Elven Princess Brigitte: Ravished

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consentual or reluctant sex.

Note: All characters in this saga are over the age of eighteen (18). No raccoons were harmed in the telling of this tale.

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Brigitte, elven princess, stretched her lithe body as she strode next to the man who had pleasured her the night before. Her flowing, golden locks of hair framed her noble, sweet and still innocent-looking face. Her luminous, gently-slanted, large eyes were like deep pools of blue liquid. Two long, tapered eartips emerged from the golden mane of hair that seemed to dance and bounce atop her head. Long, dark lashes framed her eyes, making them seem even more innocent and maidenly, and dark, delicate eyebrows cut a long, arching curve over her forehead.

Her lips glistened with red, full and pouty, a mouth slightly small for her delicate face, her nose dainty, and slightly upturned, a cute but also arrogant slant that gave her sweetly innocent face a tinge of haughty conceit. Her skin was near alabaster, the paleness making dark lashes and brows, and glistening red lips stand out in contrast.

Brigitte was five foot two, and had only recently turned eighteen. Her body was slender and lithe, as sidhe tend to be, but with flaring hips and a firm, pertly round rump. Her legs seemed long and willowy despite her short height, silken smooth and clad in silvered, spiderweb satin. Her stockings were clipped with a golden clasp to the satin ribbons of a garterbelt that cinched tight around her slender waist, the outline of which was visible under the near-sheer spiderweb satin, short-skirted gown that clung to her dainty body like a second skin.

The gown covered her modesty, but barely, every curve of her slender body clear through the near-sheer, sparking silvered spiderweb satin. Her gown was so tight, and near-sheer, that the outline of her scarlet panties, V-cut and high-waited, were visible both in front and tightly stretched across her pert, curved rear that swayed enticingly with her every step. Brigitte's dainty, bird-like arms flitted gracefully as she walked, her gestures emphasized by the ruby-red, gleaming, stiletto-tipped nails at the end of each of her long, slender fingers. Her delicate feet clattered on the cobblestones, shod as they were in a pair of sparkling crystal, stiletto-heeled slippers.

But her most prominent feature were her large, buoyant bosoms, firm yet light and bouncy atop her youthful chest. Her pert nipples stood erect atop each breast, evident through the light satin of her spider-silken gown. The skirt of her gown was slit up the leg and had a plunging neck-line, and a low-cut back. It was held to her by a simple golden chain that clung around her neck, and seemed to strain as if it might break with each bounce of her breasts as she sauntered down the cobblestoned street.

Brigitte skipped and sauntered alongside her man. The only man who had known her. He had taken her the night before, repeatedly. He was the chief of the Blademaster's Guild, the fighting order that stood vigil over the kingdom's broad, verdant lands. The blademaster stood only a few inches taller than her, clad all in black, she found him dashingly handsome. Her dream lover. She practically swooned in his presence. "Why are we here?" she asked him, however, in a sweet, lilting voice, smiling up at him.

They were at the very edge of town, the less reputable part of the city. All her life Brigitte had kept to the palace, and the noble quarter. She had never dared to come here. It was almost seedy. Especially in the dark of night.

"Because, my dear, this is the one part of town that your father's agents will not expect you to be. It is also the one part of town that cleric's eyes also won't seek you," her lover replied, jauntily. "We can have a little...fun together."

She giggled and snuggled next to him as they sauntered down the winding path. After a bit he pointed towards a large, oaken door set into the frame of what looked like a tavern or inn. Even from here she could hear the rise of laughter, boisterous carousing, from within. Not all of it the light, lilting voices of refined elven gentility. Some of it sounded rougher, cruder even. The guffaws of a heartier sort mixed with the light gaity of sidhe voices.

The blademaster seemed to want to open the door for her, but Brigitte was in a teasing mood. She skipped ahead with a giggle and a winking glance backwards at him, and opened the door herself, and strode in.

