Last of the Troll Hunters (2 of 2)


Lady Jane in greenPart one here.

Lady Jane dared not even contemplate sitting on the horse’s saddle. She hadn’t even been able to put on her forbidden riding breeks. Instead she had opted for a loose green gown more befitting her station, which was just bearable as it brushed against her raw bottom. But she winced all the same. Drawing glances from the men at the gate.

As it was, the guards had no way of knowing she was forbidden to ride. But she did wonder if she might be questioned for leading the horse and not sitting astride it, but then she was their lord’s ward.

In the event she reached the edge of the forest without incident. So once out of sight of the castle, she led the mount off the well-beaten track towards the far hills that marked the edge of troll country. She had ridden these glades for most of her life and even at walk she could be far from the best known routes in a few hours, especially if she risked standing in the stirrups and going easy.

In fact it took most of the day to reach a small lake where she could bathe, a distance that was but an hour or two at a canter. But the water looked inviting and she wondered if she might risk a swim or whether Dame Mary would have missed her by now.

“The water would certainly ease my…” she coughed and looked around.

Then following another of her usual reckless impulses she pulled the green gown over her head and dived headlong naked into the pool.

The water was cool on her poor seared bottom and she felt better than she had for days. Leaning back in the water gazed up at the sky and wondered if trolls were as large and dangerous as they said. For in truth she had never seen one. Well not unless you counted the severed head that she had seen once in Castle Brass on a visit there.

That had been an ugly shrivelled thing that was twice the size of a man’s head. She had been assured that the creature was a small one compared with some.

Jane’s splashing around hid the sounds of the forest and for a long while she was oblivious to the wild wood all around her. So she didn’t hear the crack of a branch from the undergrowth. Nor did she see the two greenish brown eyes watching her from the shadows.

The troll stood nearly eight feet tall and was a sturdy as a tree. But for a troll he was considered ugly on account of his small nose and narrow brow. Some said his grandsire’s mother was a human and other’s that she was a half-elf. Bran didn’t care about such things, not because they hurt his head like it did with others of his kind, because it didn’t. He was remarkably clever for a troll. But what did it matter if part of his line was descended from elves or humans; troll-kind accepted him where no human or elf would. All the same he tended to venture nearer to human lands than many of his kin for humans and elves fascinated him.

Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to the pool and now lingered to watch the small naked human female splashing about in the water. The curves of her form and the smoothness of her flesh drew his eye and the massive horn under his sackcloth kilt tingled. Then as he watched her, it began to grow until rose and pressed against his firm lower belly as thick as the forearm of a man and near half again as long.

His inconvenient erections and obsession with all thing s sexual was another reason his kind told tales of his possible human heritage. Most trolls did not breed as mammals did and few of the males sported such vigorous appendages as his.

Bran took a step forward and snapped another branch under foot. He froze.

This time Jane heard him and stopped her frolicking.

“Who’s there?” she called out.

Bran wondered if the woman was dangerous and reached nervously for his club. The humans had put a bounty on his kind and as a result they were nearly as dangerous as the elves.

Jane stood up in the shallows and cupped one hand to her sex while the other cradled her breasts.

Should he say hello, he pondered and took half a step forward. For a creature his size it was hardly creeping and trees crashed around him.

Jane bolted from the pool and snatched up her bow. It took her a moment to find an arrow and then it caught on the scattered quiver so that she cursed and stumbled amid her clothes.

“It’s alright little one,” Bran soothed.

Jane notched an arrow and whirled around to face the huge dim shape in the shadows that had made the noise. It was a hard bass sound, like a bear’s growl only she could have sworn that it had carried words.

Bran extended his empty hand and took another step forward.

Jane startled and took a step back, horrified at the shape. It was like a man, but not a man. He was as tall as an upright bear for one thing and for another his thick grey flesh was like living stone and almost entirely without hair.

“Get back,” she screamed.

Her voice was too shrill for him to discern her words and he tried again to calm her as he took a tentative step forward.

Jane heard the creature issue something like a roar and loosed an arrow.

