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It’s too late. While attempting to escape the clutches of one noble, another grabs at my hair, yanking me back. No! My mind screams, even as I register the pain, second only to my fear. I cannot live like this- a slave to the whims of others’ pleasure.
What have I gotten myself into?I wonder bitterly. For the sake of my family, I have sold myself to be used and abused at some stranger’s whim. I thought I could be strong- for Mama and for James, but seeing the other women forced to the ground has made me realize how helpless I truly am.
These elves seem determined to correct my mistake. They toss me between them, as if I already was their personal plaything. Perhaps I am. One pushes me too roughly- I stumble, tripping over the remains of my torn skirt.
To my everlasting shame, I land in the lap of one of the royals. Even through my terror I can still feel a tinge of embarrassment, at finding my face disconcertingly close to his groin. I assume he is a royal- he and his companions are the few who have yet to partake in the night’s entertainment.
Additionally, they dress more stylishly, and they carry themselves a little differently than the feral crowd- with a little more control. These elves have spoken little, acted less, and yet they carry a higher, more powerful bearing. It’s a level of refinement I have never seen, and I hope that it also comes with the smallest grain of compassion.
I look up into the eyes of my newest captor, longing for a glimmer of salvation from this erotic nightmare. But his eyes are cold, glinting things that rest under delicate, disdainful brows. This one looks down on me with the same apathy he has shown the rest of the night’s activities.
“Please Sir,” I beg nonetheless, desperate for kindness. The thought of begging an elf leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but it's better than the fate that waits before me. I have no experience with this sort of thing, and am completely out of my depth, but I have to try anyway.
“Please, I wasn’t meant to be here tonight. It’s only my first night in this place- ”
But his coldness cuts me off before I can finish my plea, silencing my hope along with my words. “Filthy wretch,” he says, looking down on me with a cold malice. With barely a movement, he presses a polished boot to my stomach, and easily shoves me away from his tailored robes.
Hope dwindles where I land, as this royal tosses me aside. Oh, what cruelty! Is there no one who sees me as more than an object in this room? Despair curls in my center when I look out at the women I came in with. Many who were crying as the men took them have fallen silent, accepting their fate, while others have only the energy to release pained moans.
This is a nightmare with no ending. I thought I had prepared myself for every eventuality, and accepted my new fate as a slave, a plaything. But this ignominy, this abuse is too overwhelming for me. I’ll scrub floors, clean streets, beg, do anything! Anything to just get out of this room right now.
To further add to my disgrace, I now find myself prostrated at the feet of the elf I took notice of when I first walked in- he must be their leader. Aside from being the most handsome, he is also the most composed, surveying the men, the scene, and even me while remaining aloof.
Everything about his bearing cries nobility, even perhaps royalty. There is an imposing presence that seems to exude from him- a quiet charisma that arrested me even from the moment I first laid eyes upon him. Even the other finely dressed elves seem to deference to him, and he has the bearing of a natural commander.
In spite of my hatred of elves, I find I cannot look away from this man. Everything about him radiates power and beauty, from the barest flex of clothed muscles, to the sleek, dark hair pulled back from high cheekbones. From my prone position I can just barely make out the lines of tattoos that peek out from his cuffs and his collar, and I wonder fleetingly how far down his body those tattoos go.
He stares down at me, but otherwise does nothing else to even acknowledge me. What goes through his mind when someone like him looks at someone like me? A man like him is the epitome of everything I am not.
Against all odds, a sliver of hope pierces my chest when I look at him. He has not said anything, but he also hasn’t discarded me, or tried to force himself on me. Perhaps this man, this elite elf, could be my last hope.
“P-please,” I cry brokenly, the tears glittering my eyes. “I beg of you, do not let them take me. Not like this,” I sob. “I never asked for this, I never wanted it to be like this. Please, have mercy!”
However my impassioned pleas only seem to fall on deaf ears. This elf only stares down at me, like a bird of prey. He does nothing but watch me silently, benign, and that small piece of hope within me begins to bleed back into dread.
Desperately, I look to the stunning elf above me, then around at the others, but they all only stare impassively, doing nothing. The elves in his group in particular, appear to be taking their cues from the one before me. Is there truly not one who feels even the smallest pity for me?
Hopelessness, like a black pit, begins to swallow me whole, as I fully start to understand my fate. I am nothing to these men: a slave to be used and discarded as they see fit. To them I am little more than a bug on their shoe, and not even worth regard, much less any kind of decency.
There is nothing for me now. My life, all the dreams and aspirations I once entertained in the dingy hovel I shared with my family- it’s all gone now. Nights like this will be my life now, filled instead with tears and undulating bodies.
One of the elves that grabbed me before now approaches the dais. He seems wary of the lord above me, but determined to have his disgusting way with me. A maniacal grin stretches across his face, and his eyes have taken on an unnatural gleam.
I know what he wants- what they all want from me, ultimately. Yet there is still a part of me, buried deep within, that shines defiantly through the blackened despair that has taken over.
It’s anger. The anger I have felt all day and night- anger at my circumstances, anger at the situation I find myself in now. The anger I feel when I think about my mother dying on a cot, and my brother stealing food just to barely survive, while these privileged men sip wine and force themselves on women.
My anger makes me act before I can even think. There is a wine glass on the floor near me; instinctively I grab it, and smash it across the face of the noble who is trying to approach. It is a defensive reaction, one I am making before I even realize I am doing it- but the next thing I know, there is broken glass across the floor, and the leering noble howls in pain as he clutches at the blood streaming down the side of his face.
I have made a terrible mistake. A bloodlust seems to overtake the injured elf, and he reacts immediately, slapping me so hard that I fall back down to the ground. Pain as I have never known lances through me, as my head smacks against the unforgiving stone floor.
My ears ring and skull throbs. The pain seeps in all around, disorienting me as I taste blood in my mouth. Through the haze, I can barely register myself being pulled, as the noble I have injured yanks me closer to him.
He yanks my legs apart. I protest weakly now, and even that is effort as my stomach heaves from the sensations. This is it- my life is truly over. Everything I have ever believed in and hoped for myself will be taken from me tonight, destroyed by this man who is determined to rape me.
I whimper as he settles in between my legs. I try to resist, but every movement is heavy and constrained as he brings himself closer. My first night as a slave, and all the hope I’ve ever held for my future is about to be ripped away from me.
All the stories and tales I have heard about pleasure houses could not have prepared me for this. No one told me this was going to happen; that I was going to have my virginity taken by a lust-crazed elf in the middle of an orgy, while other men watch on.
