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2nd place in The Marchwarden's Choice competitive story challenge at Haldir Lovers, Spring 2005

An Eventful Evening


Author: Mary A
Beta: Malinornë
Cast: Thranduil and original characters.
Warnings: Rated hard R for adult het/con sex, graphic language, mild BDSM and kink, including the use of props.
Disclaimer: This is a work of amateur fan fiction written just for fun. No infringement is meant on the rights of JRR Tolkien or his estate.
Summary: Thranduil grants his wife an extraordinary privilege, but can she fulfill the necessary requirements?
Timeline: Sometime during the Third Age.
Genre: Romance, Thranduil-style.
Author's notes: Written for the Marchwarden's Choice fan fiction challenge 2005 at the Haldir Lovers Yahoo group. Dedicated to My Beta, Malinornë.



~ Prologue ~

"Love makes the wildest spirit tame and the tamest spirit wild"
--Alexis Delp

"Stand back!" cried the herald, although there were no other elves near the entrance to the royal wing of the Mirkwood palace, besides the silent sentinels at their usual posts. Nevertheless, it was the herald's duty to clear the corridor for his monarch, who was headed to his bedchamber, and he was determined to do his duty to the letter of the law. "Stand back, I say!" His cries echoed down the slightly curved passage. "Stand back for the king!"

Thranduil swept past and entered the sanctuary of his private suite, with his closest confidante beside him. The king was silent at first, as he stood in front of the fireplace. He searched through an assortment of his favorite gemstones that were scattered on the mantle. After choosing one, a grassy-green emerald, he hefted it in his palm, and then turned it this way and that to catch what little light there was in the room; its glittering faceted surface captivated him in some mysterious way. He smiled.

After a few moments of silent contemplation, during which he ignored his chief advisor, he at last put the jewel back on the mantle and turned around to continue the conversation that the two of them had been engaged in previously, and which had been interrupted by the screeching of the palace herald.

"As I was saying," Thranduil began, "to my way of thinking, the satisfaction of carnal appetites is as important a priority as eating or drinking. Furthermore, I believe that we ought to be allowed to satisfy such cravings with as little restraint or false modesty as we do the others. Would one choose to be fed the same dish for every meal if there was other food for offer? Or feel ashamed to be tempted by variety? Surely the palate would grow dull from unceasing monotony."

"But, my good and gracious king," answered his companion, "surely you are aware that your queen believes, even if you do not, that such crude and unrestrained activities are forbidden to the Firstborn."

"That is just the very reason," replied the shrewd Elvenking, "why I have decided to grant her the request of being provided with a similar adventure of her own, in turn, as shocking as that must sound to your ears. And I have no doubt that she will enjoy herself enough to soften her stubborn opinions on the matter."

"Most assuredly, my lord, I am shocked nearly speechless! Do you believe that your wife is capable of partaking in the same impossible arrangements such as those that you require to satisfy your peculiar cravings? In truth, I cannot be considered an impartial observer, but do you also honestly believe it possible for anyone to imitate you? Or duplicate your infallible nature in any way?"

Even though Thranduil smiled at the compliments, he was not shaken in his confidence that his plan would work. "Perhaps," he answered, "it is not wise to speculate over such meaningless matters as they become yet another delay of more important proceedings. Agreed?"

"How cleverly you evade the question, my lord. But yes, I do agree."

"Good, then it should prove to be an eventful evening," declared the Elvenking. And his eyes shone brightly with enthusiastic anticipation.


~ The Queen ~

"Who never doubted, never half believed. Where doubt is, there truth is - it is her shadow."
-- Ambrose Bierce

In the beginning, the queen had second thoughts. As soon as she was confronted with the unconventional role she had demanded to share, she was not as comfortable with it as she had hoped to be. In fact, she felt foolish. She struggled to hide her nervousness in front of the elf that she had chosen, although she was not sure why anymore, and who would now be her partner during her first foray into this previously unknown territory.

After all, if her husband was to always be allowed to have his way with the elleth of his choice, then she felt entitled to an equal arrangement. Other than her own lack of confidence, she had no legitimate complaint with the plan.

Accordingly, she decided that she may as well make the most of this unique experience, or so she told her captive audience of one, who knelt before her absolutely still. He had not moved since reciting his vows to perform for her tonight 'to the best of his ability' and she was trying not to doubt that he could ever live up to her expectations. And, for some reason, it was important to her that he knew her reason for agreeing to the sordid arrangement.

"I cannot say that I have never been tempted to participate this way in such... unconventional affairs, although I have resisted thus far," she said to the silent elf. "Even so, I believe that by demanding equal time I will no longer feel jealous of my husband's activities, when he indulges himself this way, during these occasional fugitive hours he demands that I allow to him. And I do fully understand his desire to escape the tedious obligations and decision-making responsibilities of the throne."

She paused, and then said, "But, after all, what is sauce for the king gander should be sauce for his queen goose as well, do you not agree, slave? You may answer."

"Why yes, my lady," said the elf, his deep voice steady and self-assured. "I do most certainly agree, and I am eager to serve you."

Rattled by his relaxed and untroubled tone, she asked, tersely, "You are not afraid?"

"I fear nothing, my queen." When he spoke, the queen could not help but notice the wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He did not take her seriously!

"What if I tell you that I intend to make you suffer?" The queen tried very hard to sound dangerous. "Would you feel afraid then?" She had been instructed by her husband to be strict and stern, which was not easy for her.

