Elceleth - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Elceleth stood before her lord and master, who in any second would bid her to dance. She trembled in nervous anticipation with the knowledge that no one had ever done what she was going to attempt.

For a full cycle of the moon she had practiced in the golden dancing chains that she had worn for the entire time; learning their weight; their feel; how they moved and flowed; until she and the chains were as one. For the last week, the human musicians had come to her chamber and played their human music while she attempted to put her elven dances, modified to account for the chains, to them.

It hadn't gone well; the combination of the music and dance just hadn't meshed. Finally, on the night before last, she couldn't stand the frustration anymore and had shouted and swore at the musicians and sent them away. That night she cried herself to sleep, knowing with certainty that she would bear the scars of a beating from the heavy lash.

The next morning, she refused all food, choosing instead to meditate on her predicament. AS usual, the musicians arrived after nightfall for the final rehearsal. As they arrived, the troubled elf came up with a plan to save her flawless hide. As she waited for Corlon's signal, she remembered that conversation well.

<Sit down, and let's get to work!> she commanded them in their humanish tongue.

<Lady-Dancer, you overstep your bounds. You are but a woman, even if you are favored, and cannot speak to we men in such a manner.> This was the harper, the leader of the musicians, named Lonarc.

<If Lord-Master Corlon is displeased with this performance, I will not be the only one punished if he deems you at fault as well as me. I have been ordered to be the best chain-dancer there has ever been. You have been ordered to accompany me. Therefore, I claim my right to order you as I see fit, so that my performance is within his expectations. If you wish to dispute my right, take it up with the Lord-Master. Or better still, challenge him for me. Do we have an understanding, Master-Harper?>

<Yes, Lady-Dancer. Shall we begin again with the Lord-Master's favorite music?> said Lonarc, subdued.

<No. The difficulty is the music. It's all wrong for elven dances. I need to hear the most alien sounding piece you know; as non-human sounding as any you possibly can; and it must be sensual and seductive. Do you know something like this?>

<I can't think of anything right now.> said the harpist.

<The Snake Worship Theme of the Dark Folk of the Steaming Forest> suggested the drummer, Noremac.

Lonarc looked lost, <I don't know that one.>

<No wonder. It's for reed, flute, and drum.> Noremac explained.

<Do any of of the rest of you know it?> queried Elceleth.

The flutist, Nusas, a large lipped beauty of a female and the only woman among them, and Haras, the hollow cheeked male reedist with almost elven fine fingers, nodded together.

<Then the rest of you get out. I don't need idle bodies distracting me.>

Lonarc humphed as he exited, while the other musicians took it in stride, well prepared to take advantage of an unexpected night off.

Once they were gone, Elceleth sat down cross-legged in front of the trio. <Now that that's settled, let's get to work.>

And so the musicians played the piece, which took a good third of an hour. While the music played, Elceleth listened with great intensity. After they finished she told them that the Snake Theme was acceptable and bade them to repeat it over and over again until the allotted rehersal time was finished.

And play they did, four more times in all, and while they played the elf sat and listened. The musicians were not used to such an attentive audience, being unfamiliar with an elf in absolute concentration. She moved not a muscle while they played, and they let themselves out when they were done when she failed to acknowledge them. At dawn, she moved and smiled, knowing that she had just averted a beating.

So here she stood, motionless; shaved, bathed, oiled, scented, chained and garbed. Corlon gave his visitor a glance, raised his hand for silence in the chamber, and bade her to dance.

The seductive strains began, and she danced. She had impressed the very spirit of the theme into her soul; now all that had to be done was to improvise a dance, which none but she knew was her greatest gift. The elf took the chains, the music and her body, and using her gift forged them into an instant product, a dance unlike any that had ever been seen before. She was the dance, and so she took the music and made it hers. She used the energy of her own nervousness, the energy of the nervous musicians who did not know what to expect, and the anticipatory energy of her audience and melded them into the dance. For this short time, she was the mistress, and she held in thrall the entire room. For this brief instant, Corlon, this foreign king, Qantar: everyone was hers to command. The Dance gave her this power, and she reveled in it. When she finished, glowing with the sweat of her exertion, she knew that this had been the finest dance she, or any elf had ever danced.

