. See the footer for important information.

Chapter 2

The long trip to Iborland was not at all as Elceleth had imagined it would be, after her first torturous day of travel. It was actually rather boring if she ignored the fact that she was naked except for a heavy metal collar locked around her neck, which was attached to the floor of the wagon by a sturdy chain. The only real fascination was the new sensitivity she had with her newly shaven body. The light breezes that caressed her body when the canvas flaps opened were somehow inexplicably different, as was the feel of the soft thick fur on which she lay. She wasn't certain whether it was her lack of body hair or her new-found awareness of her lack of body hair which attributed to this sensitivity.
As he promised, every night of the journey her new Lord and Master, Corlon, answered a single question. Before each questioning, he bound her in a different way. Her questions varied greatly, from Iborian history to asking if certain restraint devices had names (that Thing she found most vile and hated most was called a penis gag). Corlon was quite patient with her and taught her much, but did not tell her that he was learning as much about her from the questions she asked as she learned from him in his answers.
The human pet, she who was called Lady-Mistress Qantar, also instructed her daily on what was and what was not proper behavior for a woman. Though the actual rules of conduct were simple by the letter of the law, the subtle nuances of the rules were just as important. One did not speak unless bidden to do so, but a timely warning of an assassin's presence was acceptable.
Elceleth was fed twice a day; alone in the morning in her wagon while the entourage travelled ever southward to the lands her elven folk called the Iron Coast, and in the evening when camp was made. The humans continued to ignore her at meal time except for the fat one, Donto, who had been chastised for taunting her. Donto's eyes literally glowed with malevolence and malignant hatred. Elceleth feared him more than she feared Lord-Master Corlon. She knew what to expect with Corlon, and what was expected of her. Donto was a random factor she didn't like.
Finally after a fortnight of travel, Corlon came to the wagon at day's end.
"Tomorrow we reach my city, Ristofor." he said in the elven tongue. "Sleep well tonight, for you will be awakened early tomorrow. You must be prepared for your entrance."
This night he did not allow a question.