"He who fears that he will suffer," the elf before her answered mildly, with some amusement in his tone, "already suffers because of his fear." She had been warned not to tolerate insolence, but how was she supposed to know the difference between disrespect and self-confidence in the elf's behavior? Was he mocking her? Or was he truly as calm and unafraid of her as he appeared to be?

After taking a deep breath, the queen sat on the edge of the bed and commanded him to rise up from his knees, shed his clothes, and stand in front of her, close enough for her to touch him. When he had done so, she ordered him to turn around in a circle for her to see him from all sides, and she openly admired the way that he had been carefully prepared for her by her servants, under her supervision.

After being bathed, he had been lathered with the lightly scented skin balm that she had blended with her own hands for her husband. This gave the naked elf's smooth rippling muscles a vivid sheen in the red torch light, which both highlighted their definition and imparted an overall glow of healthy vitality to his lean body.

With a purposefully demanding tone, to disguise the emotions that the sight of his nakedness aroused in her, she bade him stand before her with his legs apart and to place his hands up and behind his head. She ran her eyes greedily over his perfect proportions as she informed him, her voice shaking just a little, to her annoyance, that he stood in what she considered the only correct position for him to take, whenever he was allowed off of his knees in her presence.

"You shall not," the queen instructed as she ran her fingers down his flat abdomen, "close your legs or in any way attempt to conceal this very impressive instrument from my view." When she made reference to it, her hand grasped the rigid staff of flesh, which stood proudly up-tilted against his belly. This elicited a startled jerk, and a little growl, from its owner. "Nor are you to hinder my touch," she added, and as menacingly as she could manage. "No matter how severe it is."

At first, although he remained quiet, he frowned, his forehead wrinkling, as if he was unhappy with her command, or uncomfortable with the idea of being thus commanded, and she wondered how truly willing he was to submit to her, as he had sworn to do. She reminded herself that it was the first time for him, too, even if he did not appear to be as anxious as she felt.

"You are stretching the limits of my patience," she warned as she tightened her purchase on his turgid member. "Do not think that because I have not corrected you, yet, that I somehow do not notice, or perhaps even condone, your persistently condescending tone and attitude." Holding the end of his length like a club, she chafed the pad of her thumb over the weeping tip, making him shudder.

"You can be replaced," she informed him. Warming up to her task when his face turned to stone at her words, she continued, "Easily replaced, too, and by at least a dozen others in these halls at my beck and call on a moment's notice." She snapped her fingers to show how quickly his replacement could happen. "Indeed," she went on to say, smugly, "while on my way here this very night, many among the high-born standing in the corridor indicated to me with their lusty glances that they would have gladly accompanied me into this chamber, and shown me due deference." She released her grip on him, crossed her arms, and stuck out her chin.

Like fleeting dark shadows, a series of emotions flickered through the elf's eyes as she spoke, first slightly puzzled, and then faintly irritated, to clearly vexed. Noticing this, she added, "Who is to say that I am stuck here with you? More than a few of the loyal subjects in this palace have vast experience in the arts of sexual pleasure, or so I have been told by many a giggling elf-maid. Do you doubt me? Speak."

"Not one other of the elves in these halls, save His Majesty the king, is worthy to kiss your feet, my queen." He spoke through clenched teeth, which delighted her.

"Ha! And you are? I think not. And I must say that your tone seems inappropriately familiar for one in your dubious position." She slipped off the bed while saying, "And you had better remove that sour look from your face and kneel before me, this instant!" She was relieved that he obeyed her without hesitation and she did not have to contend with any defiance.

Standing close to him, she wrapped one hand into his hair, and then pulled him forward roughly to press his face right up against her body. His scent filled her nostrils, which made her dizzy. With her other hand, she gathered her delicate nightdress in her fingers, slowly drawing it up and out of the way until she was bared from the waist down. It was time to give him a test.

"Can you tell what I want you to do?" She parted her legs and kept her garment lifted.

"Yes, my queen," he whispered. He began to plant warm wet kisses on her bared skin, as soon as she released her fingers from his hair, and his mouth steadily traveled lower. Finally, he had to put one of his hands, both of which he was supposed to keep behind his head, on the floor, in order to kiss and lick at her most sensitive parts without toppling over. She disregarded his lapse in obedience and widened her stance, pressing her pelvis forward, which forced him to reposition himself without losing contact with her.

"You could give the king lessons, slave," the queen was able to mutter, her voice heavy with gratitude, while she watched him. But she gasped when she felt him chuckling against the heated tingling flesh beneath his marvelous mouth. Grabbing his hair and yanking his head away and back, she forced him to look into her eyes.

"Did I give you permission to laugh, slave?" He met her level gaze.

"No, my queen," he replied. His eyes were shining with desire and his chin was wet with her juices. "Forgive me. Your sweet fragrance muddles my wits and your kind words caught me off-guard."

"Do you dare to think that your queen can not fully appreciate a quality performance when it is delivered?" He remained silent as she stepped away from him. At last, she realized, she was gaining the upper-hand over her own fears. "Now, one thing you must learn, and learn in a hurry," she said, "is that I do not want to have to do all of the thinking tonight. It is not my intention to mentor you along. It is your duty to please me, and that includes being as creative and imaginative as you can possibly be, and to think quickly, if you are able. Do you understand?"

