Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Elfgirl and the Ranger (M/g fantasy spank reluc romantic)

   Written by cc



   The elfgirl shivered as she hid amongst the rocks.  She could hear the
orcs below her, down the slope, calling to each other as they searched for
survivors.  There must have been different breeds of goblins working
together, for they used the Common Tongue.  But their harsh laughter and
rough cursing made it sound as evil as their own languages.

   She had barely escaped their clutches after the disaster the day before,
when the company of wood-elves she had been traveling with was waylaid. 
Most of the others had been killed, or taken away in chains by the orcs. 
She had wandered a little off from the caravan before the attack, and had
hidden behind some rocks when it began, shutting her eyes and plugging her
ears to ward off the horror.

   She was an orphan, unusual amongst the elves, who did not die of
'natural' causes, although they could be killed.  She was being taken to
her distant relatives in Rivendell having been attached to the caravan by
order of the Woodland King.  It was a trip that would take many weeks under
ordinary circumstances.  Now it looked as if she would be lucky to survive,
let alone make it to The Last Homely House.

   She was not herself a Woodland Elf.  She was a High Elf; she knew of
Elbereth, and could speak a little of High Elven, but not much.  Hers was a
strange history...

   [SWACK!] "AAAA!" the little elfgirl cried out, as the switch striped her
bare bottom.  Her tormentor just chuckled, and brought it down again onto
her bottom, then across the front of her thighs.  [SWISH- SMACK!]
"O-O-O-OH!" she yelped piteously as she danced from foot to foot, her
bottom and thighs reddening.

   Finally he was done, tossing the switch aside, and seizing her bare
bottom in his hands, kneading and working her tender flesh as she moaned
and whimpered.  His fingers strayed between the cheeks of her buttocks...

   How had she come to be with him?  She couldn't really remember. 
Something traumatic had happened, perhaps.  She could remember her name:
Athelia.  She could remember some High-Elven, but only what a little child
would know.  She appeared to be about 8 or 9 years old, though it was
different with elf-children; they usually did not reach 'teenage'
development for decades.  From snatches of memory she thought perhaps that
her parents had been killed, probably by Men who had waylaid them on a
journey.  She must have been taken as a slave by them; at any rate she was
one now.

   The Man who owned her could have been worse.  He did not overwork her,
indeed her duties were fairly light: wait on table, some cleaning.  He had
three children, but they were a little older, and paid no attention to her,
except to hand her their dishes or dirty laundry to wash.  He had no wife;
the elfchild didn't know why not.  For as long as she could remember, which
was not very long, he had punished her on any flimsy excuse.  He was not
brutal: he never drew blood, or even left lasting marks.  He was content to
redden her thighs and bottom, and listen to her yelp.  Lately he had begun
to finish her punishment by massaging her little body, and his straying
fingers imparted strange feelings to the little elfgirl, her
heartbreakingly slender body swaying in her tormentor's arms as she gasped
and moaned under his ministrations.
She knew no other life.  Somehow she realized that she was being abused,
but had no way to get out of it.  She vaguely was aware that there were
other elves, but she knew nothing of where they were or how to get to them.
So she endured her bondage, and even found pleasure in the Man's treatment
of her at times.  She found herself making up little ways to earn
punishment, just so that she could feel his fingers on her unfledged elven

girlcleft, making her moist and strangely warm.

   But before the Man could take his abuse any farther along, her life
suddenly changed again.  The Woodland King was aware of the Men dwelling
near Mirkwood, and knew that, while some (mostly descendents of the
Beornings) were good men and true, many were bent on wickedness.  He
learned that they even kept elves among them as slaves.  This could not be
born!  A company of Woodelves soon descended on the village.  After a brief
but sharp battle, the Men were defeated and the captives freed.

   The little elfgirl now found herself in wonderful circumstances.  To a
High Elf her treatment might have seemed mundane; no one fawned over her,
or made much of her.  She was well fed, given good, if plain, clothes to
wear, and a small room.  She met the Woodland King, briefly, and was
informed that they would send her to Rivendell, where it was presumed she
had relatives (High-Elves being found nowhere else but there and at the
Havens, and how would an elf from the Havens make it all the way to the
borders of Mirkwood, after all?) as soon as was possible.

