HUNTRESS AND HER PREY

The young Elf tore through the forest, only fleeting glimpses of his agile form visible as he streaked among the trees. With boundless energy, his flaxen hair streaming behind him, he ran to dispel his anger.

Legolas had been banished from the castle caves by his father, who told him that he should try to find more useful ways to occupy himself other than constantly teasing his sister and getting underfoot and in the way of busy people like his mother and the servants.

He was only forty-five years old, full of high energy and restless spirit. He was at an age in which he was an accomplished and well-trained warrior, but he had no outlet for his abilities since he was deemed too young to join the other soldiers of Mirkwood on patrol. At this age he was also acutely sensitive to any form of rebuke and Thranduil’s admonishment had stung.

He ran, banishing reality from his mind and pretending that he was chasing great spiders through the deepest, darkest parts of Mirkwood. His bow and arrow were drawn and he swept his arms from side to side as he ran, playing at shooting his imaginary arachnids.

Suddenly a flash of blue tumbled to the ground in front of him, causing him to stop abruptly. Startled, he looked down at a bundle of bright skirts and crinolines the color of the sky. This curious bundle of clothing somersaulted onto the forest floor, stopped, and a pair of elegantly-shod feet clad in golden slippers flew up into the air. The next moment the figure leapt up in a swirl of bright blue and Legolas found himself staring into pale aquamarine eyes regarding him with an accusing glare.

“Where do you go in such a rush, Boy?”

A curious Elf-maiden with a sharp but not unpleasant voice stood in front of him, interrogating him, it seemed. He saw that she had long, black hair and was dressed in a fine silk gown, although it was ripped and tattered in many places.

“I—well—I—“ Legolas stuttered in reply. He was taken aback and his ability to speak faltered. His sapphire eyes, huge and round with incredulity, continued to stare. “Who—are you?” he asked.

“I asked you a question first!” the strange maiden retorted. “Where are you going and what do you think you are doing?” She began to circle him, looking him up and down with an appraising eye.

“Do you not know who I am?” he asked. He was aghast. Surely everyone in Mirkwood and even the nearby Esgaroth knew Prince Legolas, Thranduil’s youngest son. He had matured and blossomed so much in the past year that everyone he knew spoke of his extraordinary grace and beauty and every time he went riding or walking, people would turn to stare at him.

“You are a pretty boy, that is plain to see,” said the maiden. The sound of giggling could be heard behind the prince. Some leaves rustled also.

He looked at her sharply. What was this creature? He could see that she was an Elf, yes. The tips of her pointed ears stuck through the mass of her tangled hair, and the ivory swell of her bosoms appeared above the lacy neckline of her dress.

“Are we alone?” he asked, turning to look behind him at the source of the giggling.

“Master Elf, you have done nothing but ask questions since we have met each other,” said the mysterious Elf-maiden.

“And you have answered none of them,” he said, turning to her, rage beginning to grow. “Would you please tell me who you are?” he asked, trying to summon his most haughty and imperious tone, pulling himself up to his full height.

She took a few steps forward. “And you have answered none of mine!” She glared back at him. “Now what is your name?”

Suddenly he sensed a presence behind his back but he was too late in reacting and hands were swiftly placed on him from both sides, pinning his arms. Someone deftly removed his bow from one hand and someone else emptied his quiver of arrows onto the ground.

He tried to twist around to see his captors, but the strong arms continued to grip him and hold him in place. A hand clamped onto the back of his head and prevented him from turning to see who it was that held him.

He was too shocked to say anything further. Strong hands clamped him securely around the waist and chest. He did not try to struggle. The dark-haired Elf-maiden approached until she stood nose-to-nose with him. She was tall, he was not, and he could see that she was older than him, although not by much.

“I am Huntress,” she said. “And I have caught myself a pretty prize. Take him to the cave,” she instructed.