In the morning before sun-up, Qantar came to her wagon, awakening her lightly. She inspected Elceleth for regrowth of any body hair, and finding to her pleasure that elves grow back hair at a very slow rate. Even Elceleth's short blue-white head hair did not need trimming.
Qantar lead her to a nearby stream, where she bathed the elf with an intimacy she had never known before. Elceleth endured this without protest, knowing that such a protect would bring punishment. Qantar explained to her that she was to be displayed like a war-prize, so that all who care to do so might view her. The people of Iborland did not take foreign folk as slaves, even after a successful war campaign, and Iborland had never waged war on elvenkind; so she was the first elf ever to enter the city as a consort.
After bathing and being dried, Elceleth was covered the whole of her exposed skin with an oil scented with rose essence, until she gleamed in the light of the early morning suns. Then she was lead to an uncovered wagon with a sturdy wooden frame attached to it. Her ankles were put in metal manacles and her legs chained at half again shoulders width apart.. A chain was then locked to her collar and attached to the top of the frame so she had to stand, though her collar was too thick to strangle herself if she lost her balance. Finally, her arms were likewise chained straight out away from her body. She was completely helpless and felt vulnerable and exposed.
During this time of bustling preparation, the loathsome Donto was constantly sneaking up to her and stroking the hapless elf. His most frequent targets were her rear, her breasts, and, curse him to the Flaming Abyss, her ears. By the time the entourage was ready to travel, Elceleth was aroused and agitated by his attentions. The last time he reached for her ears, she almost took his fingers off with her teeth.
"One day, though it may cost me my life, I will kill you, Slingotto!" she thought to herself. A slingotto was a species of lizard that crawled particularly low to the ground on its short stubby legs, favored defenseless bird chick for food, and smelled particularly unpleasant. Donto fit that description well.
The entourage then moved forward. As the suns continued to rise, a distant city of stone and iron came into view. The spires looked jagged and irregular, and the entire city was surrounded by a dull bluish-grey wall with irregular parapets. The land they now travelled through was rich farmland, overlooking a coastline. Elceleth was fascinated by the lack of trees and the vast body of water. She had never seen an ocean before, and regretted spending almost all her time within her wagon during her travels and not enjoying the scenery. She now had little choice in the matter.
Being bound as she was wasn't so bad at first. The sun was warm against her oiled, naked, hairless body, and the chains didn't spread her too tightly. Then she saw her first audience. They were only two human boys, working in the fields. The elder could not have been an adolescent yet, and the younger was barely big enough to use the hoe in his hands. It was the younger who spoke first.
<Look Kahnor, it must be an elf. Look at the pointed ears!>
<I think you're right Bhen, from what I've heard.>
<She's pretty.> said Bhen, appreciatively.
<I don't know. Her eyes are huge and beautiful,> said Kahnor, critically. <but she seems very much like a girl, if you ignore the ears. I prefer women who are more full of body, and with longer hair."
<I suppose you're right. Hey elf, are all of you elves as skinny as you?> queried the younger one.
Elceleth squirmed in her chains, distinctly uncomfortable by the candid appraisal by such young children.
Lord Corlon, who was riding beside the display wagon, ordered gently "Answer him, little own. He has bidden you to speak."
"Yes, Master Corlon." she said in elvish, then turned her head to the boy and spoke in the human tongue. <I suppose I am about of average build for an elf. Some are thinner, some are heavier, but none is as 'full of body' as the Lady-Mistress Qantar.> She indicated with a tilt of her head to her master's lady, who rode next to her master.
<I see.> said the child, going back to his work.
Kahnor began to work as well, but commented off-handedly <I will grant you that she squirms nicely in her bonds...> which was all Elceleth heard as the procession moved on. She was amazed that children so young could be raised to think in such a sexual manner.
