In the King's Garden

Title: In the King’s Garden
Author: Jackie S
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Thranduil / OFC

Author’s note:

If you think that Violet’s lot in life is a hard one, then consider this: In the middle ages in Europe, all well bred young girls were betrothed before they could walk. No one asked them for their opinion. They were betrothed mostly for political reasons and the men to whom they were promised could be of any age or of any character. The young women were delivered to their husbands as young as thirteen or fourteen and then spent the rest or their lives having as many children as possible. All things considered Violet’s fate is not so terrible – although to be brutally honest, this is really just a fantasy of mine, inspired I might add by the delightful pictures on Moralanque’s site (Go to members and click on her name).


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Violet pulled at the fabric of her bodice. It was far too tight and pushed up her breasts in a manner she considered to be improper. Combined with the low neckline, the whole garment worked ‘suggestive’. That was her father’s word and she wasn’t usually allowed to dress in such a manner. She had shared this information with her great Aunt at the time of the fitting. But Aunt Rose had merely smiled and muttered something around the mouthful of pins that had protruded from her mouth like the spikes of a hedgehog. Knowing that Aunt Rose was given to saying the most outrageous things, Violet had leant forward and strained to hear the words. She was sure she had heard ‘the king likes them young and trussed up,’ but knew better than to ask.

Unlike the rest of the family, Violet did not believe that Rose was demented. She knew that the old woman just liked to shock those around her into a semblance of life. Still beautiful despite the wrinkles that lined her face, Rose was the sun around which the rest of the family danced. She was an accomplished musician and singer. She could speak many languages and her fingers had embroidered tapestries of great beauty. Yet there remained an air of secrecy about her. Her entrance was always accompanied by a silence indicative of hastily completed gossip. Violet wondered about this mystery because somehow she felt that she was a part of it. Whenever she tried to lead one of the servants around to sub subject, they would abruptly find other work to do. The only servant who had ever said anything remotely interesting to her, had been thrown out the very next day as soon as he had been sober enough to walk.

He too had mentioned a king. What was it that he had said? “She’ll grow up to be another pretty flower for the king’s garden.” He’d said it with such a strange expression upon his face that the eight year old Violet had run screaming for the safety of her Aunt Rose’s skirts.

Aunt Rose had not come with them on this outing. She had said that she was too old to travel so far in a carriage. Her bones would no longer permit such discomfort. Then she had cried. In all her seventeen years Violet had never seen her aunt cry and she had tried hard to reassure the old woman that the journey would not take so long. She had promised to tell her all about her adventures when she returned but her promise had been met with yet another tirade of tears. The old woman had enclosed her in an embrace so tight, that she had feared for her ribs. Her father had finally ended the parting by pulling Violet away and reprimanding his aunt with sharp words.

But Aunt Rose’s outburst had dampened Violet’s joy at escaping the strict regiment of her father’s house. Located somewhat outside Laketown, their house was the most beautiful in the area. A fitting house for the ruling lord. A fitting but lonely house for the daughter who was discouraged any contact with the children of the village. A prison for the soul that longed for adventure.

“Are you alright my dear?”

Violet glanced sideways at her father, smiling ever so slightly at the look of concern on his face. He was a portly man who was fast losing his hair. The thousand worries of responsibility were etched into his face, aging him far beyond his years. Violet knew that he was worried about the upcoming talks with his liege lord. Twenty years had passed and now it was time for the terms to be renegotiated. Although he insisted that the renewal was a mere formality, Lord Ethan’s voietraetrayed a nervousness that he tried to hide from his daughter.

Violet had not been encouraged to learn about politics but her natural curiosity had caused her to listen to the gentlemen when the other ladies had spoken of gossip. She had learnt that Laketown was an overgrown town, grown rich and lazy upon the bounty of the land and the cleverness of its businessmen. It had long extended beyond the paltry defence of its walls and even if this were not the case, there were none but the sheriff’s men to man the walls. But it had never needed to defend itself. So long as they remained true to their liege lord, he would protect them . If there were any problems the king would send soldiers and repel the attackers. In return, a proportion of the town’s wealth, mostly in the form of wine and vegetables was sent to the court on a regular basis.

“I am fine father.” Violet replied, trying to find a more comfortable place to reposition her bottom. The carriage, despite its elegant lines was a teeth-shattering way to travel. She would have preferred to ride her sweet-mannered mare, but her father had insisted that they take the new carriage. It was important that appearances be kept up, especially in front of one’s liege.