Legolas was led to a small cave under a hillock, surrounded by trees and hidden by many vines hanging over the entrance. When Huntress’ two companions had thrust him inside, they tied his hands behind his back and placed him on a bed of straw. He sat still and said nothing. He thought he would watch and listen and try to determine calmly what was going on. He thought he would wait to hear what this Huntress had to say by way of explanation for kidnapping him. He was sure that they had captured him in order to extort money from the king, even though Huntress had not seemed to recognize Legolas when she first saw him. But he reasoned that she must have been hiding in the trees above when he had run past, and had dropped to the ground in order to capture him for this very purpose. He had noticed her tattered clothing. It was of obvious fine quality but it may have been stolen, and in any case, she looked to be in need.

Huntress sat staring at him from the far end of the cave. Her gaze lingered long upon him. She was dark, hidden by shadows where the dim shaft of light did not reach.

He could wait no more while she stared at him. “Why have you brought me here?” he asked. He fidgeted against the bonds holding his hands tied behind his back.

“Take off your clothes,” said Huntress, “and let me see what you’ve got beneath them.”

Legolas was stunned. For a moment he could say nothing.

Huntress chuckled. She stood and approached him. “Never mind. I will do it for you,” she said.

She knelt and lifted his tunic, exposing his lower torso. She ran her hand over his taut, flat stomach, and then began to untie the laces of his leggings. She removed his boots and tossed them aside.

“No!” he cried, and tried to kick his feet, but his upbringing would not let him strike a woman and soon he stopped.

Huntress could not slip the tunic over his head because of his bound hands and so she tore it from him, first ripping it down the middle and then tearing the sleeves to get them off his arms. After his upper body was bare, she went to work below, loosening his leggings and sliding the soft suede pants down his legs and pulling them off over his feet. She stopped to appraise him.

“You are well-formed,” she said, looking at him in his underwear. She removed his stockings and lastly, she gently pulled off his underpants.

When she had stripped him completely she stood and looked down at him.

“You are very beautiful,” she remarked. “But you are not excited. Why not, my love?”

“I am not your love!” he spat. He was horrified and embarrassed, but he would not allow her to see this. He was a virgin, but his pride would not let him admit that either. His gallantry prevented him from being overtly rude to this strange woman, but he could protest her treatment of him by not allowing himself to become aroused in her presence.

Huntress took a few steps back from him. “We shall try to remedy that,” she said.

To Legolas’ horror, Huntress began to undress herself. She reached behind her back to unhook the clasps on her gown. When it was undone, she let it fall to the ground. Beneath it she wore white corsets and crinolines. She removed the latter and stood before Legolas with her legs bared.

They were long and shapely limbs, with an enticing gap between them at the tops of her thighs. Legolas felt a twitch in his groin occurring against his will. Disgusted with himself, he looked away from her.

“Oh no,” cried Huntress. “You must watch me!” She came to kneel beside him once more and grasped his chin, pulling him to face her.

Legolas decided to stop fighting against his repugnance, reasoning that Huntress was in control of him and the sooner she got what she wanted from him, the sooner she would release him. He sighed and tried to relax himself inwardly. The expression in his large eyes softened and he gazed upon her in the diffused light, letting his natural arousal take place.

Huntress looked at the swelling beginning to take place between his legs, and took notice of his quickened breath. “Hmmm,” she murmured. “I like what I see.”

She began to untie the ribbons holding her bustier closed. When it was loosened, she slid it off and let her breasts spill forth.

Legolas’ blue eyes widened at the sight of her full, firm breasts and their peaked, rosy nipples. He abandoned himself to lust, not trying any longer to stifle the moan that escaped his lips, or the erection that now sprang upward from between his loins.

Huntress gazed at him with admiration showing in her eyes. “Yes, you are very well-formed indeed,” she said.

She stood beside him so that she could lower her underpants and let them fall to her ankles. She stepped out of them and he could see that she was fully naked.

Legolas groaned. Staring at Huntress, he strained against his bonds, his chest muscles flexed, his nipples erect. His member, now swollen to its maximum length and girth, twitched and rolled back against his abdomen. He could feel an aching in his scrotum and he could not keep his hips and legs from writhing in need.

Huntress laughed. “Look at you now, Boy!” she cried. “Not such a boy anymore, are you? What should I do with you?”

