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Elceleth part 4
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 4
Elceleth stood before her lord and master, who in any second would
bid her to dance. She trembled in nervous anticipation with the knowledge
that no one had ever done what she was going to attempt.
For a full cycle of the moon she had practiced in the golden dancing
chains that she had worn for the entire time; learning their weight; their
feel; how they moved and flowed; until she and the chains were as one. For
the last week, the human musicians had come to her chamber and played their
human music while she attempted to put her elven dances, modified to account
for the chains, to them.
It hadn't gone well; the combination of the music and dance just
hadn't meshed. Finally, on the night before last, she couldn't stand the
frustration anymore and had shounted and swore at the musicians and sent
them away. That night she cried herself to sleep, knowing with certainty
that she would bear the scars of a beating from the heavy lash.
The next morning, she refused all food, choosing instead to meditate
on her predicament. AS usual, the musicians arrived after nightfall for the
final rehearsal. As they arrived, the troubled elf came up with a plan to
save her flawless hide. As she waited for Corlon's signal, she remembered
that conversation well.
<Sit down, and let's get to work!> she commanded them in their
humanish tongue.
<Lady-Dancer, you overstep your bounds. You are but a woman, even
if you are favored, and cannot speak to we men in such a manner.> This was
the harper, the leader of the musicians, named Lonarc.
<If Lord-Master Corlon is displeased with this performance, I will
not be the only one punished if he deems you at fault as well as me. I have
been ordered to be the best chain-dancer there has ever been. You have been
ordered to accompany me. Therefore, I claim my right to order you as I see
fit, so that my performance is within his expectations. If you wish to
dispute my right, take it up with the Lord-Master. Or better still,
challenge him for me. Do we have an understanding, Master-Harper?>
<Yes, Lady-Dancer. Shall we begin again with the Lord-Master's
favorite music?> said Lonarc, subdued.
<No. The difficulty is the music. It's all wrong for elven dances.
I need to hear the most alien sounding piece you know; as non-human sounding
as any you possibly can; and it must be sensual and seductive. Do you know
something like this?>
<I can't think of anything right now.> said the harpist.
<The Snake Worship Theme of the Dark Folk of the Steaming Forest>
suggested the drummer, Noremac.
Lonarc looked lost <I don't know that one.>
<No wonder. It's for reed, flute, and drum.> Noremac explained.
<Do any of of the rest of you know it?> queried Elceleth.
The flutist, Nusas, a large lipped beauty of a female and the only
woman among them, and Haras, the hollow cheeked male reedist with almost
elven fine fingers, nodded together.
<Then the rest of you get out. I don't need idle bodies distracting
me.>
Lonarc humphed as he exited, while the other musicians took it in
stride, well prepared to take advantage of an unexpected night off.
Once they were gone, Elceleth sat down cross-legged in front of the
trio. <Now that that's settled, let's get to work.>
And so the musicians played the piece, which took a good third of an
hour. While the music played, Elceleth listened with great intensity.
After they finished she told them that the Snake Theme was acceptable and
bade them to repeat it over and over again until the allotted rehersal time
was finished.
And play they did, four more times in all, and while they played the
elf sat and listened. The musicians were not used to such an attentive
audience, being unfamiliar with an elf in absolute concentration. She moved
not a muscle while they played, and they let themselves out when they were
done when she failed to acknowledge them. At dawn, she moved and smiled,
knowing that she had just averted a beating.
So here she stood, motionless; shaved, bathed, oiled, scented,
chained and garbed. Corlon gave his visitor a glance, raised his hand for
silence in the chamber, and bade her to dance.
The seductive strains began, and she danced. She had impressed the
very spirit of the theme into her soul; now all that had to be done was to
improvise a dance, which none but she knew was her greatest gift. The elf
took the chains, the music and her body, and using her gift forged them into
an instant product, a dance unlike any that had ever been seen before. She
was the dance, and so she took the music and made it hers. She used the
energy of her own nervousness, the energy of the nervous musicians who did
not know what to expect, and the anticipatory energy of her audience and
melded them into the dance. For this short time, she was the mistress, and
she held in thrall the entire room. For this brief instant, Corlon, this
foreign king, Qantar: everyone was hers to command. The Dance gave her this
power, and she reveled in it. When she finished, glowing with the sweat of
her exertion, she knew that this had been the finest dance she, or any elf
had ever danced.