A face appeared at the open window and Violet smiled at her brother. Being a man, it was permitted that Edward travel by horse. Although he tried not to show it, Edward was as excited as she was about visiting the king’s court. She hoped that there would be dancing and singing and elves. But of course there would be elves. Violet swallowed and glanced sideways at her father, afraid that he could read her thoughts. The servants had reassured her that elves were regular visitors in the shops of Laketown but she had never actually seen one. The upstairs maid had told her that they were as beautiful and as elegant as their reputation. A shiver traversed the length of Violet’s spine. Elves were her secret obsession. She knew they had long hair, pointed ears and their faces were hairless. That fact didn’t upset her at all. Edward’s patchy attempt at facial coverage had convinced her that beards were really not very attractive. And her father’s scratched when he kissed her good night.

Finally the long awaited woods appeared, as too did her father’s agitation. Violet knew that he had only ever been to court once before in his life. Exactly 20 years ago when the last pledge of allegiance had been made. Lord Ethan had travelled with his father, just as Edward and Violet were travelling with him now. Their liege lord placed great value upon meeting the entire family. At least that was what Violet had been told. In 20 more years, Edward would likewise return with his son, and so the allegiance would continue into the mists of ages to come.

Violet started as the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Had her feet not been braced against the opposite bench, she would have fallen to the floor in an inelegant heap. She leant forward to peer out the window, but her father stayed the movement by placing a restraining hand on her arm. Clamping her teeth together in an effort to hide her frustration, Violet obeyed.

Words were spoken outside and then the carriage moved on. Perhaps an hour later, they were required to pull over again in order to permit another carriage to pass by on the narrow road. The window was open in the other vehicle, and Violet had a momentary glimpse of the passenger. The woman inside was dressed in silk of brilliant blue. Her black hair, much like Violet’s own, was dressed high on top of her head and her neck was decorated with jewellery of great value. Despite her striking looks and expensive dress, the woman looked sad as though she had been crying and had now only stopped because there were no tears left to fall.

It was the only traffic they saw on the entire journey.

Clearly, their arrival had been expected. As soon as the carriage rattled out of the forest and into the clearing, servants swarmed the vehicle. The door was opened and steps were placed to ease the alighting. Violet bent forward and bunched the rather full skirt in her hands before she stood up. A hand appeared in the open doorway and she accepted it, ducking her head as she exited the vehicle. Despite her years of training with Aunt Rose, a gasp of astonishment escaped her as she took in her surroundings. The whole place was full of elves! Elves were busy unloading the wagons and holding the horses. And wonder of wonders, Her hand was being held by an elf. She resisted an urge to snatch back her hand and descended the stairs with as much decorum as she could rescue.

They had stopped in front of a bridge. Beyond the wooden construction was a gate that shone in the sunlight as though it were made of pure gold. Violet shook her head. Surely it was an illusion? Gold would be too soft for a defensive gate.

The elf who had helped her alight from the carriage now assisted her father. Then bowing in more of a mocking than servile manner, he lifted one hand to indicate the golden gate. Edward joined them as the liveried elf moved off to supervise the team of workers who were unpacking the wagons of their tribute. Edward took her hand in his and gave it a quick squeeze. Violet squeezed back; this was better than anything she had ever imagined. Only their father seemed troubled. He cleared his throat and his daughter could see the tears in his eyes.

“I am so sorry Violet. Forgive me.”

Violet stared at her father, wondering what he was talking about. “There is nothing to forgive father. I am so glad that you brought us.”

Lord Ethan sighed and took Violet’s elbow, indicating that Edward should take the other. Together they crossed the bridge and walked beneath the golden gate. Violet had expected the cave, for that she realised was what it was, to be dark and cold. Nothing could have been further from the truth. The walls themselves seemed to glow with a warm and friendly light that hinted at magic unknown. They followed their guide through a maze of passages until they stopped outside a second set of doors. Here they halted and the elf who had accompanied them picked up a sheath of white silk from a waiting maid and approached Violet. He bowed and spoke in a low and lightly accented voice.

“If the lady permits.”

Violet turned to her father and raised her eyebrows in a quiet request for instruction.

The man nodded and reassured her. “King Thranduil requires all women to cover their faces in his hall.”

