Spaning of an Elf Priestess

On the Prince's twenty-first Name Day, the cobblestone streets, worn different shades of grey from years of horse hooves and human feet alike, were strewn with bright pink petals as the entire city erupted in celebration. That morning, King Alexander and his wife Queen Alyise had led the Founding Parade. Soldiers lined in arrays fifty deep all marched in unison, their batons waving to and fro scant inches above their black helmeted heads as they marched the symbolic journey of the First Family from harbor to castle. Those bearing witness to this homage had heads inclined in respectful difference for the journey that had founded their home.

After the Parade, one man would be singled out for the highest exultation; a blessing from the Royal Family itself and a promotion to the Captain of the Guard.

Only after the formalities concluded and the King and Queen retired for the night, could the Courting of the Prince begin. The tradition allowed common girls to act out various activities, such as presenting Prince Williams with gifts or asking him to dance, which he nobly played along with every year. Each Name Day resulted in villagers coming to pay respects on bended the knee and to their future king.

This year there was one glaring exception to the merriment. The Elves not paid tribute, nor even acknowledged his royal highness' special day. It was an insult to be sure. Some said it was intended. The elven priestesses had never taken kindly to the royal family. King Alexander told the nobles who asked that it was due to a misinterpretation between the customs of two very different races.

Regardless, his majesty the king had decided to make an example of and summoned their leader to court. Their most beautiful holy sovereign. The high priestess herself.

"Open the door in the name of the King!" Thomas Silvercloud Captain of the Guard himself had come to summon the priestess for her audience with the King. The move was not without gravitas and some had gathered to witness her summoning already.

A small serving girl appeared, her dress made of purple flowers that kiss against her light complexion. Her green eyes looked at the gathering of soldiers with a furrow in her brow that troubled the light grey teardrop shaped birthmark at her brow. The way her back stiffened when she took in their plated uniforms with a golden sun crest above the right breast said she knew who they were.

"If you follow me, I'll lead you to my Lady." The title was awkward in her mouth, her curtsy was stiff and unpracticed. She gestured for the visitors to follow her down a long hallway to a set of wooden double doors. It was there she took her leave. Silvercloud pushed his way through the doors to what, at first glance, appeared to be a throne room.

A wide expanse of marble floor held no furniture except for a golden altar at the far end of the room. Not a single candle lit the room, the way it did at the palace. Instead, an opening where the ceiling should have been allowed the hot noon sunlight to bear down on their heads, making some of the younger guards shift uncomfortably at the sunlight lightly cooking them in their metalware.

At the far end of the room there was a figure kneeling at the base of the altar, holding up her hands. If prayer accompanied those words, the words were too weak to travel to the guests at the opposite side of the room and remained for the speaker only.

Thomas held up a hand to stop his men's progression into the room. This was his first time inside the elven sanctum and, as such, not the time to proceed with reckless abandon.

"Look. Listen. Assess. Act."

Instead, he held one hand on the pommel of the sword at his left hip and called out to the figure.

"We are his Majesty's Royal Guard and we have been instructed to escort you to the Palace for your audience with his Royal Highness. You have failed the terms of your agreement when you failed to pay the Prince his proper respect for his Name Day. His Majesty would prefer that you come willingly. But that is, of course, up to your discretion alone. However, I feel it is my duty to tell you that that would be ill advised."

The responding voice was quiet but loud enough to be heard from across the tile expanse, crisp words finding their mark.

"I am Elanor Horne, High Priestess of the Elves, Protector of our Lands and Provider of Sanctuary." Rising from her position in front of the altar, she slowly turned to face her audience. Lowering her hood, revealing a mass of curls of such a dark brown they were almost raven. The priestess was a good deal shorter than the captain of the guard and the soldiers flanking him. But that didn't prevent her green eyes from seeking Thomas's out as she strode towards him on even footfalls. "Sanctuary my people would not need if your King and Princeling were to hold to their word to preserve our lands."

Her arms spread as she came closer, indicating the room. The vines that crept up the walls, dead leaves litter the ground.

"They have failed to protect my forest." She sketched a mocking bow curled lip, baring teeth, eyes glittering with hatred "So you'll forgive me if I don't weep for joy at the young brat's Name Day." The captain was presented with the back of her white robe once more as she raises her hood once again. "I assume you'll- "

"Arrest her." said Captain Silvercloud, almost casually. He seemed bored by her and two of the six guards he brought with him advanced on the elf maiden, hooking their arms underneath hers, lifting her to her feet and spinning her around.

"I had hoped for a simple summoning, Lady Horne." The Captain approached her as he spoke, his ceremonial plate clinking as he moved across the floor. Any place of worship or leader therein failing to acknowledge the birthday of any of the royal family is an insult to His Majesty the King." He grabbed her by her chin as he finished. "Insulting his royal highness, the prince is a crime, which I and six others," A vulpine smile creased his lips as he motioned to his men. "Have borne witness to."

The guards chuckled at this and so did their captain. He let go of her then, but not before shooting his men a discreet warning look to keep them from leering at their charge's ample curves.

