Dark Elven Justicar

This story is a tribute to a small "RPG Maker" game about spanking and punishment: Justicar.

The Human Duchy of Jourdefesse, Vassal of the Dark Elven Queen Melasa:

Being the vassal of a dark elven queendom, the Duchy was annually taxed a percent of their young as tributes to serve in their underground haunts, as workers, playthings, and in the case of men, as husbands and concubines since the chocolate-skinned, ivory-haired, knife-eared vixens were still monstergirls, doomed to prey on men for essence. Human women toiling and sweating, having sex, and living close to them fed them likewise, albeit far less, like water from a thimble. It was the men that fed their souls.

So, the Svartalvar (informally known as Drow) taxed the humans of their young and created a servant underclass to make their lives easier, albeit well-cared for.

Some went willingly, and some did not. The queen, herself a mother, had mercy left in her heart to rotate, manumit, and return those who were determined to earn freedom and provide liveable care for her human slaves. After all, her husband was human, as it had been three generations. The humans were their cattle, and sick and unhappy cattle created little.

This vassalage, due to the Duchy's lack of contact with the greater Human Empire of Lescatie, had its counterduties too. The queen would send aid in bad harvests, finance road repairs (ironically done by human slaves under the tender, pleasurable lash of the overseer ladies) and send military help in Shadow Demon incidents.

The letter she received today would make her summon her scribe to write an answer for the ages. The Duchess had asked for a boon and pleaded for help.

And Melasa was nothing if merciful and generous to the poor humans who toiled for her glory.

*-*-*-*

To our Overlord, Merciful Svartalf Queen, Tauwananna Melasa,

Our personage is ever grateful for your protection, in return for an understandable tribute of human youth to supply your souls with essence. We are doubly grateful for the proper care of the unfortunate souls toiling for your glorious nation, the first generation of manumitted ones are content with their lives, some even returned to Your Equally Radiant Surface Cities to settle and marry "mamono", your monster-kin, some brought monstergirl friends and integrated back to our duchy.

But We, the Poor, Miserable Duchess Eleanor of Jourdefesse, have a plea for assistance:

The bourgeoisie of Our Humble Cities, the young middle-class ladies, and (sadly) some sons, have become irate, irrascible, spoiled, and no longer respect Our Authority. We have Cities and Townships where lawlessness teeters on the brink of Anarchy's Vile Claws, girls (alas, the fairer sex, we, have passions that explode when misled) openly defying authority, teachers and headmistresses crying in misery in the lack of obedience and lack of drive to study.

Would you be so kind as to send Shire-Reeves, or whatever Justicière your Highness to spare? I must admit our arrangement of vassalage damaged my authority.

I have paid with blood, even mine, to your daughter, to pay for the contract.

Please help, lest the angry youth rebel and trigger a war, calling Lescatie for aid and undoing decades of peace.

Your Loyal Vassal, Eleanor

PS: How is my son? Does your daughter treat him well? I shall break in twain and throw myself off the parapets if something happens to my boy, for I am miserable once your daughter asked for his hand and I could not refuse.

*-*-*-*

"Now glitter the scroll with powdered gems..." Melasa pointed to the small lockbox. "Sapphire, then use the resin around the edges, stick gold dust, and sprinkle crushed lapis lazuli after rolling and sealing the letter. Get it?"

The Royal Scribe, a dark elf as old as Melasa, blinked incredulously, her huge ears drooping at the expense of such a missive, to a human no less. The royal letters were all, by tradition, a work of art, so much that no human or other species were allowed to work them.

"Yes, Your Highness." She coolly replied, reaching an ebon hand into her voluminous robes to take the sacred gem-crusher, and went to work. The writing itself took an hour, using special ink from finely ground soot of the sacred underground volcano of Cheldrai, glue from a century-old snow leopard's bones, and perfume from a dryad. The ink was solidified in the shape of a rectangular stony token and aged for five years before being rubbed into an adamantine bowl and watered to be used in royal letters.

*-*-*-*

To my Beloved Vassal Eleanor,

This letter has troubled Our Personage and We have decided to send a cadre of Justicars, well-educated, strict Svartalvar with extensive knowledge of Our Laws and Customs to punish the ungrateful human subjects of yours who cannot understand Our Greatness and value of Your Just Vassalage.

