Bellisima the Slave - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - The Elvish Warrior

When I was being brought up in the House of Master Matheus I was taught much about the arts of pleasuring my future master or mistress. But Master Matheus also bred warrior-slaves, trained to protect their owner, or to do their will in other ways. The warrior slaves were also taught how to give pleasure, and the pleasure slaves were also taught to fight. Although not greatly skilled, I was adept in combat training. I loved to shoot the bow, and rode as much as I was allowed. Training for combat and self-defence was also useful to tone the body. For a while I was a Huntress in the arena, and hunted condemned men, to honour the Goddess of the Hunt. But after my first Moon I could no longer represent the Huntress, and was not allowed to do anything that might mar my body, but I was otherwise encouraged to train.

After being bought by the Captain of Orcs I continued to train, partly to stay fit, but partly because it was enjoyable. The orcs were not archers, but a range was set up for me to practice. I taught the human women and goblins how to spar with wooden weapons and bare hands. The orcs would often mock us, but I did not care. They may be big, but anyone with skill and speed could take them.

But one day my Master, the Captain of Orcs, was watching me.

“You should get further training,” he told me. “I know the sorcerer can restore you if you are injured or die, but I’d rather you not have to experience that.”

“Thank you, Master,” I said.

“Don’t get carried away. I don’t want Tizak to get injured or die.”

Tizak was the densest orc in the barracks, which was a byword for stupidity.

“Thank you, Master,” I said, rather less warmly.

“You should train with the elves. They are the fiercest fighters, and know the best ways to fight with their size, or rather, your height.”

“Yes, Master,” I said, this time quite coldly.

The problem with speaking like that to your Master, who is well over six feet tall and a tower of muscle, and you are a slender woman barely over five feet, is that he will throw you over his shoulder, take you to the bedroom, spank you, and give you a good shafting. The end result, was that I went to the sorcerer Maladan’s portal...

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I found myself on a high hillside of the Green Mountains, the range that defined the western edge of the steppe-plateau where my people, the Kaltan, dwelt. Many Kaltan dwelt in the Green Mountains also, but mostly it was populated by the Elves.

I stood on a wide green lawn, and some elves walked out to meet me. It was rare to see an elf in the southern lowlands where the Imperial capitol lay. But, by their short stature, pointed ears, and great beauty with large shining blue or green eyes made it very obvious what they were.

“The blessings of the Old Ones be with you!” said the foremost.

The she-elf was shorter than I, with very long silver-blonde hair, and a very long gown of fine fabric.

“My name is Elandara, I am a member of the council of elders. This is Toran, a leader amongst our warriors, and Erin, one of our foremost warriors.”

The first was a male, although so beautiful and beardless it was not very easy to tell. The second was a lovely she-elf with long, wavy red hair and piercing blue eyes. She did not have a very lovely look on her face, however.

“So this is the fuck-toy? Why is it that she needs training to fight, when she can just lay on her back?” Erin did not seem enthusiastic about my presence.

But what struck me about her was not her anger. I said, “You have such a beautiful lilt in your accent. Where are you from?”

All I had known were the dull accents of the plains-folk, the clipped nasal tones of the Haladdan hierarchy, the rolling accent of my people, the Kaltan, and the rather brutish tones of Tachans like my Master the Captain.

I added, “It sounds as though you are singing your words, even though they were meant to be hurtful.”

Erin stared at me with an open mouth, while Elandara and Toran laughed.

“She is from the Western Isles,” said Toran. “They all sound like that out there.”

“I would love to go there,” I said. “If everyone speaks as though it is a song it must be a beautiful place.”

“Come!” said Elandara with a smile, leading towards some buildings. “Erin will be responsible for your training, so it is good you find her voice beautiful, because sometimes her words are not.”

“They are only words, and there was some truth in them,” I said. Looking back at Erin, who trailed behind, I could see she had a strange look on her face, but at least it was not the angry face.

The community was almost entirely comprised of elves, living in beautiful white stone and wood buildings. There were a few humans, all of my own people, and a minotaur, who was a blacksmith. I had never met a minotaur before, and he was actually very nice. I will admit to flirting with him a little. The elves fight with bows and short curved swords, for the most part. They fight with great skill, and remarkable speed. This is what I had to learn, and a lot of it involved sparring with Erin.