Violet cleared her throat and spoke to the elf, pleased that her voice did not break. “The lady permits.” The veil was placed over her hair and held in place by a crown of interwoven flowers. The fabric was of such fine weave that she was able to see without difficulty.

Satisfied with his handiwork, the elf turned and knocked with his stab of office upon the door. Once, twice, three times. When the echo of the last knock had faded, the double doors were opened and the elf led the three of them into the great hall.

Aware that she was representing her people, Violet suppressed the impulse to stare at her surroundings like a child at the village fair, instead she kept her eyes upon the throne at the end of the room. It was, she realised far less of a throne than an ornate chair. But if the throne itself was a disappointment to her, the figure adorning it was not. She would have known that he was a king even if he had not been wearing a simple crown of intricately entwined gold. He had a presence that drew the eye and a beauty which excelled anything she had ever seen. His golden hair reached below his shoulder blades but there was nothing feminine about him. He had augmented his majesty by dressing in a gown and coat of gold. Around his waist he wore a scarlet band, the predominant colour of Laketown’s flag.

He rose as they crossed the length of his hall. “Why do you come?”

Violet heard her father swallow and his voice cracked as he tried to speak. He cleared his throat and then tried again. “I come to renew the allegiance of Laketown.”

The king smiled. “The terms remain the same. Is this arrangement satisfactory to you?”

Lord Ethan nodded. “The terms are acceptable.”

“Have you brought a flower to seal the liege?”

“I have, my lord.”

Now the king’s attention turned to Violet and it was her turn to swallow beneath the blue eyes. Slowly he descended from his pedestal and moved towards the party, not once taking her eyes off her. She felt the palm of her hands moisten and her heart fluttered within its cage as though it were a bird seeking its freedom. Her breasts rose, fell, and rose one more. Violet was glad that the veil hid her face. Surely it was not polite to stare at one quite so openly as the king was doing?

He stopped in front of her and his hands sought the bottom of the veil. She fought the impulse to stop him, wondering what this ceremony was all about. Beside her, she heard Edward issue a squeak of protest but a mere glance from those blue eyes stopped him. Slowly, slower than she would have believed possible, he raised the fabric until he could see her face. He smiled at her and she dropped her eyes to the ground. No one had ever dared look at her like that before. Thranduil pushed back the veil so that her burning face was exposed to the courtiers present. Violet felt a finger under her chin and a subtle pressure forced her to look upwards again. She blushed under the intimate perusal, aware of how very close the king was standing. Close enough for her to feel the heat emana fro from his body. He dropped his head and placed his lips upon hers, incredibly soft and surprisingly strong.

Then it was over and Thranduil had turned his attention back to her father. “I accept this flower as a symbol of your allegiance.” The king held forward a hand and Violet saw her father drop to his knees. Keeping his head lowered, Lord Ethan grasped the extended hand and kissed the ruby ring upon the royal forefinger.

The king waited until the man was back on his feet and then spoke. “For twenty further years may you hold the fealty known as Laketown in my name.”

Violet stared at her father. His face was whiter than freshly washed sheets. Something was horribly wrong here. Why was her father not happy? Why had the king kissed her? What did it all mean?

“You may leave my presence.”

If it was possible, her father became even paler, as though he had received a shock that had struck him to the very quick. Hesitantly he bowed again from the waist and took a few steps backwards. Throwing a sidewise glance to her brother Edward, Violet did the same. There was an audible gasp from the courtiers present and Violet felt a hand grasp her arm. She glanced up although she knew who she would see. Thranduil’s face was dark with anger, but the anger was not directed at her.

“Did you not even tell your daughter?”

Her father shook his head and Edward, brave and foolish Edward, stepped forward as though to challenge the king.

Through the thin robes beside her, Violet could feel the muscles tense. She prayed that her brother would not do anything stupid. She wasn’t sure what was happening here, but obviously an old man and an untried youth wouldn’t be able to stop it. “Go in peace Edward,” she said as quietly as possible. “You can’t change it.”

An elf appeared at Edward’s side and Violet could see her brother’s courage visibly deflate. The tension settled and her kinsmen departed in a seemly manner. The doors were opened and Violet’s menfolk passed through. Only Edward dared a last glance backwards before the massive doors swung shut and she was left alone. She felt the tears of loss pricking at her eyelids and wished that she could vanish into the floor. Anything would be better than permitting these beings to see her cry. As if he could sense her distress, the king reached up and pulled the veil back down over her face.