Expect additional corporal punishment laws enacted within two months in troubled hamlets, villages, and cities: my Justicars are swift and ruthless in using well-measured blows to set your people right, and discipline fair human girls and boys with the utmost celerity. We trust You will provide appropriate lodgings for the justicars. We seek no further payment beyond their maintenance, and the tribute arrangement (One human boy and two human girls every twentieth household calculated per bi-annual census by our agents- to be taken as servants-) shall not be increased. However, the incorrigible transgressors may be taken as slaves to the Chel'drai Slave Market, with the consensus of the local magistrate. You will find that the threat of slavery will make your humans very docile if they know what is good for them.

Awaiting Your Approval As Custom Demands,

Your Overlord, Tauwananna Melasa

P.S: Your son is well, he lost weight and my darling princess is pregnant, as well as half of the palace staff, thanks to your son's virility. I might see your fair castle and bring our beloved royal couple for a visit as well after my princess gives birth to our granddaughters.

*-*-*-*

Two months later, the changes were apparent.

The first few weeks, when angry young girls in academies and schools screamed bloody murder were suddenly subdued, first, by wails of misery and slapping sounds, then bottomless girls facing walls in tears, reflecting on their mistakes as dark elven overseers smirked and made sure none left for home before reflecting on their errors for two hours, standing, shivering as their spanked, strapped or birch-beaten, plump, round and red bottoms.

Seeing the duchess' guards patrol and even approve the punishments of dark elven justicars, the horrible realization of helplessness filled the Duchy's young, wayward girls and boys. If the giggling, cruel dark elven ladies would punish them, the feeling of being forced to reflect in undress in front of gawking, male guards would be...

...horrible.

And knowing just that, the threat of being bottomless and watched over by horny, low-born male guards had quietened the poor young girls into silent, graceful acceptance of eroticized corporal punishment, like every cultural concept dark elves tended to corrupt and lewd ad infinitum.

And now, the chocolate-skinned sluts came to overtake law and order on the surface.

The weeping girls, owners of red, spanked, caned, and paddled bottoms could only quiver at the thought of dark elves enforcing their rules everywhere.

Every day, the sounds of wails, the crisp, loud sounds of hands, birch rods, paddles, and straps striking the soft, jiggling, exposed bottoms of young girls punctuated the failings of a rebellious, spoiled human youth, soon to be beaten into model citizens of the duchy, and loyal, well-behaved vassals of dark elven queendom. The evenings then would be livened by sobs and sniffles as the punished ones, stripped naked below the waist, would have to take obedient and well-choreographed positions in the Reflection Rooms, facing walls and thinking about what they had done.

The Drow Justicars had come, and the humans *had* to be good girls for the sake of their poor butts.

*-*-*-*

Hall of Justice for Wayward Girls, Town of Lilyrock, Duchy of Jourdefesse:

The newly built, brickwork structure loomed over the academy town,

an elegant, small statue of a curvy, blindfolded drow holding a scale gracing a pedestal at its entrance; it was painted as well, the drow wearing a beautiful, modest robe, barefoot, her lips and expression solemn and sad as she held a scale in one hand, a paddle in the other. Behind her was a smaller, granite statuette of a younger girl in a long dress, human judging by the round ears, her face hidden in shame by her long hair as she held her bottom.

The Drow, Svartalvar, Dokkalvar, or whatever people would call them, the dark elves always knew how to show off. Regular sounds of wails, sobs, and yelps could be heard, as leather straps, birch rods, or dark elven hands smacked the condemned girls' bottoms as visitors toured the building. Most punishments were meted out during the day and were done after an hour or two of bottomless "corner time reflection" ritual, but some long-term prisoners would be regularly spanked over the day to avoid permanent injury.

The Hall of Judgement was where the Justicar would overlook the accused and render judgment after hearing the suggestions and evidence from her underlings, a human, and a drow, in the spirit of fairness to both races.

"Guard, bring in the accused!"

The dark elf yelled at the top of her lungs (partially to terrify the accused), punctuating her accented Common with every consonant and banging her ceremonial staff. Said artifact was made from ebony, polished to perfection, and lined with onyx-and-gold linings filling grooves cut into the shaft, forming an elegant, gold-and-black ivy creeping towards the large sapphire orb topping it.