Bran ducked as the fletching scraped an ear and went twanging into a tree by his head. He yelped and dropped his club and then extended his two empty hands as he backed away.

“No, no, no,” he said calmly, “I won’t hurt you.”

Jane was now certain it was a troll and was encouraged at the way the creature was now cringing.

“Cowardly brute,” she cajoled him. What was all the fuss about over these creatures?

Jane let go with another shot and the arrow struck the troll in his shoulder just above his heart.

“You bitch,” he growled.

Bran glanced back at the forest and considered running. But his unnatural intelligence told him he would present a good target if he fled, while his brutish side, often to the fore when he was angry, urged him to attack. Both sides of his nature in agreement, he charged.

The naked Jane notched another arrow but was suddenly panicked.

“Stay away,” she screamed and backed away even as she took aim for the troll’s head.

Jane stumbled and the arrow shot harmlessly skyward. She was still on her back when the troll closed with her and slapped the bow from her hands. It broke as it spun away and Jane looked up in wide-eyed terror at the huge creature. Then rolling over she scrambled away and tried to get her sword.

Meanwhile the bemused Bran pulled the arrow from his shoulder and cast it aside. The woman was no threat now, not even if she reached the sword. Well he presumed not. But she did look comely on all fours as she offered him a clear view of her naked behind as she grabbed for a sword. On second thoughts, he mused as he rubbed at his sore shoulder. Then he reached down and seized Jane’s ankle. Her grasp was just inches from the sword hilt as she felt his surprising warm paw on her leg and then she shot backwards and into the sky.

Jane had a momentary vision of being tossed like a salad and was certain that she would land into the troll’s gaping jaws to be eaten. But instead she landed belly down on his right undamaged shoulder so that the world was suddenly upside down. Then naked with her bare bottom pointed at the forest roof the creature took off in a fast lumbering gait deep into the woods.


Lady Jane did not know what bothered her most, the fact that she had been captured by a troll or the fact that it had left all of her clothes behind. Why did she ever think she could best a troll she wondered? The damn thing had taken an arrow and it hadn’t even slowed it down.

Just then a tree branch whipped across her still exposed and upturned bottom; it was like a swipe from Jerome’s birch and she yelped. The troll made no sign that he had noticed and continued to jog on through the woods with the great strides of his lumbering gait. Jane swung helplessly down its back with nothing to see but the train of the damn creature’s sackcloth kilt and the broken undergrowth the troll left in its wake. No, far from slowing it down, the damn beast could jog through the dense woodland as fast as a horse could trot in the open.

As for Bran, he had started off being nothing more than curious. It was one of his rules to have as little do with the high folk, human or elf, as he possibly could. Well sometimes it was. But there was a higher law. He had been attacked and he had triumphed. Now he was perfectly entitled to take his captive.

His shoulder still throbbed from the impact of the arrow and his anger had yet to subside. In time the clever half of his brain would take over and he would know what to do, but right then he was in a rage.

It took several hours to reach one of his people’s stopping places; the healing pool being the safest place on this side of the mountains. So as he went he couldn’t help noticing that the woman had a vivid rash across her tail end. It looked too sore to just be a consequence of a long ride for a rider short on experience, so he concluded that she had been punished for some reason. Well that was to the good, Bran was willing to bet she deserved it. Still he felt he should heal her as well as himself before he acted on his next plan.

Lady Jane was exhausted from the long uncomfortable trog through the forest and wondered what the Trollish for surrender might be when the interminable jogging came to an abrupt halt. The ceaseless and not to say occasional painful whipping of tree branches about them fell silent to be replaced by another sound. An old hunter had once told Jane that wherever a troll passed in the forest the birdsong died. But now that the creature had stopped running Jane could hear chorus of birds singing in such profusion that she doubted any human had before enjoyed it.

Also there was the silver tinkle of running water as it splashed over rocks into a pool. The captured noble woman lifted her head with difficulty to try and look around. But before she could garner any reward for her struggles she was lifted from the troll’s shoulder and unceremoniously dumped into a large rock pool.

“What the…” she spluttered as she splashed around in the water trying to touch bottom with her feet.