Only to bump into something hard and unmoving. "Rmph!" she squealed, her body bouncing off something -- someone -- warm but rough, her breasts squishing against it before rebounding a half-step back. Used to people giving ground before her, she set forth again without really looking. "Rmphh!" she squealed as she again ran into, and pressed against an unmoving bulk, her boyant breasts scrunching against what she now realized was a waist, her face looking eye-to-chest at a looming, well-muscled, masculine bulk looming over her. She realized this man, this person, this rough brute, must be over a foot taller than her man! Why, he even smelled musky, like beer and sweat, contrasting with her own aroma of roses and wine. She scrunched her nose. Her big eyes widened as she gazed up at him. The man had a mustachioed face! Why, he wasn't even elven! He was...human! He must have been about to exit, just as she tried to enter.

Brigitte realized all this in an instant, as her elven senses kicked in. Her large eyes stared into the looming brute's steel-grey gaze, and she gasped in surprise at the unexpected stranger. But she had already become aroused by his masculine presence. Her alabaster skin dimpled with goosepimples. Mamsina, whitish fluid that was a sure sign of a fertile female elves' arousal seeped, from her nipples. She could feel it soak through her gown -- and through the man's tunic -- filling the air with the scent of her sweet aromatic heat. She felt that heat rise in her depths to spurt into the tight, rose-pink slit between her legs, soaking into her scarlet satin panties. All at once the brute's hands hooked under her armpits and lifted her up, sweeping her into the tavern with a smirk and a guffaw.

As he lifted her, she felt her lower belly press against the bulge in his groin, covered though it was by a ragged wolf-pelt loin cloth. "Yeep!" she yelped with a gasp, her back arching slightly and her body bucking in his arms as she slid over his roughness. A spasming tingle ran up her spine and out her lips in another yelp, as her tiny hands bunched into fists, her cheeks flushing with an embarrassed blush as she shuddered in the man's grasp, another rush of her hot arousal shooting into the seam between her legs and soaking her panties with her aromatic carnality. "Well, look at the scrumptious morsel we have here!" the human chortled as he turned back into the building.

"Wait, unhand her" she heard call from behind, the urgent voice of her blademaster. Her dainty legs kicked out at the air as her body bucked and writhed in the human's grip. A gasp filled the tavern as every eye and nose could see and smell her wantonness. Only a sidhe woman's husband was supposed to see, much less arouse, the mamsina of an elven woman. Especially that of an princess of the royal house. Certainly no brutish...human. The man who manhandled her had a companion, however. As bulky and nearly as tall as the one who held her in his strong grip, he was a barrier between the brute and Brigitte. "It's just a bit of fun, chum" the brute's friend said as he blocked the blademaster off. But her lover would have none of it. "Put her down at once!" he called out, embarrassed by Brigitte's open display of her untamed libido. Ever since she had blossomed to womanhood, Brigitte had been easily aroused. Sexually insatiable. She spent long, lingering mornings and nights stimulating herself, even at the risk of being caught. Her arousal was heightened by the sense of being seen. Now, here she was, on public display in a tavern. This man who gripped her, this crude simply oozed a barbaric virility that Brigitte's nubile body had responded to instantly.

"Fine" the man said, setting Brigitte's rump down on the edge of a table. "Eep" she gasped, looking up at his rough, ruddy face. He gazed down at her, a knowing smirk on his face as his eyes drank her in, lingering on her jiggling breasts and then the wetness that had already soaked through her panties, through her gown, and was tricking into a pool on the table. She bucked and her back arched again -- her body seemed to long to be claimed by this stranger. She whimpered and her cheeks grew even redder with shamed longing. She tried to snap her legs shut, but instead her feet simply planted her heels on the edge of the table, slightly apart, as if waiting to be spread apart.

A hush of anticipation had fallen across the tavern. The patrons and even the staff seemed to be mesmerized by the sight and, especially, the aromatic scent of Brigitte's aroused state. They seemed almost entranced, watching raptly. The musicians had stopped playing. Even in Brigitte's wanton humiliation as she could not help but display herself to this man, she sensed the blademaster arcing around the man who obstructed him, rushing to her side. SLAM! His hand hit the table "I will not tell you ag—AAAHHHRRRR!!!" Deftly, a knife had appeared in the human brute's grip and just as deftly slammed down, pinning her lover's hand to the table. The knife sank through the blademaster's hand, cutting crosswise near the wrist, and was buried by his strength deep into the wood of the table.