Justicar A'dalet, the most infamous of the dark elven "guests" in the human duchy, stood tall before the stand of the accused, flanked by a worried-looking human assistant Chloe, a young girl constantly adjusting her big, thick-framed glasses and combing her rich, blonde hair with her left hand, wearing the most risque, tight set of leather clothes showing off her curves, courtesy of the dark elven overlords.

At least the job paid well, though helping with condemning sweet young girls to be spanked and humiliated until their bottoms (and egos) were bruised made Chloe sad. On her right stood her assistant, a surfacer dark elf. Unlike A'dalet's purple-black Drow skin, the surfacer Svartalvar had more dark brown, chocolate-colored complexions, and softer, curvier bodies to match.

The young guardswoman, a tall, scary blonde with short-cut hair, dragged the young woman with bound wrists before the sneering dark-elven Justicar, shivering in her gentle, white sundress. The guard, a full-plate-wearing female human guard with short, spiky hair, had hooked her armored arm on hers to keep her in place.

"Joanna, Human, aged twenty-one. You are accused of stealing your colleague's writing implements, resulting in her failing the test and earning 10 spankings for failure. What will you say in your defense?"

The young woman with humble, shoulder-length hair that mercifully hid her teary eyes, muttered half-hearted apologies until the Justicar cut her off:

"Speak clearly!"

"I...I'm sorry..." The accused woman muttered a teary-eyed apology, her feet squirming under the mental pressure. The drow justicar raised one eyebrow, tapping her high-heeled boot on the waxed, wooden, fresh floor.

"And...?"

"It was a prank..." The girl sniffled, the Justicar rolling her eyes at the gesture. Her human assistant snuck in and spoke in a low voice:

"Joanna is a model student and has no transgressions in her records. Perhaps this merits a softer punishment?"

The Justicar scratched her chin. "Maybe. Val'eis?"

The drow assistant, a secretary with a skimpy pencil skirt and a shirt that revealed a bit more than modesty suggested checked her notes:

"True. However, her friend felt betrayed and we had to spank her. That still merits her friend's punishment added to her tally: she deserves it. And we should even invite the punished student and offer her to render the punishment herself or take part in humiliation. I also humbly suggest we offer her friend to re-take the test free of charge as consolation."

The dark elven justicar nodded. "An apt analysis. Add her friend Leslie's punishment to her own and give Leslie a re-testing as compensation. We cannot un-spank her...but..." Her purple lips curled in a cruel smile, and she drew a long breath, looking down at the shivering girl:

"GUILTY!"

Her short and crisp shout made the girl widen her teary eyes:

"Theft resulting in educational, emotional, and financial damage. I sentence you to twenty lashes on your bottom by birch rod, and ten by hand, your friend's punishment copied to your records as punishment. No blows will be added since this is your first conviction. Keep it up and the next punishment may be much more severe. Keep going and I might have to imprison you and lash you daily."

Joanna wailed as she heard the verdict of the painful instrument.

"Guard, escort her to the Punishment Room while I judge today's tally."

The young woman, who looked more like a muscular, sapphic heroine than a bored, not-so-well-nourished city guard, sighed, and frogmarched the weeping Joanne to a well-insulated room with a steel door, instructing her to take a seat and wait before locking the door. She then went into another room guarded by a dark elven spearmaid and escorted another young woman with a resigned expression. She was a young kitsune, her tail, and ears drooping with sorrow, dressed in a barmaid's low skirt with a cute hole in the back for her tail to poke through, and a puffy white cotton vest that seemed stained with a panoply of colors suggesting she dropped drinks.

"Miyoko, aged twenty-four. Dropped an entire tray of expensive champagne, plum wine, and cider, splashing the Svartalf merchants meeting the Duchy's tradespeople, as well as causing mayhem which caused monetary damage equaling at least seventy-five gold crowns." The drow squinted at the sad, dejected fox-girl. "What will you say in your defense?"

The kitsune barmaid sniffled, and looked down, already defeated.

"It's all my fault...I'm sorry...I am already fired from my job. I'm ruined" The fox-girl was in tears, her human features' tears adding to the stains of her shirt, and dripping down to her vulpine feet.

Both assistants quietly approached the Justicar.

"It's her mistake and only the first. Perhaps this time we can be, If I may say so, just a bit lenient. Please? She is already unemployed and might be evicted." The human archivist's plea was concurred by the eager nodding of the investigatrix drow.

The Justicar sighed.