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On the first day of sparring, Erin seemed to have recovered from my words the first day, and delighted in discomforting me. We fought with wooden practice weapons and the green leather armour we wore was some protection. The armour was beautiful, and looked like large green leaves of various hues, but it did not cover the whole body.

By the end of the day, Erin had come to realise that no pain or suffering she could inflict on me would stop me from learning what I needed to. In the evening I ate with the elders, and all of that time, Erin watched me.

The next day, we started some simple sparring, when she asked, “So you are born a slave, and have been trained all of your short life to give pleasure?”

I knew that although many of the elves looked no older than me, they could in fact be centuries old.

“Yes,” I answered.

“So you were taught to pleasure men?”

“Yes.”

“And women?”

“I am trained to pleasure whoever my owner wishes me to pleasure.”

In some ways, this conversation was an extension of the physical sparring, for we continued to circle around each other looking for opportunities to strike.

“So are you good?”

“I am trained to be so,” I said.

Suddenly she stopped, and threw the wooden weapons aside.

“Come on then, go for me.”

I was confused.

“Let’s have a bit of pleasure-sparring, give you a chance to win for a change.”

I, too, threw my practice weapons aside, and stepped forward to stand in front of her. She was breathing very heavily, but not from the exertion of the sparring. We were inches apart, and I could smell her now, the scent of mountain flowers and hidden springs.

“You smell of far-away lands,” she said. She must have been inhaling my scent as I inhaled hers. “Sacred incense and voluptuous spices.”

We stepped even closer, and I inhaled her breath, as she inhaled mine. I reached out, as did she, and our lips came together. We held each other then, as our moist lips pressed together, and our tongues entwined. There was a hunger in her, but it was not the hunger of males or the other female slaves that I had by now known. She was not driven to rut and mate, and then fall away when sated. She hungered for something else.

Her hands deftly undid my armour, being more familiar with it, and aided me in my efforts to remove hers. Soon we were naked, writhing in each other’s arms on the grass, caressing, embracing, stroking, and exploring each other’s bodies. I had never felt my breasts touched the way she did so, and the ardent delicacy with which she felt my pussy.

“You have such a sexy moan,” she said.

Her hunger was such that I lay back on the grass and she lay across me. I was familiar with the hunger that could be sated, and thought I would just have to wait out this sexual combat. Quickly she spun around, her mouth thrust between my thighs, her lips pressing against my labia, her tongue entering me.

I took up the challenge, and soon my tongue entered her in return, running softly across her clitoris, then hard into her sex. She moaned as I played there, but her hunger drove her on. Loudly I cried at the pleasure she was giving me, so much that I was concerned that someone might hear. But in truth there was nothing but her.

I had never felt like this, for I, too started to feel an undefined hunger for her. I wanted to be in her, and her in me, but not in the course violence of a phallus being thrust into my body. I was confused, and unsure, and in the end could not resist her. I lay back and let her play, completely defeated by her strange hunger. She spun around to look up at me, so her hands could caress my body and fondle my breasts, as her tongue explored deep within me. I writhed in orgasmic pleasure as she played me like a lyre, and I could only lay in total defeat. My les were spread wide and my hands stroked her forearms as she played with my nipples.

Then she clambored up and brought her face to mine. Her naked, sweating body was on top of me, and a wicked smile on her sweet lips.

“Did I win?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes,” I said in a dreamy voice.

“Good. You are my war prize.”

We kissed then, and for most of the rest of the day. For the first time in my life I had found something I had never been trained to expect. Not a master or a user, but a lover. We spent every moment together from then on while I stayed with the elves.

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For the week I spent training in martial arts with the elves, I spent most of it sparring with Erin, or making love with Erin, or sleeping with Erin. I would not have thought to have known what that term meant before now: 'making love'. It was a thing for romantic fairy tales. But for that week I did not have an owner, or a master, I had a lover.

Sometimes, however, we talked. She told me of her homeland beyond the Western Sea, and I told her of my life in the Imperial Capitol. I also told her of my experiences in the barracks, and of my adventures on behalf of the sorcerer. Of the massive cocks of trolls and werewolves, and of being bound and flogged.

“You talk of being strung up like a hunted deer and whipped as though it is not a horrible experience,” she said.

