My Night and Next Day with Thranduil
|Part 3 / 4|
|Beta and Collaborator:||Malinorne|
|Disclaimer:||Just playing with Tolkien characters, for fun and not profit, do not claim to have created them.|
|Warnings:||NC-17, some mild S&M|
|Summary:||Mary does further research for a story she wants to write about King Thranduil.|
|Feedback:||Yes, please. Send it to: firstname.lastname@example.org|
Thranduil's unrelentingly demanding kisses were more potent than the champagne and brandy combined. Each time he drew back to let me breathe, my head would reel and spin. He had drawn my hand back into his lap, pressing it against himself while moving my fingers against the straining bulge beneath his leggings in slow, even strokes.
I wanted him to do so much more, on that big leather seat, than just kiss me, and use my hand to pleasure himself. But I felt powerless to ask for anything else, including mercy. When the car halted in front of the Hyatt Regency it seemed far too soon, or, just in the nick of time; I could not decide.
"I can have the driver take you back to the party," he said. "If you wish."
"No," I replied. "No, that's okay. I don't want to go back."
As the driver opened the door I felt suddenly shy about entering the hotel foyer in my jeans and tee-shirt. Thranduil offered his hand to assist me, but I hesitated. I just knew I was going to resemble a street-walker next to that elegant elf.
Thranduil's face hardened as he reached within the vehicle, took my hand, and, without actually pulling at me, somehow drew me out on the sidewalk. But, as I stood there covering myself with my arms, he took his travel bag from the driver, pulled out his robe and offered it to me.
I had to roll up the sleeves several times, but I liked that it was long enough to float quite regally behind me. It was made of some type of soft velvety suede dyed green; with leaves and vines stitched along the satin collar in silvery threads. I held it closed, to cover my "Haldir Lives!" tee-shirt slogan, and felt very elegant.
"Can you read my mind?" I asked. I was still having trouble catching my breath and balance, while he seemed to have smoothly switched gears from a lusty, devouring beast to a cool, courteous gentleman, with ease.
"Not as well as I would like," he replied with the tiniest sardonic smile tugging a corner of his mouth. "Yet," he added. He offered his elbow and patted my hand when I took it. "Do you think you look a little more presentable now that you are covered?"
"I think I look like a little girl wearing a man's bathrobe." He laughed as I looked down at myself; twisting and turning to see the robe from every angle. "My jeans are still showing."
"Do not worry, no one will notice your legs." He led me into the hotel.
As we entered the lobby I could not help but notice all the quick curious glances we received. It was so hard to keep a straight face. And he was right, no one looked at my legs or barely even at the rest of me; all eyes that dared to stare remained fixed on him as his commanding presence seemed to fill the entire room.
Hotel staff swarmed around us and we were led to a small bank of private elevators far removed from the view of the regular hotel guests. A half dozen voices wished him a nice evening as we entered within. He never spoke a single word.
"Do you come here often?" I asked.
"Never before today," he answered as he drew me close to him. He held me there with his arms around me until we reached his floor. I leaned my head on his rock hard chest and listened to the slow, steady beat of his heart; mine, on the other hand, was beginning to skip beats, it was racing so hard. For the first time that night I was alone with the Elf who I had been told was a cruel and villainous enslaver of mortal maids. But it was too late to turn back now.
The elevator door opened and we stepped directly into his suite. It was very modern and cold with black leather couches, chrome covered fixtures and glass-topped tables. Even with the thick robe over my tee-shirt I felt chilly and I hugged myself while he tossed his bag on a small table. He picked up what must have been a remote control device, because when he lifted it, and pushed buttons, some lights dimmed, others turned off completely, and, once again, the sound of music swirled around me.
I was hoping he would pick me up and carry me off to the nearest bed. Heck, I would have settled for one of those big, black leather couches. Let's face it, the floor would have been just fine.
"It's hideous, is it not?" He made a wide sweeping motion with his hand. "They call this a V.I.P. Suite, but it far more resembles one of my dungeons in Mirkwood than a comfortable lodging. There are innkeepers in Esgaroth who could give these people lessons." He offered me his hand. "Let us go outside; it will be warmer."
I let him lead me through sliding doors, which opened by themselves with a slight whispering sound, and out onto a large patio. There were torches around the edge of a shallow square reflecting pool nearby, which lit the area softly with a wavering golden tinge. The Texas air was warm and balmy, but a cool breeze made the torchlight dance and flicker.