   So it was that she eventually found herself riding with the caravan
across the Misty Mountains, only to be plunged again into fright and
danger. She huddled into herself, willing the orcs to leave...

   She might have slept, or passed into the trance-like state that served
for sleep among elves.  She came to herself to realize with a start that
all was silent around her, save for the crack of stone and the occasional
lonely cry of a bird, wheeling high above her.  She cautiously peeped
around the rocks, to see no one in sight.  Silently she crept from her
hiding place and scouted the area.  It was empty of orcs, goblins,
hobgoblins, or any other kind of enemy.  She nearly fainted with relief.

   With anxiety about the orcs fading, she became more aware of other
needs. She slipped behind a rock again (although there was no one around to
see her) to relieve herself.  Then her hunger and thirst smote her.  The
latter need was easily met; a stream flowed across the path the caravan was
following a few hundred yards back.  When she had drunk her fill, her
hunger reasserted itself.  She nibbled on a few berries, but it wasn't
enough.

   She decided to continue along the path, but not directly on it, lest the
orcs return.  All that day she saw no one, and she rested curled up in some
bracken, a cold, miserable night, barely willing to close her eyes in fear
of the enemy.

   The next day she continued alongside the path.  She had not gone far
when she became aware of a marvelous smell; a campfire, and food cooking!
She tried to keep herself from hurrying, so that she could remain noiseless
in her movements, with limited success.

   She did not realize she was so close to the spot, when she nearly
stumbled into a clearing, catching herself and halting just in time in a
nearby thicket.  The fire was in the middle of the clearing.  It was small,
but well-tended.  In various places around were the articles of camp; a
bedroll, some bundles, haunches of meat hung in the branches, a loaf of
bread.  At the fire, turning some meat on a spit, was a tall, lean Man. 
His back was to her.

   She didn't know what to do.  She was too terrified to simply present
herself to the Man.  What if he was no better than her former Master?  But
even at that thought, deep down there was a stirring, unacknowledged by the
elfgirl consciously, brought on by the recollection of the things her
Master had done to her, and how they had felt.  Even after she had been
rescued by the Elves, she had often recalled those things, lying on her
little cot at night, her hand straying towards her girlcleft...

   But she daren't reveal herself to this Man.  Yet she was mortally
hungry. She determined to try and steal some food.  She crept into the
clearing behind the Man's back.  Cautiously she made her way towards the
loaf of bread, just a few feet away, lying on a blanket.  As she reached
down for it, suddenly she felt her wrists seized by strong hands!

   "So, a little campthief, is it?!" the man barked.  She squealed and
struggled in his arms, but she might as well have fought a tree.  He paid
no attention to her kicks and yells.  "Little campthieves get punished!" he
declared, and without further ado he looped a thong around her wrists,
tossed it over a branch, and pulled her arms into the air until she was
standing on tiptoes.  "Naked!" he added, effortlessly tearing her tattered
tunic from her slender body.

   He pulled his wide leather belt from around his waist and swung it
sharply against her buttocks.  [SWACK!] "AAAAA!" she cried out, and
"AAAH-AAAAH-AAAAAAH!" again and again as he whipped her repeatedly on her
trim bottom cheeks, bringing a fetching flush to the surface.  As he swung
the belt, the edge would snap on various places, one cheek or the other,
her tender anus, and sometimes wandering around her hips to punish her
unfledged mons.  Although she was greatly distressed to be so exposed and
punished by a strange man, some unconscious part of her was responding
more...favorably.  Willy-nilly she found herself pushing out her bottom to
receive the strokes to her posterior, and arching her back, thrusting her
cleft and mons out for those that fell towards the front.

   At first The Man didn't notice anything else, so intent was he upon
punishing a little thief.  But suddenly he came to himself, as it were, and
realized what was going on.  Even as he swung the belt, he drank in the
heartbreaking slenderness of the little elfgirl, her little nipples atop
mere buds, barely breaking the plane of her chest, her unfledged girlcleft,
peeping out from between her sweet thighs.  He noticed almost without
realizing it the contradiction in her actions: she moaned and cried out in
distress, yet writhed and responded to his ministrations as if they were
stimulating to her.  Indeed, it appeared as if, indeed it was so: she was
climaxing even as she was whipped on her buttocks, anus, and cleft!