She thought to herself now about how she should present herself. Lord Corlon was incorrect about all her choices being taken away. She could choose any number of ways to act as she was driven down the streets of this dark city that they were approaching. All she had to do was figure out the reaction she wanted from her audience, just like with a dance.
Should she stand defiantly, unmoved by the crowd? No. That would make them and Lord Corlon want to break her spirit, and Elceleth had no doubt of Corlon's capacity to break anyone's will if he chose.
Should she struggle with all her might? No. That would make them think she was a fool, and Lord Corlon would punish her for making them believe he had chosen a fool as a consort. She even didn't like the sound of the name of the ultimate punishment - The Heavy Lash. Lady Qantar had warned her of that. The same would be true if she acted how she truly felt, trying to disappear from the platform, trying to hide from the eyes of a thousand alien onlookers who wanted to get a glimpse at the Lord-Master's new pet.
Elceleth sighed, and knew that Lord Corlon was right. There was no choice. She had to behave as he wanted her. And so she truly prepared herself for introduction to the people of Ristofor, capital city of the Empire of Iborland.
They came within hailing distance of the city, and Elceleth could now see that the wall was made of iron. She wondered to herself if the ring of iron around the city was symbolic of her own plight. Did it protect the city, or did it keep the people of the people of the city in thrall to a society that treated its women as pets and playthings? Probably both. For did not her collar bind her to Lord Corlon's will? And was it also not his collar, and being his protect her from others, but not from him? He had said that none might have her without his leave, and that for another to take without it would have to kill him to do so. She knew he was as capable of protecting her as he was of defending this iron fortress of a city.
The Great Gate porticulis raised as the procession approached it. There were hundreds of onlookers hoping to be the first to see the Lord-Master's new prize. Hundreds of tongues called of the name of Corlon, or cheered him or ooh-ed and aah-ed at his pretty new pet. A small group taunted Elceleth with insults, but she knew those words were only to get a reaction out of her. She was unwilling to give them what they expected; Fear.
Instead they got pride and defiance, without arrogance. The occasional testing of a bond was calculated to let them know that she knew whose pet she was, but also to let them know that she had not been brought to the Lord-Master side meekly. She was not a passive pet raised by hand from a kitten. She was a lioness, who had fought hard and well, who had lost and now obeyed her master out of respect; but who still had her claws and teeth, and would use them if the master got careless. She was a one-master pet, and any who would win her from him would have to defeat her as well as him. Any other man was beneath her Lord- Master until they too had risked the fight. This was the way Lord Corlon wanted her to act. She was sure of it.
And so it went. The procession wormed its way toward the center of the city, then down toward the coast to a large, forbidding castle at the point of one of the two peninsulas that created Ristofor Bay. It was made of stone and iron; not a stalk or leaf of plantlife could be seen nearby. All along the way there were humans of every size, shape and color; more people than Elceleth had seen in her entire life. And every women she saw, from babe to crone, from peasant to noblewoman, wore a collar.
Bearing witness to this sea of humankind, the din of a crowd welcoming home its favorite son, the now oppressive heat of the day, the vile reek of half rotten food, human waste, and thousands of unwashed bodies all took their toll on Elceleth. She was certain that she would go mad here, and her spirit wavered. But still she kept up the front of barely tamed fire for the unwashed masses. Now it was truly a matter of pride. She did not want to show these vouyeristic perverts with mouths as filthy as their bodies that her heart was breaking. She would never see a forest again, and her soul was struck a vital wound to its core.