He sat me down in a large rattan chair, then walked over to the outdoor bar to withdraw glasses and a bottle of what looked like wine. He uncorked it, poured us both a glass of rich ruby-red fluid, and said, as he handed me mine, "You have tasted Imladris wine and Lorien wine; now you will taste some fine Dorwinion vintage."
I had read about this stuff in 'The Hobbit', and how the elves that drank it got so inebriated they fell asleep. I sipped it carefully. The bouquet that rose from the glass could have made me drunk by itself. The large faceted gem on the king's ring sparkled in the torchlight as he raised his glass to his own lips. I was mesmerized by his grace and restrained power. I wondered why he had brought me there.
Thranduil sat on a low stone bench a short distance from my chair. "Are you going to interview me now?" he asked, "for your story?" He had such a poker face that it was impossible to tell if he was teasing me or not. I decided to play along. Of all the questions I thought I wanted to ask him, there was one that nagged me more than the rest.
"Okay, well, can you tell me why Haldir gave me permission to leave with you?" He remained silent. I waited. He said nothing.
"You must have said something to him," I added carefully. "Something to make him let you take me away from the party."
"Let me?" His voice was hard now. "Let? Me?" I felt my palms begin to sweat again. Not a good sign while conducting an interview.
"Nobody," Thranduil continued stonily, "much less a tree-dwelling Galadhrim from Lorien, ever lets, or does not let, me do anything that I have a mind to do." He lifted an eyebrow to puncuate his thought. I should have changed the subject, but I was dying to know what had happened.
"But he didn't seem to care anymore if I went off with you," I explained. "And he seemed really upset about it at first." I could not believe that the two of them had not had some kind of conversation behind that closed door. "So, I'm thinking you must have said something that changed his mind." It was only then that it occurred to me that perhaps starting out by discussing Haldir was not the best idea I ever had.
"I will tell you, but not now, what was discussed." He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes."Come over here." It was not a request. It was a command. My heart started pounding again after it had finally calmed down. But I went over there. He indicated the space beside him with a nod of his head.
I sat. I was sure he was going to start kissing me again like in the car and my hands began to shake a little. I felt like I was swimming within the borrowed robe as the fabric bunched up to gather at my chest and under my arms when I sat down. The wine in my glass had little waves and ripples across the surface; I did not dare raise it to my lips.
"You are warm now?" he asked while he took the wine glass from me and set it aside. Without waiting for me to answer, he parted the robe and drew it down over my shoulders to let it drape naturally at my elbows. He left it there and ran a finger over the words stitched across my tee-shirt before asking, "What do these words say?"
"You can't read this?"
"What need do I have to learn the alphabet of the Followers?" he replied. "It is bad enough having to speak the wretched tongue."
"It says," I answered slowly as I looked down and pretended to be reading it for, maybe, the first time. "Elves rule." My nipples were straining at the cloth after waking to his unexpected touch.
"Elves rule," he repeated slowly. I was so glad he could not read English. I did not want to talk about Haldir anymore. I did not want to talk about anything at that moment.
"It means," I began to explain, "that I think Elves are bet..." He stopped me there with a finger to my lips.
"It says, 'Haldir Lives,' does it not?" He ran his finger over the letters again, pausing at each word. "Why do you lie to me?" His voice calm and unconcerned.
"You just said that you couldn't..." I began.
"No," he interrupted. "I can not read it. Now, tell me why you lied." He gathered the robe tightly at my elbows with one hand, so that my arms were restrained. One more time his fingertip crossed the letters, only now he paused slightly after each one, and the skin below them seemed to ripple with pleasure and heat.
"I didn't want to hurt your feelings?" I tried. The robe tightened. "And I don't want to talk about Haldir," I added.
"What? How can that be?" he asked. "A moment ago he was all you could think about, was he not?" He had captured a stiffened nipple between his thumb and forefinger and held it, at first gently, but then began to add a little pressure, ever so slightly, while he twisted it slowly from side to side. I could feel perspiration dampen my upper lip and forehead as I struggled to overcome the waves of heat that poured up out of my chest. It made it very hard for me to answer.