The roar of applause hit her like a hammer in the face, like the sun
striking the eyes of one being brought out of dark cave. The sound was
painful to her ears, yet she reveled in the glory of it, and it helped break
her trance of concentration. Her mind began to wander as it relaxed with
her body. This feeling was wondrous, but the dance, the Dance; that was
life at its fullest! Never in her two centuries of experience has she felt
so alive as when she had danced that dance! She silently acknowledged to
herself that she never would have felt this if not for her abduction and
enslavement by Corlon. Her servitude as his consort, the threat of
punishment, the hard work under that threat were all paramount to the dance.
Without it, she was just another dancer. At that moment, she decided to
embrace fully her fate, to accept Corlon as her Lord and Master, so that he
might help her continue to experience the Dance. She barely noticed as
attendants led her from the room and back to her chamber.
Some hours later, she was awakened from sleep, unceremoniously
stripped and bound, spread eagled and suspended, between the twin pillars
of her sleep chamber. As she hung there helpless, Corlon and Qantar entered
the room. Elceleth smiled in love and pleasure at their approach.
"I see that my newest consort enjoys herself." said Corlon.
"Yes, my Lord and Master. For eveything that I have expeienced under
you, I will accept any price - you are my heart's Lord and Master, as well as
my body's!" Elceleth replied with ardor.
"In that case," Corlon smiled with victory, "let me administer to
you your just desserts. You have pleased me well this night, and though I
have decided to wage war on our guest, I will first take you as my true
consort."
The full realization of what he meant took Elceleth aback. In all
the months since her abduction, he had never personally made love to her in
any manner. The thought that he was taking his pleasure of her body only now
that she had accepted her fate moved her deeply.
"Qantar, prepare your sister consort for my attentions."
he instructed.
"With pleasure, my Lord-Master."
Qantar presented a leathered paddle, which she used with thorough
yet loving attention on the body of her lithe and vulnerably bound elven
sister. With each strike, Elceleth yiped quietly, remembering that this pain
would accentuate the pleasure to come. She almost luxuriated in the sharp
stings of the paddle. Once the elf was pink from shoulder to toe and up each
arm, Qantar laid the paddle down and took up a crop like those used in
horseriding by humans.
"I will be striking your face and ear tips, my sister. Keep your
eyes closed and try not to move your head too much."
Elceleth became quite nervous at hearing this, and shuddered
involuntarily. "I will try, s-sister." she replied.
With that, she closed her eyes and waited for the first strike. It
struck her cheek first, and was not what she expected. The strike was
feather light, just enough to cause the smallest of stings. Subsequent
strikes fell all over her neck, face, ears and scalp, leaving only her
eyelids and the center of her ears untouched.
Elceleth felt the heat of reddened skin all over her body as she
hung between the two pillars. Then she felt the touch that must be his, and
her eyes opened wide at the contrast of his soft touch and Qantar's crop and
paddle. This touch was a symphony of tactile skill. His first caress sent
a wave of pleasure through her that was nearly orgasmic. She had four
orgasms before he even entered her. When he finally chose to enter her, it
was ecstasy, and the little elf that was help so tightly yet tenderly was
filled so completely by him that she howled her pleasure for any who would
hear. The pleasure was so intense that 'orgasm' ceased to be an adequate
word to describe it.
When at last Corlon had had his pleasure and, after a final kiss,
had taken his leave, Qantar remained behind. She stroked the elf lightly as
she still hung suspended in her chamber. Elceleth was grateful that Qantar
had stayed behind, so that she would not be alone.
Later, after Qantar had freed her, they lay together in bed snuggling.
Qantar had put the much loved dancing chains back on her elven sister and
wrapped an arm around her, as the elf purred softly at her touch.
Qantar whispered in her ear, "Your dance was unlike anything I've
ever seen. Wondrous beyond words. I was told by Lonarc that you would never
succeed, just last night. That you had been nearly graceless the entire week
that you practiced together. Is this true?"
"Mm-hmm," Elceleth agreed with lassitude, curling her body closer to
Qantar's nude form.
"Then how ever did you do it?"
Elceleth smiled sleepily, "A little elven magic goes a long way."
She yawned a sort of exhausted-but-ever-so-happy-and-satisfied yawn, and
drifted off into slumber. Her last coherent thought was wondering if even
the musician knew that the Dark Folk of the Steaming Forest were elves.
Copyright 1992, Pencildragon
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