Of Pleasure and Peril

Of Pleasure and Peril

Chapter Three/?

by Tasmia Gaylord

Rating: Hard NC 17

Beta:Novelin

Warning: graphic S&M type situations but not too harsh, explicit sex

Disclaimer:The Tolkein characters are borrowed for private use in this story, I do not claim to own them and have no intentions of profiting from them

Summary: King Thranduil meets his match in his private punishment chamber with amazing consequences for all parties involved

Pairings: Thranduil/OFC , Legolas/OFC Elrond/OFC Haldir/OFC and perhaps some others, who knows?

Feedback: Post it here or you can send me an email "Tasmia7@yahoo.com"

Chapter 3

Thranduil’s approaching climax seemed to lift him
physically off of her as he pounded himself deeper and
deeper into Tulare with each forceful thrust. He
arched his back and turned his head to the ceiling,
revealing his firm, sculpted chin and corded neck to
her captive view from below him.

She thought to herself, "He really does look like a
garaf, a wolf, father spoke truly." The thought ran
thrills through her to think of herself being taken by
a wild beast for that is what he seemed. And as he
lowered his face back to her she could see the wild
wolf-light in his eyes as he neared his peak of
arousal. His thrusting became irregular, jerking and
she pulled his head down closer and became almost
delirious as his face became a demented mask as it
contorted uncontrollably during his vigorous,
deep-thrusted release. His lips pulled back to reveal
strong, white even teeth and small beads of moisture
appeared along the hairline of his forehead as
delivered his last, hard grunting, gasping thrusts
into her. He pulled her into a close embrace, burying
his face in her tousled hair, and lay there gasping
for breath for a moment before pulling up and away.

He held himself above her, armst att at either side as
he pulled his torso up from her skin and struggled to
control his breathing. He licked his lips and blew
out puffs of air and she could feel the drips of his
perspiration splatter like a cool mist over her face
and chest as he shook his head to feel the breeze at
his neck. His hair was damp and his body was covered
with a slick layer of orgasmic sweat, which dripped
down on her breasts and belly and felt utterly
delightful.

He dropped down beside her and sprawled himself out on
the pillows and furs and grinned up at the fire lit
ceiling as if very pleased with himself. He had
utterly failed, she knew, but it looked as if he had
enjoyed every minute of it. She propped herself up on
one elbow and pulled her own damp hair off the back of
her neck for some relief from her overheated state.
Thranduil looked over at her and reached out to stroke
her arm and let his hand travel down her side to
finally resther her thigh. He turned her to her back
and parted her legs to inspect between them. The
angry whip marks covered her lower belly and the
inside of her thighs; her pubic lips were massively
swollen and reddened from the lashing. He left her
momentarily and returned with a small jar like
container, which he opened and removed what appeared to
be a salve from inside with his forefinger. He spread
the salve on her swollen, sore mound, which brought
almost instant relief from the searing, throbbing
heat. Tulare sighed with relief as he tenderly closed
her legs again and pulled her back into his arms.

She smiled with satisfaction as she held her head
close to his hard chest and listened to his heart
which still pounded from his exerted efforts. She had
joined with elves before this night but none as
experienced or as well endowed as her Elf Lord. She
grinned when she remembered the way his face changed
while he was punishing her for enjoying his rough
attention. She had held her legs apart as he had
ordered, although it was hard not to clap them
together after the first stinging whiplash was
delivered, and tried to keep from crying aloud in
pain. She so wanted to please him that she was
willing to endure even this torment if it was his
desire. There was no mystery behind her strange gaze;
she was in love with her King, Thranduil, and love
makes its own rules when the game is played for real.


There were tears aplenty as he raised and lowered the
leather strap but she kept her eyes on his face and
knew that he was getting no satisfaction from the
little lesson he was attempting to teach her as his
mouth turned down and his eyes narrowed with growing
suspicion. Finally he tossed the strap aside and
clapped his hand to the throbbing, overheated mound
and she felt enormously proud of herself as his
_expression turned from one of annoyance to a look of
wonder. She did not struggle or scream or attempt to
dissuade him as he fingered her there, even though the
agony of his firm touch on her sore private parts was
nearly unbearable. But it was also so strangely
exciting, and arousing, and she lifted her bottom to
his hand in gentle supplication.

He had looked up to her father and then over to the
doorway. "Remove him!" he shouted suddenly and two
dungeon guards immediately appeared within the chamber
to do his bidding. They unstrapped Arthame while
Thranduil watched and Tulare continued to writhe under
his groping hand.

When they ungagged her father he had started shouting
angrily at the Elf Lord, "Let her go, you can not keep
her here and make me leave!" But Thranduil merely
watched him as the guards removed him physically and
made no reply. Her father continued to fight and
shout as he was led off and up the stairs but neither
Tulare nor Thranduil paid heed.