It took her several moments to gain a purchase and lumber coughing to the rocky side of the pool. By which time the troll had stripped off his kilt and begun wading into the water a short distance from Jane. Her eyes were like plates of dainties as she gaped at the size of his grand manhood swing freely between his thick trunks of thighs. Or should that be trollhood, she thought without humour as she swallowed down her awe.

The beast ignored her for the moment as he reached down and scooped up handfuls of water to gently trickle over the inflamed wound on his shoulder. But Jane’s eyes were still fixed lower down on his body.

“Oh my,” she gasped.

Then all at once a feeling of wellbeing surrounded her and all the small scrapes and cuts form her long haul through the undergrowth began to fade and she had never felt so clean. Then after a moment more the insistent rasp at her bottom that had troubled her for days began too to fade and she felt more at peace than she ever had.

“What is this place?” she asked in wonder.

Bran cast a glance in her direction and silently mouthed back her words as if rehearsing them. Then he said, “It is called the Healing Pool.”

His voice was deep, gruff and slow, but she understood him perfectly.

“It’s marvellous,” she said despite herself and her predicament.

Bran considered this and then smiled. Yes it was. He had never thought of it before.

Jane’s jaw dropped open as with one grin, the monster was transformed into a friendly giant.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

Bran studied her for a moment before saying, “Who are you?”

“I’m… Jane,” she answered shyly. She felt silly putting on airs while siting naked in a forest pond with an equally naked troll.

“Jane?” the troll nodded thoughtfully. “I’m Bran.”

Then he returned to cleansing his wounds. It was deep and still hurt him.

“You didn’t answer,” Jane spoke again, “What are you going to do with me?”

“You are going to be my little pet. A good little pet,” he told her.

“But…” Jane was aghast.

“Only you haven’t been good at all have you,” Bran growled as he continued to prod at his wound.

Jane gulped down a spoonful of fear and lowered herself deep into the water.

“How is your wound?” Bran asked her.

“My…” Jane blushed, a hand straying to her much improved bottom under the water. “Oh, it’s… eh… fine.”

“That is as well for now I am going to teach you some manners,” Bran told her.

Jane frowned and was about to let slip that it was a ridiculous idea that a rough old troll like him could teach her anything. But before she could speak she was lifted clear of the water and dumped face down across Bran’s huge lap.

“Oh no, you can’t,” she protested.

But holding her firmly in place Bran brought his laundry-paddle-sized hand down with a carpet beating splat and Jane grunted in surprise. Thrice more his hand spanked down as Jane howled like a banshee and kicked up her heels in distress.

“You can’t do this to me,” she wailed, but already her voice was tainted with childish mewling tears.

Bran didn’t stint. He admired the dark red bruise that stained both curves of her heroic goddess-like bottom. He had seen the curves on a statue in a ruined temple once that had held him spell bound, but it was nothing compared to this.

Jane thrashed and sobbed across the troll’s lap until her bottom was one hard swelling of leathery raw pads and she was spanked as spanked could be.

“Now I have a trick for you,” Bran chuckled.

Reaching down he scooped up some water and delicately soothed it over her sore bottom as she sobbed helplessly over his lap. The effect was miraculous and after only a few minutes her behind was only slightly sore.

“Tell me little Jane did you mean to kill me?” Bran asked.

Jane didn’t reply, but they both knew the answer.

“Just as I thought,” Bran chuckled and with another great blast of his hand began again to spank the helpless Jane silly.

It was a game they could play all afternoon without any harm coming to the girl.


Lord Jerome was furious that his father’s ward had run off. It was not only a mark of cowardice to evade a lawfully sanctioned punishment, but it was downright dangerous. He felt sick and anxious as he studied the deep dark forest. That foolish girl, when I catch her… his mind dwelt on all the elaborate scenarios that would not only put her in her place, but would leave her standing at supper for weeks. Why did the girl think she could hunt trolls? Very few of his warriors had ever done so successfully. In fact most of the so-called troll-hunts were shams, intended only to distract the young men of the castle from doing anything so foolish as to go hunting the damn things. In his experience, if you left a troll alone then they would leave you alone anyway. As for trolls eating people, well he had never known a true account of it ever happening. Most people who messed with the creatures got what they deserved.