After the procession had entered the courtyard and the iron gate closed behind them with a resonance as indicative of inescapability as the click of the collar around her neck had been, Lord Corlon dismounted and started giving orders.
<I will meet with my regent in my study at once. Tell Scribe Gorim to prepare the finalized copy of the Elceleth Treaty. Make certain four copies are prepared - two in Iborian and two in High Elvish, not conversationl Elvish. I'll have that scribe's hide if he botches it again! I want a meeting with those Master Weaponsmiths and all their Journeymen at sundown - make it a meal. Oh yes, that reminds me; have HER shown to her chamber, bathed, dried, garbed, bound, and brought to me as soon as she's ready!>
Elceleth squirmed in her chains. Her master seemed quite put out, by his tone. Perhaps she had not pleased him with her exhibition. Was he going to beat her now? Lost in thought, she barely noticed as a group of servants unbound her; that is, until the slingotto Donto stroked her ear.
She had had enough! Being free of leg shackles, Elceleth brought all the power that an elven dancer could focus into a kick into the unguarded groin of her tormentor. Donto doubled over, as she knew he would, and she kicked him again, this time in the face. The fat human fell before her and proceeded to do what any proud human of Iborland woulddo; vomit from the pain. Elceleth did not struggle as she was rebound, lifted on a strong warrior's shoulder, and rushed into the castle.
Within an hour Elceleth was bought before her master, bound in leather shackles. Her arms were behind her, shackled at wrist and elbow, and her legs were bound at ankles and knees loosely enough that she could walk but could not run (or kick, she noted). She wore a white cord around her waist though which a piece of irridecsent fabric was passed to form a loin cloth which hung down to her knees in front and back; and a strip of the same material covered her breasts which crossed in front and tied behind her neck. This was more clothing than she had worn since her abduction, but somehow by its sexual design she felt that being naked would be more comforting.
Lord Corlon looked up from some papers that he was reading at his desk. His visage was terrible to behold. She knew that she was about to thrashed to within an inch of her life, for she knew she could not be lucky enough to die. "I understand we've had an incident, little one." His tone was quiet and controlled, yet she could see the anger in his eyes. "Donto will be here any time now. I will hear his story, then yours; then pass judgement, which I suspect will be unpleasant. You will not speak until Donto finished his testimony, and you will speak only in Iborian."
"Yes, my Lord-Master." she answered, quaking in fear, and stood there feeling suddenly smaller and more helpless that ever.
In a short time, Donto came in, not hiding the injury to his manhood very well. His cheek had already started to swell. His face showed his indignation and his want for revenge. Had Elceleth not been in fear of her life, she would have laughed at him. She wondered how a man as magnificant and impressessive as Lord Corlon and a miserable wretch of a male like Donto could be of the same race.
<This is a trial of wronging. I will hear both accounts and pass judgement. No other witnesses will be called.> stated Corlon, hiding his anger well. <Donto will be the first to speak. Begin.>
<Well, Lord, this elf tried to run away and I tried to stop her. She used some sort of evil elven magic to strike me down, but I delayed her long enough for your warriors to overwhelm her.> lied the despicable man.
<I see. Can you speculate why she chose this moment to escape, rather than trying while she was in the woods which she knew?" queried the Lord.
<Who can fathom the reasonings of elves, Lord? Perhaps she wished to sully your reputation by embarrassing you.>
<An interesting supposition. Thank you, Donto. Now little one, what is your story?>
Elceleth was seething at the slingotto's lies, but had not dared speak against her master's wishes. She calmed herself enough to speak. <He touched my ears, so I kicked him, twice. I would rather die then suffer his touch again.>
<Is that all you have to say?>
<Yes, Lord-Master.> <As you wish. Now since you are new to this place I will explain our system of justice. Since your testimony differs from Donto's, one of you must be lying, which is punishable be whipping. Normally I would call upon a truth spell to verify both of your testimonies, but Donto has been a trusted servant for years. It would be an insult for me to have to cast a spell upon him.>
Donto smiled the smile of a dog who had just gotten away with chewing his master's slippers. Elceleth slumped, wondering how a whip would feel burning into her body, and what kind of a scar it would leave.
<But I know something that neither of you knows. Little one, will you swear upon your soulname that what you have said is truth?>
<Yes, Ma...>
<Then do it!> he ordered.
<I swear by my soulname that all I have said to you is true.> she pledged solemnly, wondering how he knew about soulnames.
<She lies, Lord-Master! I never touched her!>
<You fool! You have hung yourself! An elf CANNOT lie upon a soulname oath! You have touched MY elf without MY leave!! What is worse, I specifically ordered that you NOT touch her! And worst of all, you have LIED - to ME!! Guard, get in here!> A soldier appeared through the door in an instant. <Take this scum out, and rip out his tongue for lying, chop off his hands for touching my consort, and slowly torture him to death for treason! Get him out of my sight, NOW!!!>
Donto's pitiful pleas for mercy faded away slowly as he was dragged away. Elceleth remained still as she watched Master Corlon compose himself. Finally, he spoke.
"You realize, of course, that under normal circumstances I would have to punish you for striking a male; but you had three thing in your favor." She looked at him quizzically. "First, you told the truth. Second, I was impressed that you could stagger that fool. Third, and perhaps most important, I wanted to reward you for you performance during the procession. But this matter is now over. You will continue your training, immediately. I'm going to introduce you to Slaloth. Come, little one."
"Yes, Lord Master." she said, wondering who Slaloth was and what to expect, as he took her lead and led her out of the chamber.

