The Ears of the Elves
By Asso
Chapter Thirty-eight
Where it's about performances.
The Ears of the Elves
Chapter Thirty-eight
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The light.
The radiant morning light.
It enveloped everything.
It was warm.
Sweet.
It was... intense.
It did not hide anything.
The Princess blinked in its intensity.
No. It would not have been possible to hide in that light.
But... - she abruptly raised her head fiercely - … but she had no intention of hiding!
She breathed deeply.
She straightened her shoulders proudly.
The chain hanging on her forearm like a royal stole, the collar of slavery showing off around her neck like a precious regal necklace, she advanced resolute and majestic into the sun.
She moved away from the tent, in the open field. Behind her, the slight steps of the two handmaidens who were following her.
Her green eyes scanned the surroundings.
People.
Many people.
Humans.
Rather down-at-heel, in truth, but all dressed up as…
As warriors.
No sparkling armours, no shiny breastplates, no rutilant greaves or adorned and crested helmets. Leather jackets that had seen better times and rather threadbare leather pants, instead, not to mention the state of the footwears. And no helmets. Long hair, free in the wind.
But warriors.
Warriors, proud and determined. And fierce. In their ways and faces.
And, with them and among them, some women. Maidens. Elven and human. Not a few, actually. But not even many, after all. With her same collar. Dressed up exactly like Belle and Ta'har'en. And all of them definitely beautiful.
No one seemed to notice her presence. All, men and women, were engrossed in their businesses.
There were those who were caring about the horses.
Those who were sharpening the swords.
Those who were sharpening the tip of the arrows.
Those who were drinking.
Who were eating.
Who were resting.
Who were cooking.
And the women served their men.
Their men.
The Princess had this distinct impression.
They did not look like slave-girls. Despite their slavery collar and despite their revealing and significant apparel, they didn't look like that. They rather looked like women gleefully intent to help, each of them, their own men to do what these ones were doing. They were smiling and laughing and some of them squeezed or even stroked from time to time, with what appeared like a veritable demonstration of affection, the arm or hand of the respective master.
Who, ferocious and dark warrior or not, didn't shirk minimally to such a tender act.
While her mind was recording in surprise such an unexpected sight, the Princess continued to advance, her beautiful head raised proudly, her gaze prideful and like if careless of what surrounded her.
There was bustle.
A... busy bustle.
And not heavy nor gloomy.
But, gradually, as she progressively went forward among the people...
She sensed it.
She felt it clearly.
Slowly, little by little, the buzz ceased.
And she felt - she perceived it burningly - the eyes of everyone fixed on her.
The astonished gaze of all.
"Well, I'll bet! Well far from being a negligible spectacle! Let's say it clearly!"
"Husband!"
"Oh... ah... certainly nothing to do with the spectacle you are capable of offering to my eyes, my sweetness!"
"Mh..."
"And with no need to be... dressed in the way the Princess is undressed, sweetheart! Believe me!""
"Mh?""
"Well, I mean… bare or dressed, provocative or dignified, sexy o demure, you are the only spectacular woman for me!""
"Mh. Mh…"
"Do… do we go ahead, babe?"
"Mh… okay. Let's go ahead. But…"…"
"Yes?""
"Let's look at the substance, not at... the appearance."
"Of course, sweetness, of course!"
The Princess slowed bit by bit her pace, until she stopped, as she felt the blush arise to her cheeks.
She struggled to stem it. To restrain the tumult of her heart.
How... how had the little human slave said? Her beauty had not to feel shame!
So then... let's go!
She swelled her chest. Her florid, bare breasts showed off in all their sculptural loveliness.
Let's go!
The game started. Let's play it!
Without fear.
And without shame.
She started to move forward again, the damp freshness of the grass under her bare feet.
Slowly, this time.
And with deliberate... sensuality.
Still holding on her left forearm, gracefully bent, the chain hanging from her collar in the fashion of a precious garment. And letting dangle her other arm down, limply, along her side. And making sway, prettily but with decision, her pelvis at every step.
And the short, precious skirt made of nothing made its indiscreet work.
"My prized and esteemed Lord and Master!"
With some effort, Trip interrupted the reading.
"Y... yes?
"Would you mind removing from your eyes that horny look?"
"Ho... horny?"
"Just so."
"But... but... Honey, how the hell are you talking? From whom did you learn to use terms like that?"
An eye with the respective eyebrow rose together.
"Oh... well... I mean... vulcan doll, you should not absorb everything I say! I mean ..." Trip stopped. Better not to insist on this peculiar issue. Oh yes, definitely better. And yet... "But, sweetheart, would you like to explain how you did to see the... tone of my gaze, from your current position?"
The eyebrow and the eye came back down. "Do you remember, by chance, a certain Bond existing between us, my increasingly esteemed Lord and Master?"