"I do, my lady," he answered. And he stood up and approached her.


~ The King ~

"Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars."
--Christopher Marlowe

Thranduil feasted his eyes on the lovely elleth who trembled after she knelt before him on the hard stone floor, as he had bade her to do before he sat to enjoy the view. As he had instructed, her eyes were modestly cast down and her hands were clasped behind her back, with one arm looped around the other to enhance the display of her curvaceous body. Also, she dared not move or speak without his permission, or she would suffer unfortunate consequences.

He saw that she was breathing fast, as if excited instead of in despair over the dire misfortune of being in the royal chambers this evening as a delicacy to slake his lusty appetite. The elleth had been carefully prepared for him, bathed, oiled, perfumed, and dressed in a diaphanous gown that was no more than wisps of nearly transparent fabric, which floated from the low neckline over her otherwise nude body like a silver veil and slightly puddled on the floor at her knees. Leaving her arms completely bare, the garment revealed more of the rest of her body than it actually covered.

Thranduil was naked, but without his command she dared not raise her eyes to look at his body any higher than above the ankle.

"And I know very well that you want to look at me," he said with supreme self-confidence. He stood up and drew near her. Gently, he patted her head. "But for now you must keep your eyes to the floor and only imagine what has been so carefully made ready for you. Can you get by?"

"Yes, my lord," she murmured serenely. Thranduil circled her slowly, drinking in the sight of this enchantingly beautiful object of his unwholesome desires, and then stood in front of her, while he lifted a hand to his chin in contemplation. He narrowed his eyes, although she could not see his face, as he regarded her.

"How many, I wonder," he asked, his voice lethal, "saw you display yourself while you were traipsing about my halls wearing this flimsy excuse for a garment?" He reached down and plucked at the front of her shimmering frock, causing it to flutter up, and float, before it settled down even more enticingly upon her curves.

"Not that many," she answered. He traced his finger over the curve of her jaw down to her chin, and then over her soft pink lips, pulling the lower one to the side.

"And, I suspect," he said, "that you reveled in the opportunity to flaunt that delectable bare skin for those who did see you. A heady experience, it must have been, to have an audience for your charms such as the high-born who inhabit my halls." He spoke as if daring her to contradict him, but she remained silent, her thoughts hidden.

Her modest obedience was not enough for him, however, not tonight. Accordingly, the king stepped away from her and withdrew a lace-edged handkerchief from beneath one of the pillows on the massive bed. He returned, holding it low enough to be clearly seen by her downcast eyes, and explained that he intended to blindfold her with it.

"I want you to remain unaware of what I have planned for my amusement this evening." His velvet-smooth voice was husky with lust and filled with deadly promise. "I wish for everything to catch you unaware."

He crouched behind her and caressed her for a while through the silky fabric of her garment. After backing away, he nudged her knees apart and lifted her garment up to tuck the hem of it between her clasped hands. Holding the handkerchief so that it draped over the exposed cleft of her tilted bottom, and after reaching around with his other hand to catch the dangling edge of it, he drew the piece of laced-edge cloth slowly up between her legs, while she emitted a sharp hissing sound in response.

Finally he tied it around her face, not too tight, just enough to keep it in place, he told her, while he had his way with her. To ease any fear she may have felt, for he was not completely heartless, he assured her that, if need be, she would be able to quickly and easily lift the blindfold away from her eyes. He made her tilt her head back to make sure that she could not cheat by peeking out from beneath it.

Instead of standing up after he was done, he remained squatted down behind her, pressing his erect member against the small of her back while he reached around her to slip his hands underneath the flimsy fabric that covered her perfectly formed breasts, in order to better fondle them. He cupped and lifted them with his palms while his long fingers pressed into the soft pliant flesh or rubbed briskly over the soft nipples, until they hardened into taut peaks. She tilted her head back to lean her face against his shoulder, emitting appreciative coos of pleasure.

"The exclusive possession of these sumptuous delights is worth any cost," he confessed, and he ripped most of the flimsy gown off of her, leaving a few tattered shreds at her neckline. "I would prefer to be their rightful owner than to know I must share them with any other. It makes my blood boil to think of any other's hands on you like this." She sighed, and he knew that this particular sentiment was familiar to her ears, for he had voiced it to her in the past.

"Enough pampering," he whispered right next to her ear, holding his lips close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath, and was glad to feel her shiver. Whether she felt anticipation or fear, excitement or dread, he could not tell.

"Nor do I care," he said out loud, as he shifted from his crouching stance and knelt down on one bent leg for more stability. This allowed him to press his erection even more firmly against her backside, sliding it back and forth between the valley formed between her bare bottom cheeks, while he squeezed her breasts and firmly pinched the tender nipples. "As long as you feel something, I am happy. And now, I want you to stand. I want to feast my eyes on all of you."


~ The Queen ~

"... See there's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo. It's the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me."
-- Gretchen Kemp

"I am not sure why," said the queen to the elf standing before her, "but I will forgive your lack of humility and obeisance, this one time. Despite your natural talent, I forget that you are only a novice at serving your higher-ups, more's the pity for me."

The queen saw confusion in the elf's eyes, and wondered if he was feeling at least a little worried that she might send him away from the bedchamber, after all, as a punishment. His towering height was more than a little intimidating when he stood close to her, and she became nervous once more. To compensate, she berated him, hoping to erase the smug look from his otherwise stunning face.