   Then it broke upon him almost as a thunderclap what she was; he was
disciplining not a little campthieving human girl, but a High Elven
girlchild!  He threw the belt down, cut the thongs around her wrists with a
practiced slice, tossed his cloak about her, and gathered her onto his lap
as he sat down beside the fire.  He rocked her to and fro, soothing her,
stroking her hair, even as she sobbed out the last of her preteen orgasm,
shuddering and trembling.

   Some broth was simmering in a small pot next to the fire.  He snagged it
with a long arm, and tenderly offered a spoonful to the elfgirl.  She
swallowed it eagerly, and scarfed the rest as quickly as he would allow her
to; he slowed her only to make sure she did not sicken herself taking too
much too soon.

   When she had consumed what he would give, she swayed sleepily in his
arms.  "Fear not, little one," he said, "I am a Ranger of the North." She
cocked her head quizzically; he realized, to his surprise, that the term
meant nothing to her.  "It means I am a friend to the High Elves; you have
nothing to fear from me.  Sleep now without care; I will be on watch." With
that he laid her down in his bedroll, covered her up to her chin, smoothed
her hair off her face and kissed her forehead, and faded out of the light
of the fire to stand guard.  She was asleep before he had left the
campring.

   She awoke to broad daylight, and a delicious smell.  Eggs!  Bacon!  The
Man was spooning them from a pan onto a wooden trencher even as she sat up.
"Hungry?" he inquired, superfluously; she was clearly ravenous, pausing
only to slip behind a rock to relieve herself before scurrying back to the
campfire to devour the rations he offered her.  He looked on, a satisfied
smile on his face.

   So the little elfgirl entered a new phase of her life.  The Ranger
questioned her gently, and she answered him guilelessly, until he knew all
she had to tell about herself, omitting nothing.  She didn't know enough to
hide from him the details of the treatment she had received at the hands of
the Man who owned her for a while.  He listened to her describe the
feelings she had experienced during the strict, intimate discipline with an
outward display of disinterested calm; inwardly he was intensely aware of
her reaction even to the retelling; her breath came short and her mouth
dry; she seemed to tremble and her voice shook, but not with fear.

   In turn he explained to her that the Rangers were the remnant of the
half-Elven of the North, descendants of her own forefather, Earendil.  Yet
they were only distantly related since, unlike the immortal elves, the
half-Elven were still Manlike.  Though they lived a span of years beyond
those of mere men, in the end they died and passed out of the world. 
Indeed, while the elfgirl remained still outwardly a preteen, the Ranger
would grow old, and would probably die when she appeared to be a young teen
at most, if he avoided violent death before then.

   He gave her a few days to rest, then broke camp, heading over the pass,
making for Rivendell.  She was fascinated at the lore he possessed, which
he shared freely with her, trying to bring her "up to speed" on her
heritage and background before they reached Rivendell.  She absorbed his
stories avidly, and pleased him with her quick mind and perceptive
questions.  Indeed, except for the minor irritation of an occasional
behavioral lapse, she was very pleasant company.

   However he soon discovered that the elfgirl was unlike the HighElven
children he had known.  She had lived for long among Men, and had forgotten
whatever upbringing she had among the elves, absorbing rather the behavior
patterns common among Mankind.  Discipline problems were unheard of among
the elves, but the little elfgirl, while perhaps well-behaved compared to
the average human girl, still misbehaved at times.  Cajoling and pleading,
reasoning and threatening seemed to do no good, and discipline was
important; they were in dangerous territory, and the Ranger had to rely on
the elfchild to obey instantly.

   In the end he decided to apply corporal punishment, reluctant as he was
to do so.  His reluctance stemmed not only from the fact that it was
unheard-of to spank an elfchild.  He also knew his own nature...

   He had exiled himself from Rivendell, because of a predilection that was
difficult for him to accept.  He could not help becoming sexually excited
at the thought of punishing and raping young girls.  This caused so much
"cognitive dissonance" in him that he chose to absent himself from "polite
company".  He patrolled the outer reaches of the Rangers' sway, living a
perilous and lonely life of conflict against orcs, trolls, wargs, and evil
Men.  In fact, he had been trailing the company of orcs that had waylaid
her caravan, suspecting that they were on some mission of wickedness.  He
had been too late to prevent the slaughter, however.