"Thranduil, please, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry?" That was not the right answer. His fingers turned iron and pinched, hard. "Ouch!" I cried.
"I want you to tell me the truth, now." An unexpected lick of heat swept between my legs even as the sore nipple throbbed beneath his grip.
"I wanted you to kiss me! Ow! Not talk about my stupid shirt!" He stopped pinching.
"Very well." He released the robe and drew it down further to my lap so I could pull my arms from the sleeves. He handed me back my wine glass and I sipped at it gratefully. I was not shaking any more but my mouth felt very dry.
He was smiling, finally; his eyes picked up the torch light and seemed to glitter with self-satisfaction. I stopped breathing as he unfastened his tunic and pulled it off. Hello, creamy skin! The refracted light that bounced from the shimmering pool seemed to give his skin a pearly iridescent sheen. His lean, rippling musculature was softly defined and I wanted to run my hands all over him, but I felt restrained.
I thought about at least scooting over closer to him when he said, "Stand up." I stood up. The robe puddled at my feet. He held one of my hands and guided me over to face him where he sat, then drew me onto his lap to straddle him. He kept one hand on my bottom and pulled my face eye-to-eye with his other hand at the back of my head, his fingers wrapped tightly in my hair. He brought me within inches of his face and held me there. I had to drag my eyes away from his luscious mouth.
His own eyes bored into mine and I felt stark naked inside, as if every secret I had ever had was being examined. I slowly moved my hands up to his chest. His skin felt like satin stretched over marble under my fingers. And then I touched his hair. I love the way he wears it, unbraided, loose and flowing and I just let strands of it slip through my fingers as I pushed them into the shimmering silkiness and drew them back out again. His gaze remained unbroken.
"You look like you might bite me again," I said finally. I was hoping to at least make him change his expression but he did not bat an eyelash.
"Do you want me to bite you again?" He licked his lips as he drew the hair back from my neck and chills ran through me as his face drew close. "I think you have not been bitten enough," he whispered. He nuzzled my neck, and kissed it so gently that I thought I must have imagined what had happened in the car. The chills turned into shivers when he started nibbling, and I held my breath as I waited, but he did not bite. Instead his lips traveled back up over my chin to my cheek before finally covering mine.
I stopped thinking and let my hands wrap themselves more firmly in his hair while he slanted his mouth to kiss me even deeper, his tongue twisting and turning expertly against my own. His hand on my bottom moved up to my waist and his long fingers dipped inside my pants, slipped themselves tightly under the elastic of my underpants and found their way down over my bare bottom. That got my attention.
Gasping, I broke the kiss but he pulled my face close again to his, his eyes boring into mine, as his hand inside of my pants dipped down even lower and, before I was ready, one of those hard as iron fingers penetrated me. I tried in vain to escape the burning intrusion. My panties were pulled too tight as he explored within; the back of his hand shifting the stretched fabric to and fro.
"That hurts!" I whimpered. His face looked carved from solid marble while he silently watched my face. He ignored me and pushed his buried finger even further up inside. He slid his other hand down to my hip to keep me from raising up to lessen the inner pressure and I was completely pinned and at his mercy. "Oh, please stop, you're hurting me!" His eyes sharpened and his mouth tucked upward at the corners into a tight smile.
"I will stop when I am ready to stop," he informed me. He captured my mouth again with demanding lusty kisses that fought with the searing pain between my legs for my undivided attention. I had not let go of his hair and I felt as if I were holding on for dear life. His teeth would scrape over my lips and catch one to chew on, gently, while his hand beneath my pants continued its sweet torture.
Then something interesting happened. The burning pain began to subside and melt into a different kind of heat. I could feel the slickness now where his finger moved and turned within me. I stopped whimpering and began groaning.
I did not want him to stop anymore; I never wanted him to stop. As far as I was concerned he could keep doing this to me forever. The heat rose and I could not concentrate on his kisses anymore as I moaned helplessly, drowning in pleasure.
He stopped. His hand slid its way back out of my pants and he even tucked in my shirt before drawing me close to his chest. He let me lean against him for a little, and I gathered my wits while he stroked my hair and pressed his lips against my forehead.
"I told you I would stop when I was ready." His calm tone maddened me. He handed me my wine, again, and took up his own. "Now, stand up right here." I was still a little wobbly-kneed as I stood, and very frustrated. "Back up," he ordered.