She barely reacted as an elf appeared at her side and escorted her out through a side door.

Any thoughts of flight left her as she lost her bearings in the labyrinth of passages and caverns. She had no idea where she was being taken and she was too afraid to ask. As she walked, her mind tried to make sense of the whole series of events. Was she a prisoner here? Was her presence necessary to ensure her father’s obedience?

Eventually they came to their destination. A door was opened and Violet was invited to step inside the chamber. It was opulently and comfortably furnished. Relieved to be alone at last, Violet brushed the veil from her head and flung it upon the large bed. She stooped and pulled the pinching and uncomfortable shoes from her feet, placing them carefully at the door through which she had just come. She turned around and stared at the huge tapestry tdomidominated a whole wall. It showed a garden of magnificent beauty. There were a myriad of flowers in this garden, each one more beautiful than the next and in the middle, lay a being as golden as the sun: Thranduil.

“Of course we will have to add a violet.”

Violet turned around, clutching her hand to her heart. She had not heard anyone enter. She had not heard the door open. Thranduil saw her eye the door and shrugged. “I have my own ways around the palace. Some of them you will learn with time.” He moved over to a sideboard and poured wine into two goblets.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked, holding one goblet out towards her.

Violet wasn’t usually permitted to drink wine which had not previously been watered down. But then on the other hand, there was no one here to forbid it. She took the proffered drink, gasping as his fingers brushed over hers.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You make me nervous.”

He smiled as though he hadn’t expected otherwise. “They didn’t tell any anything did they?”

“No,” Violet answered hentlyntly, wondering if she should volunteer any further information, but demurred. It would not be good to anger a king. “Am I your hostage?”

Thranduil laughed and seated himself upon a sofa. He indicated the place next to him, and Violet obeyed him. She sat down but pushed herself into the corner, as far away from him as she could. The king smiled but did not comment. Violet had the feeling that she amused him greatly and the thought brought a flush to her skin.

Violet took a mouthful of wine to settle her nerves, aware that the elf was staring at her again. To be more precise, he was staring at the abundance of breast that was spilling from her bodice. She resisted an urge to pull up the retreating neckline.

“No Violet. You are not my hostage. You are my flower. The price for Laketown is a flower of unparalleled beauty. That my love, is you.”

Violet’s thoughts raced and jumped at this information. She was the price for Laketown? But that meant that… No! Her mind made the connection. The silences fell into place. Her father’s words. Rose’s insistence on teaching her court etiquette.. They had all known. A tear slipped over the rim of her eye. A tear for herself? Or a tear for the family that had sold her?

Thranduil slid across the sofa and lifted her chin in one hand. “It is not a punishment my flower,” he said catching the tear with his finger and then raising both to his wickedly well-defined lips. “It is an honour.” Violet followed the progression of his finger, swallowing hard as his tongue flicked across his finger and the tear vanished.

Violet risked another mouthful of wine. It was from one of Laketown’s own vineyards she realised. They had perhaps brought it with them today. “And if I refuse?” she whispered.

Thranduil paused to drink his own wine. “Do you think that wise?”

Violet gulped. Would he really take Laketown away from her family? She sneaked a glance at the king from underneath her eyelashes. He looked so very young, but worked so much older and wiser. How old could he be? The kings had always been called Thranduil. Could it be that they were always the same person. “I don’t know,” she said at last.

He rubbed the hard surface of the goblet across his bottom lip and peered over the rim at her. “Do you find me so very unattractive then?”

Violet stared at him. He had removed his outer coat before he had come here she realised, and now he undid his robe, slipping his hands from button to button, leaving a path upon which her eyes could travel. She could see a great deal of his chest. It looked warm and inviting. And it wasn’t the least bit hairy like Edwards. Her br was was coming fast again and she gulped at her wine. Her gaze remained upon the elf opposite her. He had turned his head slightly and she could see his pointed ears. She wondered if they were hard to the touch. She wondered if she hadn’t drunk too much. Foolishly it seemed, she had emptied the whole goblet. She placed it upon the table and waited.

“You can touch them if you like.” He had caught her staring. His voice had changed. It was low and intimate.