"And to think," she said, "that tonight my husband has at his disposal one of the most knowledgeable and skilled ellith to be found in the entire Greenwood, nay, on either side of the Misty Mountains, even to the Grey Havens." Her voice grew bitter as she thought about it. "Indeed," she continued, "since the days of Doriath's great glory there has been none as artful or accomplished as she is purported to be, while I have to cope with you, an insignificant amateur, who has almost as respectful a temperament as an orc from the windswept, barren grounds of Dagorlad."

She spat out the last few words and the elf reacted as if her insult had slapped him in the face. Good, she thought. Maybe he would abandon his presumptuous air and show more meekness in his behavior.

"Forgive me, highness, my shortcomings are many," he uttered. "I will try to improve." But his last drawled words sounded insincere and she could detect a tinge, beneath his feigned humility, of something more brittle; like wounded pride. She suddenly found it exciting, the idea of taming this elf, and started to understand why her husband had suggested that she might enjoy this amusement.

"Be careful of the tone that you use to address me, slave," she purred as she stroked his chin, letting her fingers trace down his neck to his chest. "If I was not in such a forgiving mood tonight, I would chastise you for the insolence in your voice. You have truly almost crossed the line, but you are yet in training, and I take into account that you did volunteer freely for this duty."

With genuine sympathy she added softly, "I understand how difficult it must be for you. Now be more careful, and keep in mind your vows to please me in every way possible." She continued trailing her finger down his body, pausing at his navel, which she tickled.

"Yes, my queen." He flinched a bit, but managed to keep his voice steady.

"You do flaunt your weapon quite arrogantly." Her slim hand once again seized his erect member, and she teased the tiny opening with a fingernail, making him catch his breath, while she said, "Gil-Galad's spear would wilt with envy at the sight." Even in the torchlight she could see how the head was an angry reddened shade and she could feel the vein underneath pulsating, while drops of fluid collected at the tip.

"Oh, but you appear to be in some distress." Her voice was dripping with mock-sympathy. "Perhaps," she asked, "I can provide assistance?" She moved her hand up and down his wide ropy-veined lance. His grunting moans encouraged her to stroke him even more vigorously. Under her sensitive fingers she could feel the surges of his arousal traveling beneath the rock-hard flesh.

When he tilted his head back, and bit his lower lip, she knew he was on the verge of finding relief. Before she would allow him to spend himself without her consent, however, she stopped, and gripped the base of the blunt head firmly between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand.

"Not yet." She grinned as his eyes drew into slits and his breath came in short, shallow pants while he coped with his unreleased passion. "Very good," she praised him when he was finally calmer and quiet.

"Do you know what I have always wondered about?" She slowly released her stalling grip, "That rule? You know the one that I am referring to, do you not? It is only by way of pain that one arrives at pleasure?" While she talked to him, she pulled her finger down along the top of one large vein, a streak of color on his fair-skinned hardness, all the way down to the root and lower.

"What I wonder is, whose pleasure is referred to by that, the one who suffers pain or the one who inflicts it? What do you think?" Her fingers cupped the velvety sack that dangled below his ardent fleshy scepter. "Although with a healthy and strong-willed specimen such as you, it would probably take extreme pain before there could be any noticeable pleasure for either of us."

"What... do you mean?" There was a catch in his breath and he flinched slightly, when he asked, as she had clenched her fingers a bit more tightly around his scrotum. And there was a tinge of trepidation in his voice.

"Well, well, I can tell that you do not like hearing threats made against your person and I do not blame you, it is a most magnificent person. However, you are not free to choose anymore, are you? And I feel it is only fair to warn you that if you resist against my attempts to find this extreme pleasure, for both of us, then I will have to punish you, like a mother would her naughty elfling boy." She slid her free hand over his firm buttocks. "Does my proud and worthy slave require a demonstration?"

"No, my queen," he assured her quickly, "I need no demonstration, and I will... not resist you." His words were tight with stifled emotion. She laughed softly as she stroked his muscled backside, watching with interest as his flesh there quivered slightly at her touch.

"Naturally," she mused aloud, "I dare not try to use my hand to chastise such a hard physique or else my fingers would suffer the graver injury. I mean that is just common sense." The queen's hand on his posterior paused, as if her thoughts were too occupied elsewhere, while she was trying to decide what to do, for her to concentrate adequately on her caresses.

"Ah ha, I have it!" The queen's voice was triumphant. "I could use the flat part of my husband's largest sword to smack you with." She lifted the hand from his buttocks and slapped him there, to demonstrate the placement she planned.

A sharp choking sound of indrawn breath was the only reaction he made, but it was enough to spur her on. "Oh, do not worry, my pet, I would be very careful not to slice into your skin with the blade, for fear you would make a mess on the floor with your blood." While she spoke, her smacking hand traveled lower between his supple bottom cheeks and she found the puckered opening with her curious fingers while, at the same time, her other hand clutched at the thin-skinned pouch slung beneath his hard shaft with a bit more pressure.

"As you wish, my lady," her slave muttered through nearly closed lips. She continued the intimate exploration on the back passage between his clenching bottom cheeks. Her insinuating touch, on the vulnerable skin at the edge of his hidden entrance, was causing her slave to tense up, but she did not care.