I backed up and was having a hard time swallowing my wine. He had spread his knees apart and began unlacing his pants. His fingers moved slowly, his face remained still, and I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. He released himself from within his leggings and his marvelous length sprang out proudly to stand against his flat tummy. His eyes gleamed wickedly as he stroked himself while watching me.
"I would very much like to see you naked," he said. "Take your clothes off, now. Slowly."
After taking a deep breath, I sat my wine glass down by my feet before pulling my tee-shirt up and over my head. I stood for a moment and could feel my nipples begin to stiffen again from his regard. I kicked off my sandals and knocked over my glass. It did not break; but rolled slowly away for a short distance leaving a trail of crimson colored splashes before it stopped.
"Very nice," said the Elf-king. "Now the pants." He stopped touching himself and nonchalantly sipped his wine while his rigid member provided a major distraction as it seemed to quiver and jerk against the pearly skin of his lower abdomen.
I pulled my pants off slowly, as he had asked, and cursed myself for wearing them. There is no sexy way to get blue jeans off. When you have to stand up to do it. I had to hop a little on one leg to finally pull my legs free from them and kick them away. Sirens along the street below screamed by as I stood there waiting for his next command. He finished his own glass, set it aside and held out his hand to me.
"Now, come over here, hurry up." I hurried up. I slipped into the space between his spread legs. He took my hands in his, put them behind my back, and held them there with one hand in a shackling grip. Then he backed me out from between his legs and bent me over his knees.
"Do you know what the penalty is for lying to a king?" His voice was casual, matter-of-fact, and there was delight rippling through it. It took a moment for the shock of finding myself in such a position to wear off enough for me to panic. Squirming my way off of his lap quickly became hopeless. Screaming was pointless. I was too scared to cry but that was always an option. My wrists burned as I tried to break his grasp on them, his fingers seemed as hard as handcuffs must feel, but he simply tightened his grip, holding them so firmly against my lower back that I could do no more than wiggle helplessly.
His other hand was at my bottom and the flesh and muscles beneath the skin seemed to jump and ripple underneath his deceptively gentle touch. I had to keep biting my tongue to keep from saying the wrong thing, like, "You would not dare spank me!" since I knew he would dare; or, "Please let me go!" because it was obviously more pleasing for him to keep me right there where he had me.
"Such a pity it will be," he said without any pity in his voice at all, "to bruise such a pretty little bottom."
Bruise? OK, that did it; I was so out of there! There was no way I was going to take a bruised butt home for the twins to get all murderous over. I wriggled, kicked out, and twisted with a new fury while he chuckled at my pathetic attempts to free myself. I could feel his quivering hardness against my side and I just knew he was enjoying the way he was being manipulated by my struggles. I could feel my face grow hotter and hotter and I think there were some tears now, mostly from frustration and the embarrassment of finding myself in such a situation. Me and my big mouth.
But, all this time, while I fought to extricate myself, I felt the weirdest little thrills of anticipation and the flesh of my bottom seem to heat up as it waited for the first blow to descend. I was completely frantic as his chuckles grew in self-satisfied delight at my predicament and I think whatever shred of pride I had left finally reached out, grabbed me, and forced me to just calm down. I finally stopped fighting my fate. I could not stop the nervous twitches that rippled through my upper thighs, but otherwise I was still.
"Good," he said. His free hand began to arrange me for the inevitable penalty. He pulled my outstretched legs apart and then put his hand at the lowest part of my cheeks, the center of his palm pressed in slightly against the well-heated mound between them, and lifted his intended target higher. "Do not move," he warned.
He began trailing his fingers over my backside just lightly enough to tickle and make my goose bumpy skin quiver. He lifted his hand, finally, and I braced myself for a hard slap. And waited. But, instead, he slipped his hand between my legs and began caressing me there. He would stop, now and then, and let a broad fingertip slide between the nether lips to plunge deep within. The quivering of my upper thighs began to intensify and spread down to my knees and calves.
The caresses stopped and his hand became a firm little saddle between my spread legs, as, with one swift effortless motion, he lifted me up off of his lap to turn me to face him. I needed no encouragement to straddle him again. His eager member found me without any help, as if it had a will of its own, which I am sure it did, and he thrust himself into me while his hands slid up to my hips and pushed me downwards.