The roar of applause hit her like a hammer in the face, like the sun striking the eyes of one being brought out of dark cave. The sound was painful to her ears, yet she reveled in the glory of it, and it helped break her trance of concentration. Her mind began to wander as it relaxed with her body. This feeling was wondrous, but the dance, the Dance; that was life at its fullest! Never in her two centuries of experience has she felt so alive as when she had danced that dance! She silently acknowledged to herself that she never would have felt this if not for her abduction and enslavement by Corlon. Her servitude as his consort, the threat of punishment, the hard work under that threat were all paramount to the dance. Without it, she was just another dancer. At that moment, she decided to embrace fully her fate, to accept Corlon as her Lord and Master, so that he might help her continue to experience the Dance. She barely noticed as attendants led her from the room and back to her chamber.

---

Some hours later, she was awakened from sleep, unceremoniously stripped and bound, spread eagled and suspended, between the twin pillars of her sleep chamber. As she hung there helpless, Corlon and Qantar entered the room. Elceleth smiled in love and pleasure at their approach.

"I see that my newest consort enjoys herself." said Corlon.

"Yes, my Lord and Master. For eveything that I have expeienced under you, I will accept any price - you are my heart's Lord and Master, as well as my body's!" Elceleth replied with ardor.

"In that case," Corlon smiled with victory, "let me administer to you your just desserts. You have pleased me well this night, and though I have decided to wage war on our guest, I will first take you as my true consort."

The full realization of what he meant took Elceleth aback. In all the months since her abduction, he had never personally made love to her in any manner. The thought that he was taking his pleasure of her body only now that she had accepted her fate moved her deeply.

"Qantar, prepare your sister consort for my attentions." he instructed.

"With pleasure, my Lord-Master."

Qantar presented a leathered paddle, which she used with thorough yet loving attention on the body of her lithe and vulnerably bound elven sister. With each strike, Elceleth yiped quietly, remembering that this pain would accentuate the pleasure to come. She almost luxuriated in the sharp stings of the paddle. Once the elf was pink from shoulder to toe and up each arm, Qantar laid the paddle down and took up a crop like those used in horseriding by humans.

"I will be striking your face and ear tips, my sister. Keep your eyes closed and try not to move your head too much."

Elceleth became quite nervous at hearing this, and shuddered involuntarily. "I will try, s-sister." she replied.

With that, she closed her eyes and waited for the first strike. It struck her cheek first, and was not what she expected. The strike was feather light, just enough to cause the smallest of stings. Subsequent strikes fell all over her neck, face, ears and scalp, leaving only her eyelids and the center of her ears untouched.

Elceleth felt the heat of reddened skin all over her body as she hung between the two pillars. Then she felt the touch that must be his, and her eyes opened wide at the contrast of his soft touch and Qantar's crop and paddle. This touch was a symphony of tactile skill. His first caress sent a wave of pleasure through her that was nearly orgasmic. She had four orgasms before he even entered her. When he finally chose to enter her, it was ecstasy, and the little elf that was help so tightly yet tenderly was filled so completely by him that she howled her pleasure for any who would hear. The pleasure was so intense that 'orgasm' ceased to be an adequate word to describe it.

When at last Corlon had had his pleasure and, after a final kiss, had taken his leave, Qantar remained behind. She stroked the elf lightly as she still hung suspended in her chamber. Elceleth was grateful that Qantar had stayed behind, so that she would not be alone.

---

Later, after Qantar had freed her, they lay together in bed snuggling. Qantar had put the much loved dancing chains back on her elven sister and wrapped an arm around her, as the elf purred softly at her touch.

Qantar whispered in her ear, "Your dance was unlike anything I've ever seen. Wondrous beyond words. I was told by Lonarc that you would never succeed, just last night. That you had been nearly graceless the entire week that you practiced together. Is this true?"

"Mm-hmm," Elceleth agreed with lassitude, curling her body closer to Qantar's nude form.

"Then how ever did you do it?"

Elceleth smiled sleepily, "A little elven magic goes a long way." She yawned a sort of exhausted-but-ever-so-happy-and-satisfied yawn, and drifted off into slumber. Her last coherent thought was wondering if the musician even knew that the Dark Folk of the Steaming Forest were elves.

The End

---