"However," she said, "There are some things that you have to accept." His breathing became shorter and labored as she continued to prod at the sensitive opening while she spoke. "Things you do not want to know but have to learn." At her last words, she did penetrate him, being careful not to poke the delicate inner flesh with her fingernail. Simultaneously, with her other hand, she let go of the velvety sack and instead seized his upstanding weapon again. She smiled with gratification at the guttural grunting sounds he emitted as she played with him.

"What you most need to learn," she continued calmly, as if nothing untoward was happening, "is that there is only one way to happiness, my beautiful slave, and that is to cease worrying about anything which is beyond the power of your will." Oh so slowly, she felt him begin to relax and stop resisting her. Standing on her toes, she kissed his full lower lip to reward him, darting her tongue mischievously over it as if daring him to trap it with his own, and then breaking away when he tried.

"Do you perhaps regret your impetuous decision to give yourself over to your queen tonight? I give you permission to speak freely, slave." But he could only moan for a while, as she pushed her exploring fingertip deeper within him.


~ The King ~

"The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it...you and you alone make me feel that I am alive..."
--George Moore

"Do you want to know why I treasure my time with you like this?" As he asked, Thranduil posed the elleth with her hands clasped behind her head. "I do not have to ponder on the mystifying nature of fragile female emotions while I merely take from you what I desire."

Without another word being said, he stood behind her and slipped one hand around her waist, down her belly, and then between her legs. With three fingers held together rigid and straight to make a narrow saddle, he pressed them upward against the damp mound, causing her to rise up on her toes.

After she was lifted as far as she could go, and yet remain steady, he ordered her to hold that position. Her calf muscles were stretched and taut and he nudged a knee between her parted thighs, forcing her to shift her overextended legs even farther apart.

"You are as juicy as a ripe melon," the king uttered hoarsely while his fingers leisurely explored the slippery folds between her trembling legs. He lifted his hand away, licked the wetness off of them, and stated, "And you are just as sweet." He grabbed at the damp curls that covered her heated mound and yanked, but not too hard, a few times. She shivered all over now from the effort of holding herself steadily on her toes and let out little sharp yips with each tug.

Finally, after releasing his grip on the thoroughly drenched curls of her nether hair, he gently kneaded and patted the sore places that lay beneath, alternating between the two methods, as if to soothe the pain he had caused there.

His charming victim grew noticeably more aroused by this novel way of easing her discomfort. When he quickened the pace, pressure, and accuracy of the pats, each sounded wetter and wetter, while her whimpers became urgent cries. He would stop patting only to massage the slick areas with the firm pads of his fingers, every so often dragging them up and over the tender nubbin that was so cleverly hidden beneath its tiny hood, which made her yelp and twitch her hips each time.

When he abruptly ceased his caresses, and withdrew his hand from her, she sobbed without words and even visibly pouted, to protest being left in such a frustrated state. He stroked her everywhere now, except where he knew that she most wanted to feel his hands, and chuckled at her obvious distress before he spoke. "I intend to keep you as close to the edge as I am able to without driving you over it; now let me see your smile."

Grabbing her chin in one hand, while pressing himself full length against her from behind and embracing her tightly with his other arm, he turned her face to his and kissed her passionately again and again, ravishing her mouth with his tongue, until he felt that her knees were growing weak and beginning to buckle.

"Stand up straight," he reminded her, sliding his hand back between her legs to lift her to her toes again. He enjoyed having her slender body at his mercy like this, perfectly balanced on the tips of his fingers. The hairs around her forehead and the skin on her upper lip were dotted with beads of perspiration, which were the only signs that she suffered at all while he held her in such an uncomfortable position.

Keeping his hand in place, he shifted her so that he could see her from the side, and relished the view of her graceful figure in profile as she stood on her toes before him. Her panting breaths and subdued sobs had subsided, and she was silent again, although she still trembled delightfully. Her pert breasts jiggled, inviting him to seize them and lock his mouth one last time against their tempting rosy tips, before moving on to the next step.

With his other arm around her waist, he lifted her up from the floor with the hand pressed between her legs and placed her to kneel on the bed, her bottom high in the air. The sight of her evoked a low throaty laugh.

"O, what a thrilling and thoroughly undignified picture you make in this position," he told her. "I should treat myself to you in this fashion more often, wench; it is such a delight to be able to take what I want without care." He fondled her backside down to her hips, letting his hands travel lightly over her flawless fair skin, raising gooseflesh.

"There is no more lively sensation than that of pain," he pleasantly informed her. "Its impressions are certain and always dependable, they never deceive as might those of the pleasure that some ellith are known to perpetually feign and almost never experience." He moved his hand between her spread thighs from behind this time and inserted his first finger deeply inside of her, pushing up to lift her pelvis higher. "And this evening I intend to have the lion's share of the pleasure."

He could not tell if her moans were fear-filled or lusty, so he assumed they were a mixture of both. "Before we proceed any further," he said, "I want you to recite your vows to me, or did you think that I forgot?" He removed the finger from inside of her and delivered a firm slap to her upturned bottom, while he ordered, "Now!"

"I am your slave tonight, my lord, for all intents and purposes," she replied hoarsely as he skewered her with two of his rigid fingers, "and I vow to serve you to the best of my ability." She paused, licked her dry lips, and rushed now, "I surrender my mind and my feelings are yours to enjoy, my pleasure and my pain..." With a slight gasp, she paused again when he slipped his fingers out of her and pressed them firmly against the throbbing pearl of flesh that he could feel protruding from its hood, as if seeking his touch.