A hand rose as though of its own accord, then fluttered back down to rest in her lap again. Violet stared at her hand and waited to wake up in her own bed at home. Surely this was nothing more than an erotic dream? She felt him beside her although she hadn’t heard him move. He lifted her hand and placed it upon his ear. She followed the gesture with her eyes, curiosity winning over etiquette. Despite their strange appearance Thranduil’s ears felt very much like her own, only the tip was hard. She rubbed over it with her forefinger and then stopped as the king groaned.

He caught her hand before she could pull it back. “Do that again, follow the curve with your finger.”

She did as he asked, wondering at his response, wondering at the strange heat in the pit of her stomach, wondering what it would feel like to feel his fingers on her ear. Or his tongue.
She shivered at the thought and the king turned his eyes back upon her.

“Follow your instincts Violet. Please me.”

Violet shook her head, wondering if he could see how hard her nipples were. He probably could, considering how close they were to him. “I have no experience my lord.”

He grinned lazily at her and pulled her head down so that their lips met. Just their lips Violet realised. No more. If she wanted, she could pull back and break the contact. Only she didn’t want to. She liked feeling those lips against hers. The teasing touch that was barely there. She wanted more she realised. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to feel him.

“Use your tongue,” he instructed.

Her tongue? What should she do with her tongue? Hesitantly she poked it out a little and Thranduil moved so that she was touching his lips. Yes, it felt different, touching him with her tongue rather than with her skin. Curious, she followed the line of his bottom lip, then pressed her lips back against his for comparison. Then his mouth opened beneath hers and she instinctively pushed her tongue inside, barely entering his mouth before she came into contact with his tongue. She felt a jolt flash through her body. Iusedused her nipples to tighten further and deep down in that secret place, a warm feeling began to spread. She looked at the king in surprise.

“Good isn’t it?” he whispered.

She nodded, unsure of what she should say. She was breathing fast and even if she could have said something, her mind wasn’t cooperating. She kissed him again, sighing as their tongues met and the new feeling returned. Why had no-one ever told her that it could be like this? So pleasantly warm and wet. Could he taste her as she could taste the lingering basil and chives within his mouth? She protested weakly as Thranduil pulled away and placed the goblet he had been holding onto the table in front of them. Smiling, he took her wrists and placed her hands upon his chest. “Undress me Violet. Take your time and explore my body to your satisfaction.”

Violet stared at her hands upon that golden chest. How white they worked. How very fine and dainty. And under them, his body: warm, hard, and so very desirable. She glanced down at the king. He was waiting for her to move her fingers. So she did. She let them follow the natural path marked by his ribcage until her hands reached the resistance of fabric and she opened the remaining buttons. She ran her hands back up his chest and onto his shoulders, parting the fabric so that it slipped from his shoulders to pool at his waist and imprison his arms.

Her attention was immediately caught by his nipple; or to be more accurate by the ring that pierced the flesh there. Tentatively she reached out with one forefinger and touched the small hard point, careful not to disturb the golden ring. “Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked, fascinated despite herself.

“No,” Thranduil replied. “On the contrary, it feels very good.”

Violet leant forward to look more closely at the pierced nipple. Thranduil raised his chest towards her and Violet understood what he wanted her to do. Hesitantly she stretched out her tongue and licked both nipple and ring. The slight motion caused the ring to tug at the king’s flesh and Violet heard him gasp in pleasure. He liked it. Smiling, pleased at this newly found power, she repeated the process, liking the way that his nipples stiffened. Her hand found its way to the other nipple and she rubbed her palm against it. He groaned and grabbed her hand, lifting the palm to his mouth and licking it until her skin was wet with his saliva. Violet found herself moaning at the sensation, at the delightful wetness, at the absolute wickedness of sharing body fluids in such a fashion. Then the king replaced her hand upon his sensitised nipple, covered it with his own and pushed it backwards and forwards.

Violet paused to stare at his stomach. She drew her hand out from beneath his and traced the ridges, then dropped her head to explore his navel with her tongue. Vaguely she became aware that something was moving within the pool of his clothing and that that something was poking into her chin. There was a new and exciting scent that caused her to gasp. She drew back her head and stared at the offending piece of anatomy.

Thranduil laughed and brushed the strands of raven black hair that had fallen forward onto her face. “Have you never seen a man naked?”

Violet thought about the question. “When I was a child, I often bathed with Edward.”

The king ran his fingers through her hair. “Then you are at least aware that there are differences.”

Violet let her fingers range across his chest and nodded.