At the same time, Brigitte gasped as she felt the human's other hand wrap around her slender ankle in a paw-like grasp! Her pert, round breasts popped from the top of her flimsy gown and bounced free in the tavern air, her rose-pink areolas puckering and her nipples stiftening to hard buds. A hush fell across the room. The Blademaster's free hand had, in the same instant, reached in a reaction up to try to draw the brute's knife from the table, but THUNK! The brute had filled his main hand with another knife, lightning fast, and plunged it into the Blademaster's wrist, pinning both his hands to the table.

Sensing the danger, Brigitte tried to slide away across the table. Onlookers gazed on, gasping, stunned, gazing in longing at the pair, the sylph-like elven princess writhing on the table and the primal human who loomed over her. The brute's fellow had drawn a sword from his belt, and waved it at the crowd. The virile human used his free hand to tug the wolf's pelt from the broad leather belt that held it to his loins, and let it fall to the tavern floor.

Oh. My. Luna. Was all Brigitte could think as she saw what loomed between his legs. The brute's manhood was over twice as long as her lover's, and thicker than her own forearm. The ruddy, purple-red, mushroom-like tip seemed to twitch at her gaze, almost as if it had a life of its own. It pulsed, slick, engorged, already beading out a pearlescent drop of what could only be his thick seed. Brigitte bucked on the table as the man slid her towards him, her free leg kicking wide, her breasts bouncing as a near fountain of her milky mamsina erupted from her. She cried out as the fluid showered her, and the brute's chest.

Despite the pain and surprise of the encounter, the Blademaster began incanting a quick evocation. He would rescue her even yet from the shame and degradation that awaited her. The brutish human grabbed the princess by both ankles and slid her towards the shaft. Her eyes saw only the twitching, massive tip of it, seeming impossibly large. As he pulled her to him her skirt rode up her thighs and hips, leaving her exposed below the waist, except for her delicate panties, soaked through with the slick, rose-and-wine scented evidence of arousal. The brute's leg lashed out and kicked the blademaster in the chest before he could finish his evocation! Her dream lover, the blademaster who she had given her maidenhood to, howled in agony, a whoosh of air forced from his lungs as he was kicked flying, crashing against a wooden post in the distance.

Brigitte whimpered. Her last hope of salvation from ravishment was gone. She would not be saved from being taken by this crude human. Right here in a common tavern. She whimpered as the realization that her body's craving for him overcame any reticence she might have had.

The brute slid his calloused, rough hands up Brigitte's soft, smooth legs as he slowly dragged her towards the shaft that awaited her. He crooked her knees over his elbows as he positioned the entrance to her depths right at the tip of his shaft, her slender calves wrapping themselves around his waist as he positioned himself between her smooth, milky-white thighs. She felt his fingers grip her soft thighs, and his thumbs hook under the thin straps of her scanty satin panties. One quick jerk cause the straps to give way, and he slid the moistened scrap from between her legs, tucking their remnants into his belt. His eyes were locked on the downy, soft golden patch of hair just above her womanhood as he clasped her hips again. Her eyes were still gazing at his shaft, and all the eyes in the tavern were gazing at the pair of them, the wanton princess splayed atop the table, and the brawny, well-muscled man about to sink himself into her tight, slick channel.

She whimpered again, and bit her lip as he finally pulled her hips into place till the tip of his shaft pressed her tight feminine lips apart. She gasped, a current of electric thrill running up her spine. Then a whimpering moan as he seemed to stop. He gazed into her eyes as she looked at his shaft. She couldn't take it anymore. Her hips bucked and she tried to slide him into her, but it was no good. In frustration, she let her head look up, her eyes looking into his, pleadingly. He gazed down at her petulant body with a knowing smirk.

"Please" she said, gazing down again and letting her golden locks fall over her head as she looked, longingly, at the object of her shameful desire. His pulsing lance. Positioned to batter through the tight, moist gates of the princess's private palace. She could barely hear the pained, stupefied, howling moans of her blademaster in the distant background as her first lover passed out from shock.