   So now he was faced with a dilemma: it appeared as if it would take
punishment to affect the little elfgirl's behavior.  He now recalled the
realization he has somewhat suppressed til then: the elfchild had responded
sexually to her previous whipping at his hands, and this memory, as well as
the idea of repeating the performance, stimulated him as well.

   In the end he decided that safety was of overriding importance.  That
evening, as they made camp, he called the little elfchild to him.  "Young
lady," he solemnly intoned, "You have been disobedient from the moment I
met you.  I have warned you, begged you, pleaded with you, and reasoned
with you, but you refuse to consistently obey me.  I am through talking. 
Now you will have to find out what happens to naughty little girls who are
disobedient."

   Without further ado he bent her under his arm, tossed up the hem of her
tunic, and administered a brisk, business-like spanking on her trim bottom.
[SMAK-SMAK-SMAK!] "AAA!  OH-OH-OH!" she cried out as she danced from foot
to foot, trembling and yelping.  He continued her punishment until her
bottom was sufficiently reddened, and he sensed the repentance in her
posture.  Finally he relented, and soothed her tender buttocks with a
gentle massage as she murmured and whimpered.

   He let her up, and she surprised him by throwing her arms around his
waist in a fierce hug.  He picked her up and held her in his arms for
awhile, rocking and gentling her.

   It seemed to work, for a while.  She was quieter, and perfectly
obedient. She seemed to cling to him a little more, but not in a bothersome
way.  All was well, then...or so it seemed.

   There came a day when the Ranger had to forage far from camp for food.
He left her hidden in a rockfall some distance from their campsite, with
strict instructions to stay put until he returned.  He hunted as
expeditiously as he could, but it was still dark when he returned.

   She had disobeyed him.  Bored, and wanting to put on a heavier cloak,
she had slipped back to the campsite and rummaged through the baggage. 
Then, unwilling to return to the rocks, she had fallen asleep on a bedroll
in plain sight.

   She awoke, suddenly, to an awareness of some kind of threat.  Looking up
she saw a shape looming over her.  In the dark she could not tell what it
was.  Then, just as suddenly, another shape seemed to collide with it. 
Something like a rope landed with a plop on the bedroll, and then there was
a thud.  The shapes vanished.  She was not even sure that it wasn't a
dream. Indeed, the sense of threat was gone, now, so she slipped back into
unawareness.

   In the morning light she awoke.  The Ranger was standing over her, grim
and silent.  She sat up, and became aware of a thick strand of
something...red, and slimy-looking, on the blanket still covering her legs.
As she became more alert, she realized it was blood!  She looked up quickly
at the Ranger, but he seemed unharmed.  Then, with elven alertness, she
looked around her and noted the signs of something heavy having been
recently dragged away.

   "It was an orc," the Ranger said, anticipating her inquiry.  "He appears
to have been alone, lucky for you!  Do you realize the danger you were in?
Don't you know how horrible it would be for you if they caught you?  How
horrible it would be for me to know they had you?" She looked ashamedly
into his eyes and saw the true love and concern he had for her.  It made
her feel even worse to know how she had hurt him.

   Tears sprang into her eyes and she scrambled out of her bedroll and
flung her arms around his waist, gulping and sobbing, "I'm sorry-I'm
sorry-I'm sorry!" Surprised by the vehemence of her repentance, he
awkwardly returned her embrace, stroking her hair and patting her shoulders
as they jerked from her weeping.

   After a while she calmed down, with only the occasional hiccup as she
relaxed against his strong frame, feeling secure and protected.  Then she
looked up at him intensely, and solemnly intoned, "I should be punished,
shouldn't I?" He held her gaze for a long moment.  She did not waver.  He
nodded slowly, with finality.

   The decision having been made, he acted at once.  Without a word he bent
her under his arm and tossed up the hem of her tunic, exposing her trim
buttocks.  SWAP-SMAK-WHAP!  went the spanks, as she whimpered and moaned,
dancing from foot to foot, her bottom becoming fetchingly reddened. 
Finally he let her up, as she snuffled, and rubbed her bottom.