"Ah, the Bond, of course, of course. How did I do not to think about it? "A mischievous smile appeared to his lips."You know, but think what a fool! - I have thought, quite simply, that, considering how much you know me and considering that we entered into the hottest part of the show offered by the Princess, you had smelled out that my gaze..."
"So I'm not mistaken!"
"Ha ha! So the Bond has nothing to do with that, huh? You just assumed that my look was horny. You continue to doubt me, my sweet heart of my heart."
T'Pol twisted her head upward and looked scowlingly at her insolent Human. "And am I wrong?"
"Yes, that is no, that is yes! Oh, in short, I ..."
"You what, my more and more esteemed Lord and Master?"
"Oh, well, T'Pol! It's true; I admit it, but ..."
"Trip! Remember that only I can hold your hand where you hold it now! And that only my breasts can be caressed by you!"
Eh? Oh for God's sake! This meant speak bluntly!
"But T'Pol! Sure! What the hell! Nevertheless you can not demand me not to feel what a man feels by picturing in his mind the... the performance the Princess is offering!"
Trip had barely finished speaking that it began to occur. And, in a way, it could not be otherwise.
T'Pol had thought of it as something she could even have been wanting to do, one day the other, for him. And… and honestly for herself too. For her own pleasure. The pleasure to give him even that. And to permit herself even this.
But now the time had come to actually do it.
Now!
Exactly Now!
And, in very truth, a thin voice inside her whispered to her that it was not at all the fault of her Pon Far.
Suddenly and vehemently she got up, literally sending Trip upside down to the ground, PADD included.
He did not even have time to realize what had happened.
He raised his head from the floor to watch T'Pol with astonished eyes
And, in seeing her, his gaze became even more astonished.
T'Pol - naked, proud, wondrous - was smiling!
Just like that!
But that smile... that smile...
Trip felt a thrill running along his back! A thrill that he was not even able to classify whether pleasant or not.
What… what was she going to do, that logical headless of his unpredictable vulcan doll?
Well. Certainly he would never have imagined what that inenarrable kissy doll of his vulcan better half had intention to do.
A quick, fluid, harmonious movement. And the forgotten blanket wrapped her gorgeous body. Completely. With no longer letting it be seen anything of the matchless and seductive loveliness before in full light.
Even the head was hidden. Just the face - just that - was still showing off. Still with that strange and enigmatic smile illuminating it.
Then... the blanket started to move.
T'Pol's body began to move!
It could be seen from beneath the blanket.
The hips. Which arched and swayed, hidden yet evident, pulling tight the unsuspected and improvised garment.
And the legs. The shapely thighs. Which moved with gracefulness from beneath it, showing, now and then, glimpses of their buxom beauty when the flaps of the blanket lifted under the push of the sensual rocking of T'Pol's pelvis.
T'Pol... T'Pol was dancing!
How the hell she was capable of dancing - and of dancing that dance! - well ... this was one of the mysteries that made her what she was.
But anyway, this was!
T'Pol was dancing!
And she was dancing a lithe dance of seduction!
Even more seductive and provocative in the immobility of her arms, which were not moving, which simply, hidden under the blanket, held up it, the only tenuous barrier between her naked loveliness and the gaze of the one for whom the dance was getting performed.
But Trip did not have time or way to realize.
The dance... it was not just a dance!
It was something more. Much more!
Slowly, without stopping those spectacular and sensual dance moves, barely discernible from under the blanket, T'Pol revolved on herself, still swinging sensually her pelvis.
Until she remained with her back toward Trip.
Then...
Then the dance stopped.
The blanket fell with lightness and settled down without moving around T'Pol's body, which remained motionless under it.
A long moment of bated immobility, then her hands let themselves be seen, from above her shoulders that he could see only from behind.
Slowly, the hands moved languidly.
They made so that the blanket went down.
T'Pol's nape appeared.
Then her neck.
Then the upper part of her bare shoulders.
The hands stopped.
They disappeared under the blanket.
It was the shoulders that began to move, as if, now, it were only them, her well-shaped shoulders, to dance.
Gracefully.
With sensuality
The blanket went down again.
One shoulder was discovered. Completely.
Then, gradually, also the other shoulder.
T'Pol's body moved lissomly.
The blanket moved again. She went down.
It went down again.
Centimetre by centimetre the naked back of T'Pol appeared at the sight of Trip.
All of it.
Until her hips.
On them, on their appetizing roundness, the blanket stopped again, propped up by the invisible play of T'Pol's hands.
At that point the dance started again.
The sinuous hips resumed to oscillate.
And slowly, very slowly, T'Pol turned back on herself again.
Until to show herself in front of Trip.
Naked by well below the navel up.
Covered by the blanket, held up by her hands, by just above the mount of Venus down.