Copyright 1992 Pencildragon

Please don't send requests for reposts, missing parts, GIFs, FTP sites, etc. If you find getting stories from this newsgroup inconvenient, the archive is available on disk. Send a blank email to adultarc@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org for more information. Authors wishing to have files added to or removed from the THC Public archive should contact me at: tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org. Please refer comments to alt.sex.stories.d or to e-mail. Thank you.
-=( Tommy )=-

Path: gtr.hkt.net!cwix!cwix!cwix!feed1.news.erols.com!news.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!btnet!netcom.net.uk!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!mail2news.demon.co.uk!not-for-mail From: Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: "Elceleth" part 3 Date: Mon, 09 Dec 96 03:05:18 -0800 Lines: 226 Message-ID: <259959566@f26.n340.z1.ftn> X-Mail2News-User: Tommy%f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org X-Mail2News-Path: mail.spydernet.com!network);!hades.spydernet.com!arakis.spydernet.com!f13.n340.z1.fidonet.org!f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" <Tommy%f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org>

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The THC Adult Text Archive: ELCLETH3.TXT (210 lines) Please do not allow anyone under 18 to read the contents of this message. Note: I did not write any of these stories. They are being posted from the archive as a public service only - any copyrights belong to the authors. See the footer for important information.

Chapter 3

Elceleth's first thought was, "What am I doing in here?" Again she was naked, except that besides her collar she was wearing leather mitts that locked at each wrist, so that for all practical purposes she had no use of her hands. She was in an indoor arena with a floor of packed earth. The ground was warm, not quite to the point of discomfort, but she was already beginning to sweat.
Lord Corlon, Mistress Qantar, and a handful of servants were seated on a platform on top of the walled area. They were sipping wine and making polite conversation about their travels, taking little or no notice of her.
Being curious as well as confused, she noted the only feature in the walls of the stadium was a three foot high arch opposite from where her audience sat. Other than that, the walls were polished marble, too high for her to climb with the mitts on. Elceleth had been lowered into the arena by a ladder which was now far out of reach, behind the viewers. She remembered what Qantar had whispered in her ear while assisting her down the ladder.
"Fear not, and enjoy."
And so Elceleth stood there, waiting for anything to happen; feeling rather foolish, not knowing what to do. Who was this Slaloth person, and what was the purpose of meeting him, or her, or it, in this place? She looked up at her master again with perplexity, until she heard a noise behind her.
The noise was a quiet hiss. A human would not have heard it. In fact, had she been human, Elceleth would have been even more surprised than she was. Before her was a snake, a huge snake, as thick as her thigh and five times her length. While she had been looking up at Corlon it had snuck half the distance between the arch, which was just now beginning to be shut by a portcullis, and herself. Were it not so big and so near, she would have called it beautiful, with markings of light and deep browns on its long graceful body.
It hissed, louder this time, as if it was angry. Was that possible?
Corlon laughed, <What is wrong, Slaloth? Are the sharp ears of an elf too much a challenge for you? I'm afraid you'll just have you get her with skill instead of stealth.>
It hissed again. If a snake could curse, this one certainly would; and at Corlon, not her. Though confused by this, Elceleth's chief feeling was fear. She had never seen so big a serpent in her life. Has Corlon bartered for her captivity, only to feed her to his pet snake?
Now it circled her warily. She kept her eyes on the head, hoping that she could evade it. Slaloth seemed to smile with a perverse gleam in his (her?) eyes. Elceleth fell to the ground as a coil upset her footing. Slaloth tried to wrap a coil around her, but she was too fast, rolling back to her feet and jumping out of reach, again thanking her goddess for her dancer's nimbleness.