“There are worse experiences. Failing in my duty would be far more painful to me.”

“Yes, I can understand that, but it is almost that you like to be tied up and flogged.” I paused for a moment, then tried to explain it.

“When you give yourself up completely, and submit in totality to someone else, and the lash and the struggling against your bonds drive you deeper into submission, you end up with nothing left, nothing but the true kernel of who you are. No pretension, no performance, just true being.”

She thought for a while. “Do me!” she said.

“What?”

“Do me, tie me up.”

“I suppose I could give it a go.” I said, but then a mischievous thought came to me. “Stay here!”

I ran off, and returned with rope.

As a pleasure slave I had received some training in the tying of ropes, for sometimes it is a slave’s owner that wishes to be treated like a slave. I had gone to the blacksmith to get a large hammer and some stakes along with the rope. I tied Erin's hands and feet to the stakes so that she was splayed out on the ground.

Her arms and legs were spread out, and she was completely helpless on the soft grass. I moved slowly up her body, kissing, and licking, until I reached her face and I kissed her as she writhed and panted in my bonds.

“Now I shall have my vengeance!” I said to her, smiling cruelly. “But we are consenting lovers, not owner and slave. For that we must give each other signals through words. Give me a word that says stop doing what I am doing, but a word other than 'stop', for you may say that without meaning it."

“Acorn,” she said as she writhed and bit her lip.

“And another word, a word that says that you consent.” She looked into my eyes, excitement and fear in them.

“Pinecone,” she whispered.

I stood up. “Smith?” I shouted, for I had also returned with him from his smithy.

“Nice,” he growled.

I had been educated to know what an aroused minotaur would present. He was as large as the troll, but the shaft was pink at the root and became darker at the flat head. We were hidden from the view of others and I knew that we would not be discovered.

“Ahhh! Nooo!” Erin screamed.

I laughed like a demon. Vengeance was mine!

I bent down to whisper in her ear. “I will put my ear near your mouth. Whisper a single word. You know the words I expect.” I put my ear near her mouth.

She paused and then I heard a gentle whisper, “Pinecone.”

A minotaur’s tongue is as remarkable and delightful a thing as his cock. He first drove his steaming dark snout into her crotch, licking rigorously at her sex.

“Ai! Kyrin!” she shouted the name of one of the Old Ones.

Her bound body writhed and panted as I lay beside her, watching the contortions on her lovely face and caressing her breast and hard nipple. The minotaur judged that she was ready, and if she was as wet as her sweat-drenched body was, she would be.

He knelt between her splayed thighs, poised over her. Then he nestled his flat tip between her nether lips, and sowly pushed! She was already too spent to scream loudly, but moaned deeply as the powerful minotaur penetrated the she-elf. His strong hands clutched the grass on either side of her hips as he began repeatedly thrusting his phallus into her with long deep strokes. She arched her back, lifting her hips to meet him.

I bent down and kissed her sweet pouting lips. “Now you are *my* slave.”

“You bitch! I love you! Ooooh!”

The minotaur snorted loudly and with a final deep thrust, filled Erin to overflowing with cum.

For the rest of the week there would be times when Erin and I would both sit atop the minotaur. One of us knelt over his snout, with his tongue in her, while the other was impaled on his phallus. We would ride the minotaur like that, while we kissed and fondled each other, in a state of complete ecstatic delight.

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At the end of the week, I had to leave. But for a few days Erin visited with me. We swam in the Pool of Souls together, so that I knew that I would always be with her. A fragment of our souls could swim together there forever.

I also had Sergeant Arack string us up together. We were tied facing each other, pressing our naked bodies together, as the orc gently whipped us with his amazing skill. We delighted in the pleasure and pain together, as our souls swam on a higher plane while our hips, and breeasts, and tongues pressed passionately together.

Eventually, she had to return to her own people, and we bade each other goodbye with tear-soaked kisses. Our farewells were in the cave where the Pool of Souls and the Door to Everywhere were, while the sorcerer Maladan looked on.

When Erin was gone, he turned to me and spoke. “Any time you like, I can send you off to see her again, you know.”

“Really?” I screamed excitedly.

“Well, yes. Of course. Why not?”

I shouted and danced around the cave, then dove into the pool to swim with her memory.

Continued in Chapter 5

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