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Elceleth part 2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
ELCELETH
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
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