Thranduil caught her hand and pushed it down to the bulge she had observed earlier. “This is what happens to an elf’s body when he is touched by a woman of exceptional beauty.”

She explored the length with her fingers. How strange it felt under the silken fabric of his robe, long and thick. She knew what it was of course. But it was hard to reconcile what she was now feeling with what she had seen between Edward’s legs all those years ago. And it kept growing! Knowing instinctively that he wanted her to, she dropped her head and ran her tongue along that intriguing length.

“You please me Violet. There is much of my beloved Rose in you.”

Shocked, Violet looked up into Thranduil’s eyes. “You know Aunt Rose?”

“Would it surprise you to know that I knew her well?”

“But she is old.”

“Yes,” he replied, a flicker of pain crossing those eyes of intense blue. “But once she was young and innocent as you are. And she pleased me as no other.”

Thranduil pushed her gently away and stood up so that his robe slipped to the floor in a puddle of silken gloss, leaving him naked and erect. Perhaps because it was directly before her, Violet found herself staring at his member. Truly there could be no comparison with a boy. Tentatively she reached out a finger and touched the bare flesh A dew drop of moisture issued from the top and she remembered how he had banned her tears. Now it was her turn to catch the tear and lift it to her lips. It tasted salty and rich and she desired more.

“Stand up Violet.”

Violet obeyed him, shivering at that voice of command. He was as regal naked as he was dressed. Truly a king among elve
“T
“Turn around.” She did as she was told. His lips travelled along her neck, his teeth nibbling against the sensitive flesh he found there. Then his tongue was on her ear and she shivered at the sensations he created. She sighed and felt herself relax back into his hard body. She could feel his penis pushing into the small of her back and the sensation pleased her. She turned her head and his mouth met hers, his tongue seeking and finding entrance into his mouth. His hand tangled itself into her long hair and he pulled it to one side before seeking out the buttons on her dress. One by one his able hands conquered the tiny buttons, then slipped in to caress the small of her back.

As the last button was undone, Violet clutched the bodice to her breast, not sure why she suddenly felt so modest.

“Let it go,” he growled into her ear. “You are my flower now.”

She dropped the fabric and the dress fell to the floor. She stood still, as naked as the day she was born, knowing that he was staring at her, but not wanting to know what he was thinking. What if he didn’t like the way she looked? And why was that so important anyway?

His hands were upon her waist, sliding downwards to cup her bottom and knead the fullness he found there before slipping forwards and tracing the curve of her stomach. “Turn around Violet.”

She turned and he took a step backwards so that he could gaze upon her nudity. He smiled and placed his hands upon her waist. “Your waist is so tiny and your breasts so full and inviting. Would you have me worship at your altar?”

Violet, who hadn’t he slightest idea as to what he meant, giggled and replied. “Go ahead, you will do as you like anyway.”

Thranduil pushed her gently back against the sofa so that she fell onto its surface with a minimum of noise. “That is a lie,” he said. “The gardener does as he must to bring his flowers to bloom.”

He knelt before her and pushed her legs apart. Violet, rather surprised and not entirely happy at having herself exposed in this manner, squirmed unhappily. She was rather fearful that she might be smelly down there. Thranduil, seemingly oblivious to her predicament, slid his hands up her legs until his fingers were digging into the soft flesh of his upper thighs. Then he dropped his head and did something absolutely amazing with his tongue. At first Violet thought that it was a mistake, she had had no idea that there was anything quite so sensitive down there, this nub that seemed to take over bor body and demand its due.

Violet closed her eyes and clenched her teeth in an effort not to cry out. Such behaviour would not be seemly, but then no one had ever told her how to react to someone doing that to her. She clutched at his golden head, hoping that he wouldn’t stop because it just kept getting better. Something was vibrating inside her. It forced her to stretch her torso and push her hips closer to his mouth. Thranduil was increasing the pressure on her nub of pleasure.

“Please, o please,” she whimpered, knowing instinctively that there was more pleasure to come and wanting to feel it.

Without warning, he pulled her clitoris into his mouth, and sucked hard. Violet shot forward, pushing against his shoulders. Her pleas of passion turned into a cry of pain, then stopped completely as one hand reached up to caress a breast and push her back against the cushions. He raised his head and his hands slid under her buttocks, capturing and kneading the flesh as he pulled her forwards to the edge of the settee. His mouth, Violet noticed, was smeared with her wetness, gleaming and glistening like an exotic fruit. He liked this, she realised. He liked doing this and that increased her pleasure.