Again the snake hissed a curse, this time definitely directed toward her. It seemed to move more cautiously now, trying to measure her moves. Slaloth tried a feint, but now the elf was more aware of his tactics, and easily avoided his coils.
Elceleth was both fascinated and terrified. If this was a true snake, it must have been trained to fight sentients. If not, and this was the more frightening of the prospects, Slaloth had intellect to some degree. The more she avoided it, the more certain she was that Slaloth was the latter. She dodged for all she was worth, and found herself needing all her skill and quickness to avoid the coils she was sure would crush her to death.
Finally, fatigue took its toll, and Elceleth stumbled from weariness. Slaloth seized this opportunity and wrapped a quick coil around her waist and arms and wrestled her to the ground. Once it was certain it had a firm grip on her, it rolled her into its coils so that she was wrapped from ankle to shoulder in smooth serpent grip. Slaloth hissed triumphantly.
Yielding to the inevitable, Elceleth's tired mind became more analytical as she accepted the fact of her unavoidable death. She remembered what the master hunter of her village had told her about snakes; that the non-poisonous ones did not crush their prey, but rather asphyxiated it, constricting tighter and tighter on each exhale until the prey could not breath. And this is what it did, as she was breathing heavily from her exertion. Tighter and tighter it coiled, until she had to take quick shallow breaths to get any air at all. She found herself wishing that Slaloth would just constrict quickly and get it over with.
Yet the coils did not constrict any further. Instead they seemed to undulate down her body in an almost erotic fashion. To her dismay, it did feel pleasant. As it continued to literally massage her, it bent her over at the waist, and a few coils moved so as to expose her clitoris and buttocks.
Only when she felt the first flick of a forked tongue did she realize what was truly happening. This snake was raping her with deliberate and meticulous purpose! She tried to struggle, but could only barely squirm, and that ineffectually. She tried to scream her outrage and horror, but she couldn't get a fuledge that a reptile could bring her body to pleasure without her volition. She could not think of a single thing that could be worse.
Then, all at once she could, as Slaloth eased its thick tail into her vagina. Her body convulsed with both loathing and pleasure, as she presented her mid-day repast to the warm arena floor. And still the ophidean continued to massage her, and lick her, and rape her with its tail. Yet through the self-loathing and humiliation; and the snake was unwavering in its task; Elceleth began to convulse again, but this time in the throes of involuntary sexual climax, one orgasmic wave mounting on top of another; uncontrollably wondrous. Her body betrayed her, and Elceleth's will gave way to the need for release from her body, despite her fear and disgust. Then, after a final climactic wave, sweet oblivion took her.
She awoke alone, still laying naked on the packed earth. Her hair was matted, and her body stank of sweat from her exertion and the excretions from her loins; undeniable evidence that what she remembered through a haze of pain and disorientation had truly come to pass. She tried to move, but she was too tired; fatigued from her evasion and then her invasion at the hand (coils?) of the monstrous ophidean, Slaloth. She began to sob at the memory of the reptile's somehow sentient attentions. How could Corlon do this to her? This was worse than death. As her sobs quickly ran dry (for they took too much energy to maintain), she heard voices, but didn't bother to attempt the supreme effort it would have taken to open her eyes and lift her head to see who it was.
<It was enjoyable to watch the Master's pet at play, wasn't it?>
<Indeed. Although this new one isn't what I would call ...errr..>
<Filled out?>
<Yes. That's it. As I was saying, even though she isn't filled out she is quite agile, and possessing of a fiery spirit. Here, help me lift her. She looks so delicate. I don't want to break anything.>
<No problem. My, isn't she light though? But much in need of bathing.>
Elceleth felt herself being lifted over the shoulder of a male human body; she could tell this by the smell. She found it absurd that these unclean humans should comment on her own smell. They covered their dirt with perfumes, and called themselves clean. That was her last thought as the motion of the male walking made her pass out again.