The smile on her lips was still there.
The smile - and the look - of a bewitching siren.
The lithe dance continued.
Her hands opened.
The blanket fell down. It piled to the ground around T'Pol's feet.
Completely naked, still with that smile and with that gaze, T'Pol continued to move as if being dancing, making her hips sway sensually and moving her legs in elegant and sensuous movements without shifting herself a centimetre from where she was.
Her arms rose slowly.
They went up, twisting serpentine figures, until to be aloft above her head.
And at that point, the dance stopped.
And T'Pol stood motionless.
In that position.
Naked and wondrous.
And tremendously sensual and seductive.
The impish smile didn't abandon her lips nor did the soft and tempting gaze disappear from her eyes as her voice, low and husky and sensual, let itself be heard.
"What do you think of my own performance, my Husband and Lord? Can it rival that of the Princess?"
If Trip took a lot of time before he could answer, well... surely there's not to remain amazed, nor, much less, there is to be surprised if he - glued to the floor, unable to get up, eyes wide open in the wonder and in the splendour of T'Pol's sight - was just able to speak with the most gibbering of voices.
"I... I... I... th... th... think the Pr... the Prin... the Princess ha... ha... has r... r... really a l...a l...a lot of ground to c... c... c... cover before reach... before reach... before reaching th... th... the millionth part of your... of your... of your a... a... astounding performance, T'Pol!"
Motionless, if not for the alluring movement of her bare breasts, in one with her breathing; naked and beautiful like a Greek statue; her arms still raised above her head; the smile of Mona Lisa still lingering on her turgid and tempting lips; T'Pol replied in a soft tone and yet still sensuous as never.
"Understandable, she's yet well far from being completely me. Do not you think, my Lord?"
"I... you... she..."
T'Pol's arms went down until to cross on her chest. Her smile disappeared. Her eyes sparkled dangerously.
"So do not seek in her the very little of the very much that you can find in me."
Trip stood silent for a long time, his eyes fixed in the sparkling eyes of T'Pol.
Then, finally, he got up. Slowly. And slowly he approached her up to being in front of her.
Of her gorgeous naked body.
And naked like her.
His expression was serious and even a little alarmed.
And serious his voice. And thoughtful.
"I have to well understand how to handle your Pon Far, T'Pol."
And, at that moment and at those words, T'Pol's expression changed suddenly. Her eyes still sparkled, but it was a twinkle made of softness.
She threw herself on Trip. Her arms encircled him.
Her head leaned over his chest.
Soft and sweet it resounded from there.
"My Pon Far has nothing to do with my performance, Trip."
"Uh?"
"It is the expression of what I feel for you."
"T' ... T'P... T'Pol!"
T'Pol's head lifted. Her eyes stared at those of Trip with a tenderness and yet with an ardour, even, beyond description.
"I want to be everything to you, Trip. Not only your vulcan wife in facts. I want to be your lover, your concubine, your love slave, your sexual play. Your sex doll. Your sex toy. I want to be yours in all the ways it can be. Even your sex fantasy."
"Y... y... you..."
"And I do not want nor I can tolerate to have rivals in this as well as for anything may pertain to you." The ardour in T'Pol's eyes took definitely the upper hand. "Real or invented that this rival may be; existing or present only in your mind. I and only I, want to, can, have to turn on and satisfy your cravings, whatever they are. I, just me. Not even another myself."
The ardour grew even more. It became burning. It didn't even allow Trip to think of trying to stammer anything.
"Because no one - never - real or invented, existing or present only in your mind, will ever be able to feel for you what I feel for you. Nobody. Never. Not even another myself. Past or future. In this as in any other universe. Or even present, now, in any other universe."
Stammering out something? It was not even possible to manage to think of something, for Trip!
And the ardour in the eyes of T'Pol grew even yet. And a sudden glow - blazing and, together, mischievous - made it even more intense.
The smile - that smile - reappeared on her fleshy lips, half-closed, enticing.
"And…"
It was a matter of a moment. Trip did not even realize.
He found himself on the ground, on his back, with T'Pol lying on him, her turgid lips - and wishful; and tempting - less than a millimetre from his.
He had even to struggle to really grasp what her hoarse and sensual voice was saying.
"… And no one - never - real or invented, existing or present only in your mind, not even another myself, past or future, in this as in any other universe or even present now in any other universe, will ever be able to give you the smallest of proofs that I am a liar by virtue of a performance even remotely similar to the performance that now I will put into practice to prove to you the truthfulness of what I say."
And her lips caressed his.
"A hell of a performance."
And her lips fused with his
And, in a sudden and inevitably transient resurgence of lucidity, Trip comprehended that he would have to wait for not a short while before he could discover in detail the Princess' performance.
End of Chapter Thirty-eight
TBC
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Eh, these performances!