He seemed fascinated with her ever increasing state of
arousal no matter how hard he tried to prevent it and
finally sat up and moved to position himself between
her still wide spread legs. His ever-present pouting
demeanor seemed to lighten as he gently slid the head
of his swollen member within the lacerated entrance
and began to enter her slowly, almost tenderly, and
she moaned in response to his penetration. He was
larger than any of the less mature elves she had
joined with and that had not happened very often as
she was still in her first centuries and had led a
more or less sheltered life within the underground
city. His wide hard penis stretched her within as it
moved deeper and deeper and she could tell he enjoyed
the tight, gripping sensation of her ever still
somewhat immature orifice. The pain from the whipping
seemed to add a delicious bittersweet flavor to her
experience as he pulled out and pushed in deeper and
rubbed against the outer surface of her opening. She
was fully lubricated but the friction aggravated
the swollen state of her genitalia but she did
not cry out or allow him to see her pain.

He increased the tempo and began jabbing her with
stiff, even strokes which made her call out
uncontrollably with the ecstasy he brought her. "Yes,
yes! Oh, deeper, deeper, ah, I die! I die!" unaware
that her voice was traveling up the stairway and
reaching the ears of Thranduil's curious daughter.
Not that she would have cared if she knew; she was
beyond caring about the outcome of her dangerous game
with the cruel Thranduil. She knew Sayri, they were
close in age, but mostly only from a distance at
special festivals or dinners when she accompanied her
father, the King, or brother, Legolas, and she had
envied the Elf Princess her nearness to the great Lord
of Mirkwood. She had fallen in love with him as a
mere elfling and had yearned for his attention
although it seemed clearly impossibo ato attain. It
was only after she had learned about the punishment
chamber, and the fate of any female elleth whose adult
male relative had foolishly tried to steal from the
hoarded treasure of Mirkwood, that she had realized
there was hope of being noticed by the King, although
under less than desirable circumstances. But what
hope would there have been otherwise? So she had
begun to lay her plans. Her father doted on her and
would do nearly anything to please her and she used
his fatherly devotion to manipulate his downfall and
her chance to lay with Thranduil.

"Father, I wish I had a mithril bodice as pretty as
the one Sayri wore to the Mereth Aderthad, (Feast of
Reunion) do you think you could bring one for me to
wear for Thranduil's Birthday celebration?" That had
been the beginning of the whole chain of events that
led her down to this chamber, that one seemingly
innocent request. She knew there would be only one
choice for her father should he attempt to comply and
fulfill her girlish desire for bodily ornamentation.

"But, Tulare, my darling daughter, do you not think
the King would recognize the stolen treasure at once?"
Her father had shaken her head at the silly request
but she was not to be easily dissuaded.

"You are right, Father, I had not thought of that, but
I could wear it for my Coming Out party with just our
family and friends and Thranduil would never have to
be the wiser and I would feel as pretty and as special
as Princess Say." ." and on and on, for decades, she
had pressed her Father for a pilfered piece of
mithril wear of one type or another. A necklace, a
bracelet, a belt or a hair ornament, "It matters not,
Father, I know you love me anyway...it is just that
sometimes I feel so pland and ordinary without the
same type of jewelry worn by others among the
high-born...”

If her father had ever suspected anything beyond an
ordinary craving for pretty baubles in her oft
repeated wheedling requests he did not give utterance
and she knew he would never suspehat hat she was
willing for him to be caught outright in fulfilling
her desires, indeed, she was hopeful he would be found
out immediately if he pilfered anything from the
King's Treasury!

As Thranduil neared his climax she felt that it was
well worth all the careful strategies employed to
manipulate her father into, at last, filching a small,
mithril buckle for a belt he had commissioned from the
Leather Guild for her second century birthday
celebration. He had felt very proud of himself as he
presented the lovely gift to her and has been quite
pleased with himself as the assembled family oohed and
aahed over the precious silvery trinket that adorned
the belt around her slim waist. She knew that word
would travel, and would travel quickly, back to the
greedy King. There was only one crime in Mirkwood; to
steal from the King. It had not taken long for the
consequences to rapidly fall into place. The arrest,
the questioning, the trial, the sentencing and, at
last, the dungeon guards at her door to take her away
from her weeping mother for Arthame’s punishment.

"At last! At last!" She thought joyfully to herself
as she shouted in her own release as they climaxed
together, her wild wolf lover above as she accepted
each hard driven thrust with complete and total
surrender. "At last!"

And now she lay within his embrace fully satisfied and
happiean san she had ever felt. There was a strange,
strangled sound from the doorway and both she and
Thranduil rose up to look. Sayri stood in the
doorway, hand to her mouth, and a look of astonishment in
her wide eyes and raised brows. Tulare smiled at the
Princess. Then she turned back to her Lord and
cuddled herself closer within his gentle arms.