“Please….I beg of you,” Legolas moaned. A look of fear flickered in his eyes. For one horrible moment he thought she might leave him like this—without touching him, or relieving him of this exquisite torture. He writhed and tried to twist his lower body at the waist so that he could create some friction between his throbbing shaft and the ground beneath him.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Huntress, her voice a whisper. She knelt in front of him, cupping her breasts in her hands, then dropping one hand and letting it slide down her belly to her groin.

Legolas emitted a groan. “Please—touch me,” he whimpered.

“Touch you?” she asked, grinning at him. She crawled on hands and knees to his side. “Shall I touch your hair?” She stroked the flaxen tresses with cool fingers, letting them linger in the silky strands.

Legolas groaned. “No…”

“Shall I touch your pretty face?” She caressed his smooth cheeks with gentle touches, and pressed a finger to his curvaceous lips.

“No…no…” he cried. He bucked his hips, leaning on his elbows, his throbbing member waggling in the air. “Please…please…” he moaned.

“Perhaps I should be touching your chest,” she said, moving her hand to the satiny skin. “Mmmm…your skin is so smooth, but hard as a rock. Your little nipples look delicious…they are so pink and their nubs like little pearls. But I shall not bite them.”

“Ai! Gods! Your words torture me!” he cried.

Huntress laughed. “I like to play with my prey before I devour it,” she said. She looked into his sapphire eyes with a bold stare.

Legolas whimpered. She was torturing him, but her words made him believe that she would finish him. He sighed under her touches. Even though she was doing very little, at least it was some contact. He gazed at her full breasts and parted his lips, showing the pink tip of his tongue.

Sliding her hand downwards from Legolas’ chest along his belly, she stopped when she came to his erection, its straight length standing upright and gently swaying.

His anticipation caused his nerve ends to tingle, every golden hair on his body standing on end. His legs twitched and his member swayed more wildly. Drops of moisture leaked from its tip.

Huntress did not touch his groin area at all, but moved her hands to his thighs, stroking their silky muscles with skilled hands. But she looked upon his maleness with admiration. “My, but you are very well-developed,” she said. “What a prize you are.”

“Oh, please…please…whatever you want…please…tell me…I will do it,” he cried.

“Will you give yourself to me?” she asked.

“Yes…yes…” he moaned.

“You will give me your virginity?”

“Yes. Ai…please…” he whimpered.

“You have never done this before?” she asked.

“No. No,” he said.

“Do you take yourself in hand to relieve yourself?” she asked.

“Yes. Of course,” he said. “Why? Oh, Gods!” he cried, as he felt her lips brush the end of his shaft. Her hands, still on his thighs, squeezed them while she bent forward and licked the juices from the tip of his member.

“You are delicious,” she whispered, raising her head from his groin. “I would like to taste you some more, but you must promise that you will not spill your fluids too soon.”

“I…can’t…promise…” he gasped. He felt her lips slide over top of his member and envelop it in her warm, velvet mouth. His body gave a great involuntary shudder.

Huntress raised her head, letting his wet, slick shaft slide from her lips. “No…not yet!” she cried.

She wrapped her fingers around his thickness and squeezed it gently but firmly. “Not too soon,” she admonished.

“Ai…Gods! Please untie my hands so that I might feel you!” he cried.

“Not yet,” she said, and placing her hands upon his belly, she straddled him.

Sitting atop his thighs, she raised herself on her knees and put her fingers in her mouth. She wet them thoroughly with her saliva before she inserted them into herself, all the time staring into Legolas’ wide blue eyes.

She straddled him, moving forward and above his jutting member, raising herself so that she could impale herself upon it.

Legolas cried out at the feeling of being sheathed in her warm folds.

Huntress began to raise her hips, pumping herself up and down on top of him.

“No!” he cried. “Not this way!”

She stopped, incredulous. She stared at him.

He raised his head and gave her a fierce look, his blue eyes flashing. “Untie my hands!” he cried.

The forceful note of authority in his voice caused her to move quickly. She dislodged herself and pulled him to a sitting position. Reaching behind him, she grappled with the ropes binding his hands and untied them.

When they were freed, he wrapped his arms around Huntress and threw her down onto the bed of straw. He rolled on top of her and placed his hand between her legs.