"Continue," he prompted gently, although he did not move his fingers, except to shift the pressure from time to time.

"I offer myself knowingly..." She panted a little as she recited the vow, hesitating now and then as if trying to remember the words, her voice strained with effort, "and I, oh, willingly... submit myself fully... to, ah, all of your desires. From this moment on," she finished, her voice breathless now, "my fate is in your hands."

Satisfied with her oath, Thranduil removed his fingers from the agitated nubbin and petted her bottom.

"Very good," he said. "Now we will begin."


~ The Queen ~

"Suffering, once accepted, loses its edge, for the terror of it lessens, and what remains is generally far more manageable than we had imagined."
-- Lesley Hazelton

"Certainly, you do not regard being restrained in this fashion offensive?" After ordering the elf to lie down on his back, and stretch his legs apart, she had attached his feet to the bedposts, using slip knotted bindings, the way her husband had taught her to do. "You may answer."

"If it pleases you, my queen," he replied good-humouredly, "then what choice do I have but to capitulate humbly?"

"How unlike the king you behave," she remarked as she prepared him, "but I am enjoying the difference." Next, she secured his arms over his head, again using just enough tightness on his bonds to keep him immobile, but not enough to harm his wrists.

She straddled him, sitting right on top of his lower abdomen, ignoring his distressed masculine parts for the moment. Leaning over, she held her face close to his, rubbing her cool cheek against his hot one and then lightly brushing her lips against his mouth before lifting up and away when he tried to kiss her. She had a handkerchief in her hands, which she proceeded to put over his mouth, tying it behind his head, to prevent any back-talk retorts, she explained. "Or pleas for clemency," she added. Once she had this final restraint in place, she sat back and admired the results.

"At first, I must admit," she said, "I saw little chance of deriving any benefit from being in command of such an unskilled specimen of elf-flesh. I do not exaggerate how uncomfortable I felt with what seemed a lost cause, an impractical idea, not to mention a theft of my valuable time. However, your inexpert but conscientious efforts to please me have proved surprisingly refreshing. And now, I feel regret when I think of all the years I wasted denying myself this role, which I find an unexpected outcome of our time together, to be sure."

As she perched atop his elegantly formed torso, she absentmindedly played with his flat nipples, making them harden into hard nuggets. She tweaked and flicked at them as she spoke, causing his chest muscles to twitch and ripple in a fascinating way.

"A little fire in the spirit is nice, however, so you should not be afraid to show some once in a while. On the other hand," she confided, "an uncontrolled blazing temperament, although handy in a fight with the occasional minion of the dark lord, is not always best in lovemaking, and like a broken arrow in a hunter's bow, will oft miss its mark. Such an inner fire must be cultivated carefully, subdued, redirected, and only used sparingly... for effect." She smiled at the bemusement in his eyes.

"The king, before he was king, or even thought that he could be a king, was a moody and difficult young lord, as even he would admit, could he speak for himself," she said, feeling the need to talk, now that she would not have to put up with any more flippant replies. "He had a hair-trigger temper even then. But, do you know, when I first saw him, I fell in love? Although the initial infatuation I had was more akin to hero worship, than affection."

"Do you want to know a secret?" The queen asked, leaning close again. "You must promise never to say that I told you." She laid down on him and folded her arms on his chest, propping her chin on the top one. The elf beneath her cocked his head to the side inquisitively, and nodded.

"Before our first meeting, while we both lived in Lothlórien, I learned something that no one else knew," she said in a reminiscent tone. "On the eve that my sisters and I had arrived back, after visiting with the peredhel Elrond, in Imladris, we were invited to have our first peek into Galadriel's mirror. I saw a vision that made my heart stand still." She sat up again, and leaning back, while holding herself up with her hands on his outstretched thighs, she stared off into space, remembering.

"'Who is he?' I asked. 'That, my lovely maid,' the Lady Galadriel said to me, 'is Thranduil Oropherion, a young lord of the Teleri, a nephew of Celeborn, and a refugee of Lindon, who has come here with his father to live with us, for a time.' And do you know what I saw depicted in that vision?" She fixed her gaze on him again.

Her silent audience shook his head, but his eyes were steady and calm, as if absorbed by her tale. "I saw a formidable warrior king," she told him, and her voice contained the awe she had felt at the time. "He was potent with power, his gaze was keen and bright, and he was seated upon a high throne, with a crown of leaves and berries upon his stern brow. His noble face was framed by a mane of hair that shimmered like spun gold at his slightest motion." The bound elf's eyes widened with surprise at hearing this unexpected confession from his queen.

"And, do you know, even though I saw that vision of his eventual glory, I did not make his courtship easy," she continued. "There were many unexpected obstacles he had to hurdle to win my hand, if only for the amusement it gave me to see this elf that I chose to bond with, even though he was not aware of it yet, engaged in competition."

She chuckled with amusement as she described the other elves that had courted her at the same time, but had never stood a chance. Talking about her youth, and those bygone days when she was a handmaid to the Lady Galadriel, and the king was only a lonely, alienated elf for her to pursue, was making her feel excited and energized. She was ready to take advantage of the helpless position she had put her slave into.

"Your task now," she said, "is to remain in control of your urges while I enjoy myself with you. Whatever reward you might earn for accomplishing this task will have to follow later, after I have had my turn." Raising herself up off of his torso, she reached down and briefly fondled his marble-hard appendage, before guiding it to just within her folds. Slowly, but steadily, she sheathed his entire length inside of her, until she was filled to the brim.