"Perhaps..." She mumbled. "Poor thing is already a mess, but laws are laws. "Well..." She raised her voice, authoritative, yet still with a hint of understanding.

"Guilty of property damage. The monetary damage will come out of the magistrate's coffers in return for indenture as janitor of the Justice Hall minus food and lodging."

When the kitsune's teary face bloomed into a smile, the Justicar cut her short.

"Also twenty spankings with hand, due to unintended property damage."

Vulpine, peach-colored fluffy ears drooped again.

"Take her to the Punishment Room."

The kitsune walked herself, unbound and unrestrained, sullenly, to the end of the corridor with the guard following her. The Justicar said nothing.

"Next!"

A brunette was led inside by the arm. The guardswoman gestured for her to stand before the Justicar:

"Gertrude, aged twenty-six. Slapped a drow guard when she wanted to see her identification papers."

Justicar's drow investigatrix-assistant gasped in shock, her human assistant who would preach leniency winced and squinted, hissing. Said guard was quietly standing at another bench, her cheek red with a clear mark of an open palm with five fingers, her face surprisingly sad rather than angry.

This would be bad.

Very bad.

"What?" The Justicar blurted out, blinking incredulously. Turning her eyes at the angry human girl below, her voice was like rocks grating against each other when she questioned her.

"Did you have a death wish? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Gertrude was undeterred.

"She is one of your people, and is *not* my guard! Did we surrender entirely to your kind? Since when do you people come and harass peaceful humans going about their lives?" Her determined voice made the human assistant whimper like a dog, the investigatrix sighed and shook her head.

"We are going to need an undertaker for this..."

Justicar A'dalet sighed, holding her delicate nose with a manicured hand, her other hand grasping her staff as if she was going to break it.

"Then let me remind you before we proceed..." She growled, her ears peaking in anger. "We, the Drow, or Svartalvar, whichever you prefer, are your overlords. I was personally invited by your duchess, no less, to bring harsh law and order to wayward humans. Therefore, your ruler allowed me to punish humans as we see fit in our laws, since we Drow, the Svartalvar, are empowered by the Duchess herself. Now...do you have any more stupid arguments, or should I wait until you dig yourself deeper into the hole?"

The sudden petulance of the human girl, whose hands were tied in front of her, started to deflate.

"You were arrested after slapping an officially appointed street guard in broad daylight, just because she asked for your identification papers." A'dalet coolly spoke, her temper turning her voice to her usual cold, dominant, and flat tone.

"But...she asked for something no one carries around their person!" Gertrude's answer was deflated, yet still defiant. "Who carries sealed papers which cost a gold piece just to get a stamp-?"

"Someone who needs to enter the state university grounds." A'dalet cut her short, her lovely elven features contorting in annoyance. "You are ignorant of your very own laws, I see..."

Chloe raised her hand, whispering to A'dalet's ears. "We know she is guilty, but..."

A'dalet would have none of it. "Ignorance of the law is no excuse."

"But."

A'dalet's glare made Chloe swallow, go pale, and withdraw with a quiet step.

"We will talk about this attitude of yours later..."

The human assistant could only whimper. Val'eis shook her head when she saw Chloe mouth another argument, staring into the poor human's eyes as if saying "Don't"

"Physical assault on an official member of the law means twenty blows by the strap. And that is not even counting resistance to an official order, as well as the irresponsibility of civic duties when entering an official institute without relevant papers."

"I have rights!" Gertrude protested with an angry voice. "I will not be spanked like a child-"

"Then STOP acting like one!"

The Justicar's voice rose to a bellow, terrifying the poor accused girl, both assistants furiously gesturing her to zip it. A'dalet drew a harsh breath through her nose, ears heating up.

"Twenty straps for assault on an official, ten extra for disrespect, with a starting session of ten spankings by hand for not having relevant documents. The defendant will then reflect for the rest of the day facing the Cornertime Wall of Humiliation."

"No..." Gertrude opened her mouth, Chloe and Val'eis visibly tearing at their hair in frustration, fearing punishment not to scream "shut up", mouthing the words frantically to the accused.

"ONE MORE "BUT" AND YOU WILL HAVE CORNERTIME FULLY NAKED IN PUBLIC!" A'dalet screamed, slamming her staff. "And I haven't even *begun* to ask the guard you slapped for extra punishment!" The drow, fuming, turned to the injured party, a young dark elven girl in leather armor of human design.