I was so ready. I bit my lip to keep from crying out with relief as his marble-hard scepter filled me to the brim lavishly. He held me there against him, his hands at my hip grinding me against his pubic bone for a few moments before he began to guide me up and down on that wide, smooth shaft. The stone bench was unforgiving under my knees but I ignored the discomfort as I lifted and lowered myself at his command.
His thumbs carved themselves firmly into my hip bones and the long fingers of his large hands gripped my bottom cheeks as he pumped up against me in counterpoint to the rhythm he had established for me. I clung to his neck with my arms around it and buried my face into the deliciously fragrant, flowing hair. His head dipped and I arched backwards when his hungry mouth found my breasts; his tongue and lips playing delicately with the stiff peaks. My knees banged more painfully against the hard stone bench I knelt on, as his upward thrusting hips lifted me higher and lowered me less gently.
Suddenly, he paused his thrusts and moved one of his hands down between my legs, parting the lips with his fingers, and began to work the little knot there with the base of his thick thumb. It pulsed and throbbed in response and I could feel the heat in my face and breasts begin to rise to a boiling temperature. He removed his hand. He pulled me up and off of him, then sat me on his knees. It was agony.
"Don't stop," I managed to gasp. "Oh, please, don't stop yet."
"You can not seem to make up your mind," he said in a voice far too calm for my quickly shattering nerves. "First you say stop; then you say don't. It is very confusing." I slipped my hand around the glistening shaft that sat so erect and tempting in front of me that I ached at the sight.
"Do you want me to say, 'please'; to beg you?" I pleaded. "What? Tell me?" I fondled him as seductively as I knew how, moving my hand slowly and firmly with a thumb pressed along the pulsing vein in the center of his slick member, but he removed my hand, took the other one as well, again, but, this time, he lifted them both up to rest behind my head, with my elbows pointed skyward, and left them there, never once taking his eyes away from mine.
I tried to scoot my bottom forward on his lap to press my overheated little self against him but he placed his hands at my waist to stop me. I groaned with frustration and unreleased passion as he took my chin in his hand and made me focus on his face. "Don't leave me like this," I begged, "please tell me what you want, whatever it is; I'll do what you want." I hated myself for sounding desperate, but I was, well, desperate!
"What I want you to do is realize that I am in control here," said the Elf-king. "Your pleasure is secondary to mine, that is all." Now I had the urge to bite him, hard, right on his nose if I could have gotten close enough. "You will be still and control yourself," he added.
"Yes, sir!" I hissed through tightly clenched teeth. I laced my fingers together tightly behind my head to keep them out of mischief and wondered what the penalty for biting the nose off of a king would be. The over-heated area between my legs was one throbbing miserable ache.
He laughed and something in its icy tone sent chills down my spine. "Be very still," he whispered. His hand was between my legs, his thumb deftly manipulating me again. But then he turned his hand knuckles up and pressed the great jewel set into the massive ring he wore against the sensitive tip of the pulsing nub, good and tight. "Be very, very still," he repeated.
The cold, hard little jolting shock made me cry out, but I stayed as still as a statue. Then he began bouncing me up and down on his legs, while keeping the gemstone in place, and the motion made the facets rub almost painfully against the sensitive, over-agitated button of flesh. It was a maddening sensation. An excruciatingly delicate torture. The high, skirling sound of a tenor saxophone drifted out of the open patio door and punctured what was left of my self control.
I came so hard and so furiously that I saw stars, a whole galaxy full, flashing and dancing before my eyes. I cried out wordlessly while my pelvis felt licked with flames. And then his hand, and the ring, were gone as he lifted me in order to enter me again. With firm, jerking thrusts he spilled himself within me, his proud leonine head tipped back as he roared out something that must have been Elvish, I did not understand a word.
He continued to mutter in Elvish as he tenderly kissed my neck, face and mouth. Finally, he pulled my arms down and wrapped them around him. I clung to him with my head on his chest while he stroked my back and thighs. We sat glued together for a small eternity. The sky grew pale. The sun would be up soon. The traffic noises from far below us began to increase in intensity. I wanted to stay there forever.
"I think it is time," said Thranduil gently. "Time to tell you what Haldir and I discussed about you."
"Haldir?" I asked. "Oh, right. Haldir."
To be continued......
Revised: April 8, 2003
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"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"