“Do not be afraid, my petal,” he said as he slid her legs over his shoul and and descended back to her burning and pulsing centre. Violet tensed as she felt his lips again, expecting him to hurt her as he had done before, but his touch was gentler, his tongue lighter than a bee settling on a flower. But the effect. The effect was electrifying like a cold balsam on badly burnt skin. She shivered and sighed and bucked and made noises that no lady should ever make. But then perhaps no other lady had felt such exquisite torture.

He stopped and stared at her. Then smiled. “Scream to your heart’s content, no one will hear you but us. The walls are enchanted.”

She touched his face, running the backs of her fingers down his soft cheek, so unbearably smooth to her oversensitised skin. “I fear I already have, and I did not even stop to wonder if anyone could hear.”

His face settled into a satisfied expression. “And I will make you scream some more, my vibrant beauty.”

He slid one hand back up along her spine until it found a natural place to rest in the small of his back. His other hand reached down to stroke his member, bringing it up to rest at the apex of her legs. He ran it along the length of her folds, coating it in wetness. “It will hurt the first time,” he said softly, his voice rising in an unspoken question.”

Violet swallowed, she had been to weddings and had seen the bloodied bed sheets paraded before the curious spectators. She could ask him to stop. He probably would this time. But then she would have to think about it, worry about it. It was better now. He had given her so much joy already; he deserved his own release.

“Do it,” she replied.

He smiled his haunting smile at her and slid back along her slippery vulva until the head of his penis caught the edge of her vagina. Then he stopped and looked into her eyes as though searching for a message. He moved forward slowly, a mere finger width and Violet felt herself stretching to accommodate him. The feeling was not unpleasant. She smiled shyly at him and he thrust forward again, causing her to buck and gasp at the feeling he was generating. She dropped her eyes to see how far he was in. Her eyes widened as she realised that only the rounded head was inside.

“Do not worry, it will all fit in, as soon as the barrier has broken.” She wanted to ask him more about this ‘barrier’ but before she could form the question, he pulled back and then thrust forward at the same time as he used his hands to pull her to him.

Violet clutched at his body, her nails cutting into his back as her head rested upon his shoulder. It had really hurt. “Is it over yet?” she gasped. She hoped it was. This was no fun at all.

Thranduil turned his face and nibbled at her ear, his hands travelled her back, calming her; he spoke nonsense words of reassurance. “Only the pain is over. There is nothing but joy ahead.”

She did not deign to answer him. It hurt, it really did and despite the warm and wet things he was doing to her ear, she wanted him to stop. No wonder there was always blood on the sheets, he must have ripped her apart down there.

After a few failed attempts, she finally managed to find the muscles that seemed to be responsible down there and tensed them.

Thranduil’s head shot up in astonishment. Violet started at his response and squeezed the same set of muscles again in shock. Had she hurt him? Well it would serve him right, he had hurt her too. Only he wasn’t wincing, he was smiling, clearly happy with her. What had she done? And Violet realised that in fact the pain she had felt had melted away and that gripping his member like this produced a wonderfully full feeling. Perhaps she shouldn’t ask him to stop at all.

As if he were thinking the same thing, Thranduil angled her back into the cushions and bent down to suck a nipple into submission, and then another one. Violet squirmed under his ministrations and discovered that by moving her hips, she could create a very interesting sensation in that stretched out place inside her.

Thranduil didn’t leave her any time to explore these new sensations. He pulled his member almost all of the way out and then pushed it back in. Yes, it felt good. When he did it again, she tried to grip at his pulsing warmth in an attempt to recapture the feelings she had felt a short time ago. But he was too fast for her, so she thrust her hips back into him instead. It was enough, there were new feelings building again, almost as fine as the first time.

Thranduil’s thumb slipped to her nub and he began to rub her in time with his thrusts. Violet could hear herself calling out his name, asking for more, asking for something. And his voice was replying, reassuring her of her beauty, of the pleasure she was giving him, of the love they would share.

And then it was over, her world was reduced to a single golden ray of light that pulsed through her being and lifted her up to places unknown and undreamt of.

“What was that?” she asked as soon as she could speak again, her voice full of wonder.

Thranduil lifted his golden head from the pillow of her breasts. He reached up to stroke her face and said. “That Violet, was your first orgasm.”