"Ah, ah, how lavishly you endow your queen," the queen gasped as her hungry nether lips feasted on his hardness. Lifting and lowering herself on his length, she giggled over the way he would react when she paused, at times, to grip him from inside. "Verily," she murmured, "you prove a sturdy stallion for me to ride."

As the queen bounced with increasing vigor, her breasts did too, and she was amused watching the elf's attempt to follow their swaying tips up and down with his eyes. Finally, she could not focus on anything besides her own mounting surges of arousal, and she could only moan when each successive wave drove her to stay still and grind herself against his pubic bone.

Just in time, she recognized the signs of her partner's prematurely imminent eruption from the way his heaving breaths were beginning to crescendo to a fevered pitch. The muscles in his straining neck resembled thick cords.

Regretfully, she pulled herself off of his still unrelieved erection, before he could reach the point of no return. She sat beside him, holding his throbbing member tightly at the head, as she had done before, to stop his climax.

"I thought I told you," the frustrated queen finally managed to say, when she had cooled down enough to speak, "that you were to follow after me." She had to forgive him; she had not made it an easy test. And accordingly, when she thought it was safe to remove her grip, she bent to lightly kiss and congratulate his valiant member for its amazing ability to remain so gallantly on duty for most of her demanding exercise.

Rising from the bed, she crossed the room to the sideboard beside the fireplace, and poured herself some wine from a decanter sitting there. She carried the goblet back to the bedside, and stood, sipping from it, while she contemplated the bound and muted elf. After setting the wine down on a nearby table, she climbed back on the bed and removed the bindings, leaving the one around his mouth for last.


~ The King ~

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable."
--Joseph Addison

Now Thranduil turned the elleth over to lie flat on her back and affixed her spread legs to the bedposts, binding them in place with slip-knots around her ankles that were just tight enough to keep her still, but not harmfully so.

"I do hope that my queen is being entertained tonight as thoroughly as I intend to be," he remarked while he examined the blindfold to make sure it was secured into place. He added, mumbling more to himself than speaking to her, "Considering the impetuous nature of her partner, I half doubt it."

Instead of restraining her hands, he commanded her to put them behind her head, with the fingers laced together, and he warned her to keep them there and not move them in an effort to interfere with his play.

"There is not enough light in here," the Elvenking stated while holding the flame of the taper that he had picked up from beside the bed right next to her face, in order that she could feel its heat. He moved the candle away and bent to capture her lips in a kiss, crushing his mouth against hers, his tongue thrusting deeply, and then pulled away to the sound of her disappointed sighs.

"This is quite a predicament you have yourself in, my comely maid," he remarked as he tipped the candle slightly and let the wax drip over her breasts. She gasped, shocked at the unexpected sensation of liquefied heat. But he held the taper at a great height from her body so that, by the time the drippings reached her skin, they were cooled as they fell through the air, and were not scalding enough to cause any injury.

Irregardless, after brushing the hardened bits away, he comforted the places on her breasts where they had splattered, with his mouth. He salved the pert cushions of flesh with his tongue, and then amused himself by rigorously suckling at one rubbery nipple, and then the other, drawing them deep within his lips and tugging at them until she was forced to arch her back upwards.

When he finally was satisfied with his efforts, he sat up straight and contemplated her, one thumb casually teasing a taut, wet nipple while he looked down at her.

"I wonder what would happen if I held the flame of this candle right up against your tender skin?" He tweaked the nipple he had been thumbing, as if that was his chosen target. Although he could not see her eyes, he could tell by the way she drew her lips tight that he had frightened her with his question. "It is something I have often thought about," he continued. "Perhaps I will do it tonight, as a special treat for both of us."

Her anguished groans were answer enough, but he prolonged the suspense a bit longer and dripped wax again, this time on her thighs, dribbling it over them. He moved the candle higher, so the searing spatters reached almost to the nest of dampened curled hair between her spread legs. He congratulated her on her ability to remain still.

Again he dripped more, only this time on her smooth, flat tummy, leaving a trail of spatters to the edge of her mound. "Perhaps if I held the flame against one of your breasts," he said thoughtfully, "and pulled it away swiftly, you see, just enough to burn it quickly, there," he pinched the nipple, making her jump, "it is likely that you would not suffer much, no?"

She shook her head rapidly from side to side, as if too afraid to speak out loud. "Do you forget so soon your sworn oath to serve me in any fashion I desire, slave?" Her head stopped shaking but her chest was heaving with panic.

"Yes, my winsome lamb," he reminded, "the ultimate surrender of your will is the only mission you are assigned, and you know that it is not that difficult. It is your duty to submit to my desires, and within that surrender you will find your only freedom this night."

As he spoke, Thranduil parted the elleth's quivering nether lips, and passed the candle over them, the hot drips of wax spattered down on the dusky inner folds. With a startled cry, she pulled her legs at their bonds and tried in vain to shift her hips in an effort to escape.

"Now, now, that did not even raise a blister." Gently, he pulled away any wax that had landed on the damp hair before it could harden, and then soothed the entire area with light strokes. She no longer fought against her bondage, but lay perfectly still, after he drew his finger higher to delicately manipulate the swollen button of flesh that peeked out temptingly from its hiding place among the damp curls, enkindling a different sort of heat within her, which was made apparent by her soft mewling.