Elceleth awoke in somewhat more comfort than she had been when the two servants had hauled her off, though she was still sore from her exertion. She lay a moment, then realized she was clean and perfumed. Opening her eyes, she found herself in the quarters where she had been initially taken after attacking the slingotto, Donto. She had been rushed though here so quickly that she hadn't had time to truly examine it before.
She was lying on a sturdily made heavy 4 poster bed against the far wall, on which there was a warm velvet quilt. The room was huge, larger than the tree hut she had lived in before her abduction. Pastel tapestries of rainbow colors were draped everywhere, obscuring the cold stone walls, and the floor was generously covered with rugs. In the center of the room were two stone pillars, which undoubtedly supported rooms above this one. To the far left of the bed was a sunken bathing pool with tiled area, as well as a desk with a mirror, which she supposed was for dressing and makeup.
She turned her attentions to herself. She was again wearing the loincloth and top she wore before her experience with Slaloth. She also wore golden manacles on her wrists and ankles, which were connected by fine golden chains. She rolled off the heavy framed 4 poster bed on which she had been laying, and stood up. A central chain fell from her collar to just below her groin. Each arm chain was attached to this at sternum level, with enough slack that she could raise her arms over her head with ease. Each leg chain was attached to the end of the central chain, and had slack enough so that the chains just brushed the ground when her feet were shoulder's width apart.
Elceleth was confused. What purpose were such light chains, which a full grown human male could break with ease, and gave her full mobility? But did they give her full mobility? The lithe elf proceeded to attempt her full morning regiment of stretches: something she'd not done since her abduction. An half an hour later she knew for certain: There was no stretch she could not do.
As she finished her stretches, she heard the door to her chamber open. When she saw that it was Corlon who entered, she slid out of the position she was in and rolled to her knees, presenting her arms to him, as she had been trained to do during the journey to Iborland.
Corlon smiled, saying "Arise, little one. I see that you have been experimenting with my new gift to you. How do you like them?"
"I am not certain I understand their function, Lord-Master. They do not seem to be particularly practical. Perhaps they are decorative?"
"They are dancing-chains." he chuckled "Their 'function' is to symbolize your possession by me, while allowing you to dance. Why don't you try them out, now?"
"This was not a request!" thought Elceleth, then replied "Yes, Master."
And so she began, a slow, graceful dance which eventually sped up to a reasonable pace. Four steps into the dance, she knew she was in trouble. The weight of the manacles and the motion of the chains was throwing off her movements. She felt like a clumsy novice, not the mistress of the art she was. Then the unthinkable happened; her foot got caught in one of the chains as she quickened her pace, and she fell gracelessly to the floor. For the first time in one hundred and fifty cycles of the seasons, she fell. Her eyes welled up in tears from embarrassment and disgrace.
Corlon frowned "That was very poor. I understand that this is your first attempt, but let me put this in perspective. In one month, I am holding court with a foreign king whom I am deciding whether to form an alliance with or to invade. You will dance at a feast in his honor, as a gift from me to him. You will be sequestered in this chamber. You will practice dancing in these chains, eat, bathe, groom, and sleep, to the exclusion of all other activities. In three weeks, my court musicians will join you to practice for two hours a day. If you are not the finest chain-dancer that has ever been, I will whip your body until the scars resembl the stripes of a Naldebbanian hunting cat. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Lord-Master," she wept, rising slowly to her feet, trembling. She knew he never bluffed, but this was the first time she had truly displeased him. She wasn't used to his anger being directed at her.
"Do you have any questions?"
"Two, Master. First, is there a tutor from whom I can learn some techniques?"
"No! I don't want an elven dancer dancing human chain-dances. You will have to invent your own."
"Yes, Master. Second, why did you 'introduce' me to the snake?"
Corlon's scowl melted into a sly smile. He chuckled again. "Ah, little one, I can never stay angry at you for long. You've surprised me again. I didn't expect that question. Very well. My purposes were multiple. First, I wanted to test your skill against his. Believe it or not, you evaded Slaloth longer than any other woman I've given him. Second, I wanted to let him know that though I had been away for a long time, I had not forgotten him. Third, I also wanted to watch him pleasure you. He is very skilled at what he does. I trust you enjoyed yourself?"
Elceleth squirmed uncomfortably at the reminder of the most recent betrayal by her body. Through the panic and terror, through the anger and outrage, her body had indeed enjoyed it. She hated herself for that.
"I want you to realize that this was a lesson; for you have now learned that you cannot resist either man or beast if that is my will. Remember that I gave you a fighting chance. Remember, too, that I expect your best in a fortnight." And with that, Corlon exited.
Elceleth wiped away her tears, and began to move around the room, testing the weight of her chains, and wondered what a Naldebbanian hunting cat looked like.

Copyright 1992, Pencildragon

Please don't send requests for reposts, missing parts, GIFs, FTP sites, etc. If you find getting stories from this newsgroup inconvenient, the archive is available on disk. Send a blank email to adultarc@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org for more information. Authors wishing to have files added to or removed from the THC Public archive should contact me at: tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org. Please refer comments to alt.sex.stories.d or to e-mail. Thank you.
-=( Tommy )=-

Last modified (12/24/96 14:10:31) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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