The moment seemed to stretch out. Brigitte feared she would not get the release she craved. Finally the human relented, at last merciful, he thrust forward with his hips while at the same time pulling her body onto his manhood, burying his shaft within her depths in one, long, agonizingly powerful thrust. As his pulsing, engorged, soft yet hard manhood stretched her tight womanhood and drove itself into her, Brigitte's response was instant. Her womb tightened on the man's shaft, then unclenched with a cascade of her climax as he slid his lance deep into her slick depths, as if he was sheathing it inside something he owned. Possessed. She fell back on her elbows, a ragged shout of sexual release filling the tavern, and her buoyant breasts shuddering as her body was wracked with a spasm of wanton abandon as he claimed her with repeated, slow but powerful thrusts. She felt his shaft twitch within her, and she couldn't help but writhe lasciviously, an elven princess impaled and exposed, spread out on a tavern table in the seedy part of town, right before the eyes of commoners and non-elves.

Her mind and ears fogged over. She could feel the man grip her by the waist. His hands were so large, and her waist so tiny, that his thumb-tips met across her tight stomach. She heard the slap of his hips against her thighs as his pulsing shaft filled her tight womb. The rhythmic slap of flesh upon flesh as he thrust in and out of her. She could even, barely, hear the howling cries of pain coming from her Blademaster in the background. But muffled, as if distant, as if she were already forgetting him.

Brigitte's slender legs kicked wide, then kicked at the air, Her knees were hanging over the elbows of the brute as he ravished her. Her mamsina squirted into the musky tavern air once more. The feel of him inside her, the rush of the moment, was all she could think of. Her womb clenched on his immense, veined shaft as it plundered her depths. She felt it deep inside her now. She had no idea, how...how far it could sink into her. The only sounds that could be heard now was the rhythmic slap of his hard flesh against her soft, round thighs as he took her, the sound of her ragged yelps as she moaned and gasped to every thrust, and his grunting breath as he gripped her tightly and thrust into her, as if driven mad with lust for her. Her. This human had found her irresistible. That is why this happened.

Finally, innocently naive, willfully impetuous Brigitte realized why elven princesses were kept sheltered. Yet, lost in the arousal, the carnal hunger of the moment, she did not care. She did not care about the onlookers, either. Elves and others watching in stunned rapture, smitten themselves by the scent of her and the sight of her being roughly taken. She fell back on the table, her breasts rocking and swaying. Her arms reached up to massage and squeeze them as the man beat into her. Another fountain of her mamsina showered into the air as she climaxed once more, her sheath clenching down on his shaft, then releasing with another rush of her sidhelien ambrosia.

Each thrust seemed to drive deeper into her, causing her body to fall back and writhe, drawing a surprised, achiningly pleasured yelp from her lips, her sheath tightening, clenching on him as he filled her. Finally, when she felt she could take no more, she felt her womanhood unclench and the man would slide his throbbing, engorged shaft from her. She would moan, a whimpering moan, as if pleading for more, her head falling forward. At last she would sigh as all but the tip of him remained within her. His hands would briefly relax slightly around her waist, as an axeman might when limbering up for another swing. Then his strong grip would tighten slightly once more and he would plunge himself back into her depths, burying his shaft inside her up to the hilt. A swordsman, not an axeman. He sank himself into her.

How long. How long would this go on. It felt like forever. It felt like mere moments. Brigitte lost track of time. She lost track of everything but their coupling. And the eyes. Many eyes, still mesmerized, still seemingly enraptured as they could not help but watch, gazing at the pair as this stranger imposed himself on the elven princess. The wine-like, rose-like scent of her climactic releases filled the air almost as strongly as the musky scent of masculine sweat and ale filled it. Brigitte's body bucked again, her nipples erect and hard, pointed towards the ceiling as another climax shuddered from her slender body. Her shouted yelp of release echoed through the otherwise still room, causing even the windows to shake, as if from the echo of thunder. But inside the tavern. She knew that amid the otherwise quiet tavern, people outside it could hear her. Yet no one seemed willing, or able, to enter and put a stop to this.

Finally her luminous eyes opened wide and she gazed down as the man's immense manhood pistoned in and out of her dainty body. The man tensed, his grip tightening, as if something was about to happen. His grunting thrusts ceased, and he seemed to still inside her. The lips of her womanhood were stretched, tight, tight, around it. It drove in and out of her.

The man grunted once more, she could feel him tensing. His hands tightened on her. She yelped. It hurt! She felt him bunch up inside her. It hurt a lot! But the hurt was tinged with submissive arousal -- he was going to fill her -- but also with...triumph. He was going to fill HER!