"Does it still hurt?" His question went unanswered for several moments as he continued to work the swelling pearl. "I asked you a question," he said.

"No, my lord," she managed to gasp.

After a while, he lifted the candle again above the place between her thighs, parted the dewy folds, and let it drip where it would. This time, after removing the pieces of wax before they could harden, he set the candle aside and bent over her spread legs. He grasped her bottom beneath his hands and lifted her from the bed, as far as her bonds would allow, and used his mouth to alleviate the resultant discomfort he had caused, by both teasing and licking her there with the tip of his tongue, while she quivered reflexively to the intense sensations he aroused.

When the keening noises she uttered had reached a repetitive fevered pitch, he suddenly withdrew from her, leaving her on the brink of release, and sat up to silently watch her reaction. Desperately, her slim shapely hips bounced and strained, as she tried in vain to find something near her to rub her aching mound against.

With one large hand wrapped in her hair, the king lifted her head up and kissed her mouth, plunging his tongue, coated with her essence, between her lips, forcing her to taste it. He broke the kiss and sat up. Her ragged breathing began to slow, although her passions were still clearly inflamed, as he stroked her flushed face gently.

After lifting a napkin from a plate of cakes and sweetmeats, which had been placed on a small table beside the bed at his request, he plucked a few dainties from it and ate as she lay in unrelieved frustration next to him. As if by an awaited signal, he broke the silence between them.

"Delicious! He smacked his lips noisily and exclaimed, "The Beornings have outdone themselves this time." He picked up a goblet of wine from beside the plate, and gulped down most of it before asking, "Are you hungry, my sweet?"

Meekly, she nodded. He untied her bonds and helped her to sit at the edge of the bed beside him, but warned her to keep her hands behind her head. Breaking off a fragment from the piece of honey cake in his hand, he fed it to her. She smiled with delight at the flavorful treat. Carefully, so as not to bruise her lips or crack the edge against her teeth, he held the wine goblet to her lips for her to drink.

But no matter how deftly he handled the goblet, some of the wine dripped down her chin and splashed onto her chest. Her lips were wet and shining with it and he could not resist tasting them first, before laving his tongue over her face and neck and then down over each breast, removing every trace. He could not help himself from nibbling on the vulnerable peaks, not hard, just enough to make her squeak. Because, he told her, they so resembled plump pink raisins.

He arose from the bed and left her there. Crossing the room, he stood in front of the fireplace and lifted a pear-shaped white gem from his collection and held it up. In the sparkling facets he could see her reflected in several miniature images as she waited for him to return. Each tiny version was as perfect as the other but none were as perfect as she. He set the flashing gem next to the emerald and returned to her, sitting again.

After gently easing her onto her back, he stood in front of her, and pulled her forward, with her legs apart, until her bottom was at the very edge of the bed and she was spread wide-open for him. After lifting her feet to rest them on his shoulders, he held the blunt head of his shaft against the glistening petals of her sex.

"And now," he announced. "I shall take my reward." Thranduil gripped the elleth at her waist and, with a roar, shoved his hips suddenly forward, spearing her completely with one firm thrust and eliciting a loud squeal from her, a shrill cry that was a mixture of shock, relief, and delight.

After holding himself deeply within her for several long moments, he slowly withdrew and teased at the edges of her achingly engorged nether lips before ramming himself into her again, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated this maneuver several times in a row, toying with her, taking his time, enjoying her reactions.

Finally and with full force, he began thrusting in earnest, stabbing into her rapidly now, not pausing to withdraw and tease, and each collision of his pelvis hitting up against her made the noise of soft, damp claps where their bodies were connected.

His ardent lovemaking drove her backwards onto the bed, and he followed, climbing up on the mattress, stretching one of her slender legs up even higher and holding it out in order in order to ram into her as deeply as possible. She removed her other leg from his shoulder to brace herself against the bedding and lifted her pelvis to meet him thrust for thrust, while they both grunted like wild beasts.

The climax of their fulfillment was explosive; the king bucked, snorted, and bellowed like a feral creature while his slave urged him on with shouts of encouragement before shrieking out piercingly with wanton abandon as she reached her own glorious spasming peak. Locked to each other and writhing energetically in their passion, the two finished together in their frantic individual struggles to reach completion.

Afterwards, and with some difficulty, the weary occupants of the royal bed slowly untangled their limbs from each other's, and fell side by side on their backs, panting with exhaustion and blissful satisfaction.

Their time together like this was nearing an end.


~ Epilogue ~

"All, all is theft, all is unceasing and rigorous competition in nature; the desire to make off with the substance of others is the foremost, the most legitimate, passion nature has bred into us and, without doubt, the most agreeable one."
-- Marquis de Sade

Thranduil rose on one elbow, lifted the blindfold for the last time from his wife's face, and brushed a loose tendril of hair away from her damp forehead before kissing the tip of her nose.

"Did my queen goose enjoy herself, as I predicted?" His eyes were warm with affection.

"Extremely so, king gander," replied his chief advisor and closest confidante, before she put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. "And next time," she said, "you shall wear the blindfold and I shall wield the candle. Agreed, my love?"

"Agreed."

Marriage: The state or condition of a community consisting of a master, a mistress and two slaves, making in all, two.
-- Ambrose Bierce

The End



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Posted: June 1, 2005

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"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"