   "Do you think that's enough punishment, young lady?" the Ranger inquired
expectantly.  She hung her head for a moment, then peeped up at him through
her lashes and shyly shook her head.  "How else do you think you should be
punished, then?" he asked.

   She thought for a moment, then said softly, "Like you did that first
night, when I tried to steal food..."

   He gazed down at her for a moment in love and admiration, a smile
playing at the corner of his lips.  He gathered her up in his arms and
carried her to a tree with an overhanging bough.  He quickly looped a thong
around her wrists and pulled them over her head with a rope attached to her
bonds, passed over the bough.  He paused for a moment to appreciate the
sight: a pretty elven girlchild, heartbreakingly slender, with a face like
an angel in despair as she awaited discipline.  He tucked the hem of her
tunic into the bit of rope that served her as a belt, drew his belt off his
waist, and began her whipping.  SWAP-SMACK-WHACK!  went the belt on her
thighs, front and back, and her already-punished bottom.  "AAAAA!" cried
out the little elfgirl, writhing and arching in her bonds.  Again and again
he brought the strap-end of the belt down onto her tender skin.  After a
while he let his aim wander.  Soon he was whipping her full upon her
unfledged mons and cleftlips as she gasped and wail!

   ed.

   He "came to", as if out of a trance brought on by the stimulating scene,
and realized that she was nearing climax, even as she wept and sobbed,
"I'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOOD!" He tossed the belt aside, cut her bonds,
and swept her into his arms.  As he sat down with her on his lap, he began
to rub her abused bottom, thighs, and cleft soothingly.  She continued to
sob and gulp, but her hips were moving of their own accord, and all too
soon she was yelping, writhing, nearly screaming out her preteen elfin
orgasm, "AAA-AAA-AAA!" as she clung to him, her tears staining his jerkin.
He rocked her and rocked her, stroking and kissing her silken hair, as the
shuddering of her shoulders slowly subsided, the intensity of her feeling
fading finally to the occasional sob and sniff.

   "Now what am I to do with you, young lady?" he inquired, shaking his
head in a daze.  It was perhaps a half an hour after he had sat down with
her.  She had actually dozed for a bit, and now was stirring in his arms,
looking up with tear-stained but bright eyes, and a sweet, shy smile.

   Without hesitation she piped up, "Marry me!" then quickly looked down,
blushing, but snatching quick glances at his astonished face from under her
lashes.

   He knew that he should try to resist, simply refuse, carry her back to
Rivendell to her kin, fade off into Wilderland and never return.  But he
could not.  Still, he had to make sure she knew what she was asking.

   "Fair maiden, do you know what that really means?" he interrogated her
solemnly.

   She hung her head for a moment, then looked up shyly and said softly,
"It means you will rape me...does it not?"

   The question hung in the air between them, revolving lazily.  The
Ranger, so calm in the face of danger and sudden death, found himself
stunned that she would respond thus, and so readily.  He felt breathless,
dizzy, an icy sweat suffusing him.  He managed to choke out an incoherent
affirmative to her question.

   Mistaking his pallor and unsteadiness for disapproval, she stumbled off
his lap and shuffled away with drooping shoulders, mumbling, "But you will
not have me, for I am too small, and scarce fair enough, I trow..."

   He gaped at her for a moment, unable to move.  Then he sprang to his
feet and was at her side in a bound.  For some time he held her in his
arms, and whispered in her ear of his love for her, how he desired her:
heart, body, mind.  That he would gladly marry her.  She brightened with
delight and gave him butterfly kisses.

   Suddenly she stopped, popped her head up, and inquired, "But you will
still punish me, after we are married, will you not?"

   Astonished again, the Ranger could only nod dumbly, and wrap her in his
arms again.

   "But there is one thing you should know, if we are to wed," the Ranger
told her after a while.  "I have been told that elven girls...there is
something different..." he stammered, at an uncharacteristic loss for
words.

   "What, what?!" she exclaimed somewhat impatiently.

   "When a girl is raped," he explained softly, "there is something called
the maidenhead..."

   "I know that," she protested, with the scornful attitude universal to
preteen girls who are being instructed in something that they think they
already know.  "It'll get torn from me when you rape me.  They say it
hurts, some..." she finished more softly, eyes half closed, partly in tense
expectation, partly from barely recognized desire.