"Outside." The two guards acknowledged both look and order, then escorted her out into the hallway where the serving girl had long since left to fetch others in the Temple. A pair of warriors stood with their arms crossed, shoulder to shoulder as they glowered at the soldiers leaving the room.

Thomas's hand went to unsheathe his sword in the heartbeat it took for him to assess the scene. His men had only had the time to tense their muscles in the time it took him to do so. Their briefing before embarking did not include how to handle resistance from anyone besides the lady.

The High Priestess's disciples moved to stop the guards from taking their mistress, but she cut them a look and shook her head, silently telling them that their interference would not be necessary. While she hated the thought of stroking Silvercloud's ego, it is not due to any sort of reverence to him or his King. Rather it was the assurance that she could handle herself.

Horne wrenched her arm away from the guards.

"I will come with you," she said, partially to assure them and partially for her people. Her voice was an icy lake meant to douse the fiery spirit of the soldiers and any similar feelings in their potential challengers. She was a servant of the Gods and a leader to her people. This merited respect. "There's no need for all of this."

Elanor turned to address Silvercloud directly.

"Can we proceed?"

Silvercloud simply gestured the direction to the palace. "After you, my lady."

...

"Mistress Horne," the King bellowed, his voice as iron as the crown on his head. "You have insulted my son on his special day and, ordinarily, I would forgive this impunity with a mild sentencing." His face contorted as his temper rose. "But this new news of your slandering his Royal Highness leaves me no choice but to sentence you to ten lashes at court, to be carried out immediately."

"Your Highness," the priestess said with a sneer. "I would hope you weren't foolish enough to think that I would suddenly submit to your authority."

A flick of the King's fingers and the guards were on the elven woman, each taking her under the arm and bending her forward. There was a hush as the captain himself approached her from behind and lifted her robes to reveal her bare ass.

"Ten lashes, my lady." He said, almost soothingly. "I'll spare the whip and use my hand. Any last words before I begin?"

Horne turned her head to Silvercloud as she felt his presence behind her. Her voice lowered to a whisper so that only he could hear.

"I hope you enjoy yourself, Captain." She gently shook her hips, so her ass cheeks danced, lightly tapping against his armor. "Even though we both know you wish you could do more."

Raising her voice once more, she turned her head to face the throne. The King raised a goblet full of wine in both a salute to her and an indication that Thomas should begin.

"Do your worst."

The knight smirked and wound up and slapped her right ass cheek hard. There were gasps from the court at the sound. "One," announced the captain.

A second smack reverberated off the marble of the hall before a red palm print began to form. "Two." A third - "three" - and fourth - "four" - blow fell and one female courtier fainted at the sight and sound, so erotic and violent the spectacle was for her to behold. A fifth blow slapped, and the captain privately admitted he was gratified at the red blotch now obvious against the priestess's porcelain skin. He shifted behind her, switching sides and hands. "Doing alright down there, your Holiness?"

Unlike the rest of court, Elanor was no wilting lily. While she did flinch, she certainly never cried out after each punishing spank. To do so would've been to give her punisher too much satisfaction. However, she was perversely pleased when she heard one of the ladies faint dead away from the shock of what she was witnessing in the Great Hall. Perhaps the display was too much for the nameless noblewoman. The sight of reddening skin, jiggling thighs and air slight with sexual tension.

Smack! "Six!" Then a seventh blow landed. "Eight!" The Captain was enjoying himself now and licked his left palm before delivering the ninth blow, hoping to make it sting that much more. "Nine!" He wound up hard for the final blow. "Ten!"

The captain blew on his hand to relieve the burning sting after pulling the white robe down over her round ass. "The sentence has been carried out, your Majesty."

"Well done, Captain." The King turned to the priestess. "You may leave now, your Holiness."

One boy, often called impertinent by his mother and worse by his father, peeked at the spectacle from behind a curtain. He had heard from the cook that there was to be a punishment today. While he had hoped he would finally get to see a beheading, what he got was something much different. Mat notice a subtle shift as the spanking came to a close. The slight rubbing together of the priestess's thighs. How the soldier's hand came away slightly moist (from something other than his own spit). Once her robe was replaced, after Elanor shot the King's ilk a condescending smile with a regal wave, she slipped her golden ring onto the finger of the man who had just warmed her bottom so thoroughly. Her eyes invited him to return the token to her later.

"Well, I'm sure his Majesty enjoyed the show." The priestess bellowed before sketching a cheeky bow. Turning on her heel, she headed for the door, but not without calling over her shoulder.

"Hopefully it'll give you troglodytes something to get off to tonight. Maybe if your hands are full, you'll leave my people alone."

As the priestess left the court, there began many conversations about what had happened on that day. Conversations became rumors and rumors became stories of how the lady endured her punishment. Some would say she whimpered and submitted. Some would say she moaned with pleasure and writhed with pleasure between the three guards, her thighs slick with her own juices. One thing was true: that event on the Prince's name day set a path through a series of salacious events that would become legend.