Legends of Belariath
Lindor
Tucked away in one of the far eastern spires of Silivar's palace, lay the rich confines of Lady Pioringwe's Istimamen' ten' Tel'Arverne', or the Academy for The Noble Wife. Upon reaching maturity, the sons of the Council of the Exalted are all trained by their own fathers in politics, hunting, and the arts of war; While their daughters are instead sent to this very selective school to be trained for their futures: As the noble wives, mothers, caretakers, and High Ladies of Villispar. It is said that the teachings imparted to these elven women make them some of the most graceful, alluring, enchanting, irresistible, and comforting beings to be known in the land.
Being that Verdspar is the creative and cultural capital of the world, the very rock of civilization, such training for the young Elven maids is no small task. It is at this academy that these noble girls are taught the fine arts of proper carriage, sewing, cooking, the donning of fine garments and the subtle mixture of perfumes, gardening, the commanding of servants and keeping of good house, the intricacies of intimacy and love-making, and creating music that not only would soothe and please their husbands, but to become so enchanting that they might inspire the very wildest of beasts into submission, or the trees and flowers to grow. It is said that Silivar himself calls the maidens into the palace each time the moon is full, strictly for the purpose of singing their harmonies in unison, and that their melody lulls the entire land into a state of ecstatic bliss.
Now, specifically on the subject of making love, it is imperative that these noble wives-to-be, already betrothed and promised to one of the heirs of elven royalty, arrive at their weddings with maidenhoods intact. In order to be the perfect gift of faithful submission to their husbands, it is also required that they have never before known the touch of another male. The cultivation of this perfect wife has become Lady Pioringwe's lifelong task - and she pursues it with an iron fist.
But how, you may ask, do these princesses learn how to make love if they cannot lose their virginity? I will tell you, curious reader, by relaying this story of one such experience with Lady Pioringwe, the academy's most respected and feared Headmistress.
It was a fine spring day, about a decade ago during my ninetieth year. The sun was shining through the arched windows of our study room, and an intoxicating breeze studded with the scent of ripe flowers permeated our senses. All the girls of my class seemed distracted, and Headmistress grew more impatient with us than ever. We were failing to produce our needlework tapestries fast enough, threads of rainbow colors depicting the victory of the Exalted and the foundation of Villispar after the Kin War. I myself had paused mid-stitch, my keen and long ears perked high for the twittering song of lovebirds sitting on a branch, just a few feet from my window. But my daydream was torn asunder by the sudden sensation of my long ponytail being yanked quite brutally, causing tears to start from my eyes!
"Arwen Tindomerel!" Pioringwe barked, using my 'proper' title, while I whimpered in both pain and fear. She was tugging the entirety of my hair quite hard, pulling my head back until I could feel the length of my ear upon her breast. Her ice-blue eyes, cold and hard, glittered down at me and seemed to penetrate the very depths of my soul. Her fragrant auburn locks trickled over my cheek, threatening to make me sneeze.
"Y-y-yes, Headmistress! A thousand apologies, I was merely pausing to consider whether I should stitch the trim of Villispar's tunic in silver or gold, you see here--"
"Silence, insolent girl!" She snapped, cutting me off with a rough yank of her ironclad grip, and causing me to prick my own finger with the needle. I dropped the sewing entirely, drawing a sore thumb to my lips, and watching a single droplet of my own blood spread into the cloth, just over the image of Villispar's good wife; a red blotch now where her heart should be. "I have heard quite enough of your pathetic excuses for daydreaming... The Noble Wife is always productive, always serving the interests of her husband! The Noble Wife does not have time to tend to her own desires, when the needs of him and his offspring are to be tended to first! There is only ONE excuse for such behaviour, Lindor. Perhaps you have not been sufficiently satisfied, yet."