Huntress cried out in surprise, but quickly submitted to his show of authority.

Legolas grasped his member and positioned himself between her thighs. He removed his fingers from her opening and inserted his rigid shaft in her entrance. Squeezing his buttocks, he thrust into her slowly at first, trying not to hurt her, and then harder.

She shouted joyfully, crying his name. “Legolas! Oh, Legolas!”

He bent his head, his pale hair brushing her quivering torso, and took one of her nipples in his mouth. He was surprised because he had expected her to be dirty and perhaps have an unpleasant odor, but she tasted sweet and clean. He sucked it gently, and when it was fully erect against his tongue, he let it go and raised his upper body on slim but muscular arms.

She smoothed her hands over his chest and twiddled his nipples between her fingers. “You are so beautiful,” she groaned, her body jerking with every powerful thrust of his hips.

“Ai!” he shouted, coming with a great shudder, spilling his pearly fluids into her in several great spurts.

“Ahh,” she moaned. She laughed heartily. “Ai, Gods, Legolas, but you are the best I’ve ever had!” she cried.

A radiant grin erupted on his face for the first time since his capture. However, it was soon replaced by a frown. “How do you know my name?” he asked.

“What did you say?” asked Huntress, still lying on the bed of straw.

“You said you did not know who I was when I first came upon you,” he said. “How is it that you know my name?”

“Well…I…” Huntress stammered.

Suddenly, the sound of laughter could be heard from near the cave entrance, and two figures presently entered.

Legolas shielded his eyes, trying to discern who they were, although they were silhouetted in the light behind them, streaming through the opening of the cave. He thought they must be the two captors who had helped Huntress when he first ran into her. He bent to retrieve his leggings and hastily pulled them on over his nakedness.

The two males stepped into view. “Hello, little brother,” said one, grinning broadly.

“You!” cried Legolas, aghast. “And you!” staring at his other brother who smiled knowingly.

Huntress sat up and joined Legolas’ two brothers in their hearty laughter.

Legolas was shocked. “What is going on?” he asked.

“Huntress here is our favorite whore,” said the oldest brother. “Ada paid her to—er—‘initiate’ you. He devised this devious plan in order to make it a little more exciting for you. He has noticed lately how bored you have become, and how much of a nuisance you have been to everyone.”

“But how could he? I am insulted!” Legolas stomped back and forth in the small cave, kicking at the pile of straw. He was enraged, his sense of dignity shattered. Huntress backed away from him, holding up her hands for protection.

“Now, little brother,” said the oldest, placing his arm around Legolas’ shoulders and giving him a hug. “It is five years until your majority. Only then will you be allowed to go out and do some real hunting, and join us on daily patrol. But Ada can see your restlessness and your need to be more interestingly occupied than sitting in a classroom all day or helping the ladies to gather flowers. He has also noticed—we all have—your growing maturity when we are in the baths. You have developed very rapidly in the last year and Ada could see that it was time for you to be deflowered.”

“Huntress here is a whore, but she is delightfully inventive, and has serviced your brother and me well these past few years. Ada has paid for her to service you exclusively for the next five. That way he will be sure of your safety. And she will be sure to keep you from becoming bored.”

Legolas looked askance at Huntress, who was quietly getting dressed.

“You are saying that all that capture routine was just an act?” he asked.

His brothers nodded. Huntress looked at him and smiled.

He gazed at her thoughtfully, his hands on his hips, his brow crinkled. “Would you mind being with me exclusively?” he asked her.

“Oh no,” said Huntress, shaking her head. “I was not lying when I said you were the best I’ve ever hand. No one else has turned the tables on me before. You became quite the master, and I liked that.”

“Right,” said Legolas, looking pleased with himself, while his brothers looked a trifle disappointed. “I have decided that I will agree to this arrangement.”

Once they were dressed and following his brothers out of the cave, Legolas turned to Huntress. “I must go and have a talk with Ada about his tendency to assume too much about me. But I shall walk you home first. Where do you live?”

“Not far,” she said. “East of here—on the riverbank.”

“Tell me,” said Legolas. “What is your real name?”

She looked at him and smiled. “It is really Huntress,” she replied.