   "What I was going to tell you before you interrupted me," he continued,
and she trembled at the stern glance that spoke of future punishment, "is
that an elfgirl's maidenhead, if she is raped of it, grows back every
night, and continues to do so until she is the equivalent of a human
teenager in bodily maturity.  But for you that will not be for many years
to come.  So what time I rape you, you will lose your maidenhead again. 
This will add to your punishment, and I wanted to make sure you understood
it."

   She gulped, but nodded, and said, "I do.  I would plight my troth with
you now, if you will!"

   "With a good will, little maiden, with a good will!" And so in
Wilderland just west of the Misty Mountains, the Ranger and the little
preteen elfgirl were troth-plighted, with the sun and trees as witness.

   He just held her in his arms for long afterwards, feeling her little
trembles, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head from time to
time.  Finally he held her at arm's length, stooping down to look in her
face and shake a finger at her, mock-sternly, saying, "You were impudent a
while ago, weren't you, young lady?" She hung her head and nodded glumly.
"Impudent little girls need to be punished, don't they, little missy?"

   Without waiting for an answer he sat down on a log, pulled her over his
lap, tossed up the hem of her tunic, and rained spank after spank on her
little bottom, SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!  "OO-OO-OO!" she squealed, and kicked her
little legs as he reddened her backside.  When he judged that it was
glowing sufficiently he let her up, and she bounced to her feet, rubbing
her bottom, snuffling and gulping.  But her punishment had just begun. 
"Remove your tunic," he commanded, and punctuated it with a SMACK!  to her
bare thigh when she hesitated.  She hastened to comply and soon stood naked
before him, preteen elfgirl before full-grown man, the top of her head
coming only up to his lower chest.  Her slender charms were fully exposed:
nipples atop no more than buds, barely breaking the plane of her chest;
slim hips and trim buttocks; unfledged cleft with prominent clitoris
peeping out from between her slender thighs.  All serving somehow to bring
into focus even more her pixie elven face, like and angel's in despair,
seeming to glow despite the anxiety expressed in her features.  She was
perfectly adorable.

   He ran his hands up and down her torso, cupping her bottom, seizing her
little breastbuds, kneading and working her nipples.  Then finally sliding
down, down to the core of her being, tracing his fingers back and forth on
her unfledged cleftlips, as she shuddered and whined.  Suddenly he
punctuated the molestation of her little preteen sex with a spank full upon
her girlcleft, SWAK!  "AAAA!" she yelped, and "AH-AH-AH-AH!" again, as he
rained smack after smack on her tender elven girlhood.  Every few spanks he
would seize and work her clitoris, then resume spanking her cleftlips
again, her writhing becoming more vigorous, he cries more and more intense,
until finally he was rewarded with the sight, sound, and feel of the pretty
preteen elfgirl coming in his hands as he spanked her sexually.  As her
peak subsided he swept her up in his arms and just held her for a while as
she sobbed out the last of her orgasm, her tears again staining his shirt.

   They traveled only far enough to reach the nearest settlement of Men, a
small collection of farms and crafthouses in a hidden valley in the
foothills of the Misty Mountains.  There they were wed.  Life was hard in
Wilderland, human girls often married very young, and the Rangers were held
in great respect, so if there was a raised eyebrow or two at the union, no
overt objections were proffered.

   He had obtained a small cabin for them, far off the beaten track.  After
they had supped that evening, he called her to him.  "You are such a
naughty girl, aren't you, young lady?"

   "Y-yes Sir," she stammered, anxious about the punishment she knew he
would administer, yet drawn somehow to receive it, mouth dry, knees weak,
breath short, an inexplicable moistness between her legs...

   He strolled around her for a few moments, stroking his chin, considering
how he should proceed.  "I want you naked, right now, little miss!" he
commanded, and punctuated it with a sharp smack to the front of her thigh.
She yelped and quickly pulled her tunic off, revealing her slender preteen
elfin charms.  He admired the view for a while, focusing his gaze on her
breastbuds and cleft as she blushed prettily down to the tips of her
nipples.