I leapt to my feet at once as she dragged me out of my seat, and released my hair only when her ruling stick was firmly wedged into my lower back. In this way, she prodded me painfully towards the front of the room, to that vast, polished oaken desk of hers with the strange smooth grooves carved into it. I could feel my cheeks burning scarlet as the other girls, my peers, all began to giggle around the room. I wanted to plead and beg for mercy, but knew that this would only anger Headmistress even more, and double my punishment. So forth, I marched obediently, until she commanded me to halt. Tossing her stick aside, I felt her hands creep around from behind, cupping my breasts firmly. Fingertips seized and pinched nipples almost painfully, through the thin cloth of my robe. Her cool breath upon my ear made me tremble, as did her firm pinches, twisting and pulling my nipples outward, causing them to harden instantaneously. Headmistress had a way of commanding one's body, just as she commanded a room. That stern voice whispered in my ear, "Bend over." just as she released me. I did as I was told, and slipped onto her desk, face down. My breasts flattened against the cool wooden surface, nipples throbbing and raging warm with blood against that cold and unyielding plane.
"And the rest of you...!" Pioringwe snapped, turning upon the other maidens just as her hand flipped the hem of my garment up, exposing my naked rear to the entire room. The other girls fell silent with a fearful hush, the moment she turned upon them so fiercely. "You are all just as guilty, but I will use Lindor to make an example of you. If anyone would like to join her, please, interrupt or let me catch you drifting off again." Not a peep was heard, and one could barely perceive the movement of bated breaths in the class. I felt my belly and breasts settling into a groove in the hard, cold wood, probably carved for just such a purpose, as it cradled my form perfectly. It also seemed to position my naked bum at the perfect upward angle for Headmistress to reach, as she never seemed to miss it.
And then, she proceeded to spank me with her bare hand - apparently, I had not committed a violation worthy of her favourite hardwood paddle. For this, I silently thanked the Goddess, and endured the punishment that had become so familiar to me. "This is what your husband will have the right to do to you, should you disobey his command. And while you are under my care, ladies, you may consider me a surrogate for all of your husbands-to-be. You WILL obey my commands and complete your tasks, or you will suffer such humiliation before the entire class." Headmistress gave this lecture in her cold, stern voice, barely wavering as her arm swung, and her flat palm struck my buttocks, alternately, leaving handprints and forming reddish welts. The sound of flesh popping against flesh filled the room... I could imagine beads of sweat forming on her alabaster brow. And myself? I held my lips together with my teeth, aching to yell or scream, but daring not for fear of angering Her further... She continued on: "But once you are married, you will be ladies of high society, and your husbands will not risk their reputations by humiliating you in public. With me, you will not be so fortunate, is that understood ladies?" Whack, whack, whack... Whimpers emerged in my throat, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure, and at the same time, warmth began to flood my veins and nerves... a tingling anticipation that made my hips begin to squirm each time she slapped me.
"Yes Headmistress!" The maidens all chimed in perfect, obedient harmony. I was grateful that I at least could not see them, as I was facing the wall. But hearing them speak raised my awareness that they were all witnessing the glorious display of my derriere being pummeled by the spanking. I envisioned them all sitting in perfect rows, their long and dainty hands folded together, their large and exotic eyes bright and barely blinking as they watched.
And then, I could feel it... As my thighs trembled, I felt my untouched womanhood begin to twitch, clench and unclench, drizzling my moist essence in tiny rivulets down my inner thighs. Through endless counts of such torture, Headmistress had 'trained' me to associate this punishment with arousal. I could hear her laughing softly... drawing her hand back for another slap, and then pausing to cup her thin fingers around my hot, dripping sex. "There is only one reason to please yourself, and that is to sate your sexual energy if your husband is away on business or war. You are allowed the touch of another female, but never a male. You are allowed such pleasures in private quarters, but never in the public eye. That is why we shall practice such things upon each other here - to ensure that all of you are well satisfied, and never seeking the violations of some passing male that is unfit for such noble delight." Upon the word 'delight', she slid her fingers between my nether-lips, pressing her middle finger-pad firmly upon my engorged clitoris. And then she stroked vigorous circles around it, pulling and tugging the pliant flesh along with her movements rather than rubbing it abrasively. Her wrist worked with quick, jerky movements and masterful precision, and in a matter of mere seconds, it seemed, a strangled cry fluttered from my throat as my sex began squirting its juice, my body convulsing from the waist down... Heat racing through my spine, overtaking all of my form at once with a white-hot pleasure and release... And she accomplished this with a single digit! Each time her fingertip swirled so gently, so skillfully upon me, my hips rolled and bucked as if I were a mere puppet dangling from a single string. By the end, my inner thighs were thoroughly soaked, my ears burning bright red with embarrassment, and I whimpered helplessly with my face buried in my arms. Truly, Headmistress was the chief authority on female orgasm. She ensured that we had plenty of them!