   He bent her under his arm and administered a brisk, business-like
spanking, SPANK-SPANK-SPANK-SPANK!  "OO-OO-OO-OO!" she yelped as she
squirmed and danced.  After he judged her bottom to be sufficiently
reddened, he let her up.  She rubbed her buttocks and sniffled, whimpering.

   He took off his belt and whipped the strap-end across the front of her
thighs, SWISH-SMACK!  "AAAA!" she cried, and "OH-OH-OH!" as he whipped her
and whipped her, on her thighs, front and back, and her already-reddened
bottom.

   He stared for a moment at her chest as if contemplating what to do, then
brought the belt down sharply across her little breast buds, SWACK!
"OOOOOO! AAAIIII!" she wailed as he disciplined her so intensely, her
little nipples becoming erect and fetchingly reddened from the punishment
she received.

   He put her on the bed in knee-chest position.  She trembled in
embarrassment to think how exposed her intimacies were to a grown Man's
eyes.  Then all thought was driven from her as he whipped her with the belt
directly on her anus, WHACK-WHACK-WHACK!  "OOOOOO!  AAAAAAH!  O-O-O-O-OH!"
Even as he continued her strict, intimate discipline on this most tender
portion of a child's anatomy, he reached around and seized her unfledged
girlcleft, kneading and working the labia, then pressing her clitoris
firmly against her pubic bone.

   His ministrations soon brought about the desired effect.  She began to
buck, and moan, as she fetchingly sobbed out her preteen orgasm.  He
continued to punish her anus, watching her slender form jerk and writhe,
until finally she was spent.  He gathered her up in his arms for a while as
her shoulders shook with the last of her sobs.

   He lay her gently on the bed, supine.  "Spread your knees," he softly
ordered.  In a daze she did not immediately comply, so he seized her
nipples with a sharp tweak and repeated the command.  She hastily exposed
her cleft, but he continued disciplining her breastbuds for a few moments
as she moaned and writhed.

   He let his hands trail down her chest, past her navel, down to her bare
girlcleft, smooth, lips slightly gaping, glistening with moisture.  He
seized her cleftlips with both hands, making her gasp, and drew them apart.
He stared, drinking in the sight of her girlhood: prominent clitoris,
immature labia, intact hymen, with an aperture in it barely big enough to
admit the tip of his little finger.  He thrust that finger into it, and
ravished her hymen, not breaking it, but sternly stretching it with his
digit as she whined and jerked.

   Suddenly he leaned down and fastened his mouth upon her cleft.  She
spasmed and cried out at the unexpected sensation.  She was in a daze from
the intensity of her feelings as he probed her little preteen sex with his
tongue, pressing once more upon her hymen, then seizing her clitoris in
long excruciating bites between tongue and teeth that made her gasp and
squeal.

   Soon she was again nearing climax.  He quickly stood, seized the belt,
and whipped her repeatedly on her unfledged cleft, WHACK-WHACK-WHACK-WHACK!
"AAAAAAAAAAH!" she screamed, and came and came and came.  Even as her
orgasm was peaking, he flung the belt down, positioned his rampant rod at
the lips of her little-girlhood, and thrust firmly, raping her of her
maidenhead with one stroke, driving for her cervix.  She screamed again,
shortly, then sobbed and shook as his manhood remained buried in the little
preteen's vagina, not thrusting more, stroking her hair, kissing her
tear-stained cheeks, murmuring his love to her.

   Once her distress had died down to the occasional sob and sniff, he
began to rape her in earnest, long, slow, strong strokes at first, then
faster and more intense, pinning her to the bed with each thrust, as she
cried out rhythmically, "AAA-AAA-AAA-AAA!"

   Not his wildest imagination had prepared him for the sensation of raping
this pretty little preteen elfgirl, so soft and warm, so tight and small,
so responsive to her discipline.  In no time he was spilling his seed at
her cervix, then collapsing on the bed next to her, gathering her in his
arms as her shoulders shook and she put her face up for him to kiss her,
and stroke her hair, and kiss her again.  They fell asleep, he remaining
buried within her, still in wonder at the thought that this slender girl
was his, and that he would very likely strip, spank, and whip her, and rape
her of her maidenhead, nearly every day, as long as they both lived.

   The End

   by cc

   all comments enormously welcomed!
   ccccc12345@lavabit.com