~
Later on that evening, we were released to our respective homes to dine with our parents. Headmistress' words rang in my ears, even as her handprint still throbbed on my backside. Was this to be my fate forever - submitting to the will of another... my life-mate... my husband? I could not fathom it, and if my intended were anything like Headmistress, I could not find any will to live such a life. I had to appeal to my father, and find out who I was betrothed to. With any luck, it might be one of the nicer princes of the land. Perhaps the future wouldn't be so bad...
"Losa Celebrin." My father stated the name so calmly, and without fuss. He placed his fork down on his plate and reached for a golden goblet, but eyed me from across the table with a questioning stare. Voronwe Tindomerel, my father, faithful servant to Silivar and long-standing member of the Council of the Exalted. Here was an Elf to be revered; He hardly took off his chain mail or sword, even at the dinner table. "Mankoi lle irma sint?" He asked why I wanted to know, and the question was delivered with a gravity that demanded I have a good answer.
"Amin naa lle nai, Heruamin Atar." I replied in a steady voice, attempting to appease him. "I was merely curious, merely wondering what it would be like to be married to him. Would I still be allowed to heal the injured forest animals, or strangers that I meet?" My tone was stoic, but a rock of dismay had sunk into my breast. Losa was one of the most arrogant, cocksure and haughty High Elven princes dwelling in Verdspar. Oh, certainly he was handsome, and envied by all and desired by most. But he had a temper and was very difficult to please, from what I had heard. I imagined him keeping me locked in our house, free to do nothing save please him and attend high-brow functions. My cheeks suddenly turned pink with remembering each time he had passed me at the temple or in the marketplace, so freely stealing a grope with his hands, or a kiss from my lips whenever he had a chance to corner me alone. I had disliked him since childhood, but now I understood his actions: He must have known all along that I was meant to be his! I shuddered, but froze instantly at the reaction of my father.
"Yours is no place to wonder how or why, but to serve your people by being a good wife to your husband, and producing fine offspring to carry on our ways, and serve your Lord Celebrin and Lord Silivar." His voice had a note of displeasure, and though he remained calm, and drank steadily from his chalice of wine, I could see the hard glitter in his dark eyes and knew that I should speak no further. Women were generally not allowed to have their own opinions - a rule I was rapidly starting to dislike.
"Yes, Atar." I murmured complacently, lowering my eyes from him and poking a utensil into my plate. Suddenly, I no longer had an appetite. I wished that my Atara were still alive, and wondered still what had caused her premature death. Father would never tell me, and her body had mysteriously vanished, leaving us to bury an empty coffin. The only token I had of hers was the white mage-robe upon my back, which she had given me upon reaching my eighty-fifth year. I fondled the soft white cloth with my fingertips, remembering how magical and soothing her presence always was. She would have found a way to let me speak my mind to Atar. Now, there was no hope.
That night, I prayed to Alarea for guidance. It was She, my Goddess, who had given me the gifts of Healing, and it was She who had instilled upon me the sacred duty to repair all beings who were injured; To ease all suffering that would cross my path in this world, and this life. Surely, I would no longer be able to serve my Goddess properly, if I were bound to the whims of a husband and children! Gazing fervently at the night sky through my window, a plan devised in my head, and I knew what I must do. It was the only thing I could do, to continue on the path that Alarea had set before me... I must escape this place, with it's ivory towers and ironclad rules. I could not allow myself to be lost to the world in an arranged marriage. And so, carrying only the whiterobe upon my back, a small sack of coins, and the slingshot I had used as a child to knock apples out of the trees, I set off on foot, alone, into the night. As I passed through the gates of Verdspar, and into the wild woods, I knew not what fate lay before me - only that now I was the commander of my own life. And I decided that I like that feeling, very much.