Jerome chanced upon Jane’s mount around noon. It was drinking by a small lake that he knew well and knew that his quarry visited regularly.

“Beyond here there be dragons,” he quipped quietly to himself as he studied the endless green canopy ahead.

Then he saw the broken branches cut in something like a swathe leading away from the water into the forest. In another day or two the trees would have swallowed this trail and he could see that already bracken and small branches had reasserted themselves. He frowned. Why would she go that way and leave her mount, not to mention her… then he spied her clothes and weapons obscured by the undergrowth and his heart did a flip. He felt as if he were falling from a great height.

“No, no, no, no,” he wailed, tears pooling at his eyes.

He had a host of visions of bears and wolves, none of them good and he rode frantically around in circles for clues. Then there by the water in soft wet mud was a single footprint; a troll. It was hardly an improvement on a bear.

The horse followed with difficulty, but in places the path was still clear and he was able to make good time. But with every lurch of the horse and with each of its steps he drew closer to the mountains where the trolls were said to live.


Lady Jane had lost count of the number of times Bran had spanked her. Her whole bottom ached and it was so blister sore that she could not even touch it with her fingertips. Even the air on her flesh seemed to chafe rather than sooth.

The sky had turned red and after one final spanking Bran had laid her face down on some moss to cry herself out.

“We can play that game tomorrow if I like,” Bran said with a grin.

Jane swallowed hard and began to realise what being a troll’s pet would involve. More worryingly was Bran’s huge erection which was as plain as a pikestaff and almost as large. She found herself dreading and thrilling at a closer encounter by turns. What was the creature going to do to her?

Bran saw her looking.

“I don’t think human women can cope with… me,” he said sheepishly, “But the spankings are fun.”

“They are not,” she protested.

Jane was beginning to look fondly upon Jerome’s birch and her cosy place in the corner at the castle.

“They are for me and you did start it,” Bran said dismissively as he lowered himself into the pool for some relief.

“I only…”

“You tried to kill me,” he said decisively, it was true he knew and that was definite. “And even if you hadn’t and had had me hauled away to your castle, what would have happened to me there? Nothing good I bet.”

Jane blushed it was true. In fact his treatment of her was playful compared to his fate back at the castle.

“How… how long will you keep me?” she said shyly.

Bran shrugged.

“I don’t know, for a while probably. Then I’ll sell you I expect. If you are good I’ll sell you to the humans beyond the mountains,” he yawned, “If not then maybe to another troll.”

“But I want to go home,” Jane wailed.

Bran considered this and then shrugged. It was unimportant what she wanted just then. In fact they had better get a move on soon after dawn before her people came for her.

The arrow came as a surprise and struck him squarely in the forehead. For a moment he was puzzled and looked around for the cause of such an interesting phenomenon. Well he would have, if he had known the word.

Then he saw the small human warrior running at him with his sword drawn. He fended off the first blow of the man’s sword with is forearm and the blade bit deep. Rage took over.

Bran seized up his club and smashed it down next to the warrior and the shock of it knocked the man sideways. The next blow battered at his attackers shield sending it crashing across the pool.

“God’s teeth and snake poo,” Bran bellowed.

These humans were more trouble than they were worth.

At least his attacker was prone now and seemed to be alone. Bran’s vision went blurred and he saw double. That arrow had nearly done for him and the cut on his arm was deep. This warrior was much more dangerous than the girl. But he was alone. Usually troll hunters came in packs.

Bran knew there was nothing for it and raised his club high above his head to offer the warrior a merciful end.

“No,” Jane screamed.

Bran paused to look at her.

“He is my cousin of sorts,” she explained, “His name is Jerome,” she added as if by naming him the troll would be more inclined to spare him.

“Bah,” Bran spat as he looked upon Jerome, “You are no good as a pet. I’ll leave you here when I go.”

With that the troll swung his club lightly and tapped Jerome to unconsciousness on the side of his head.


Aerin had found the human hunter first. He was definitely on the trail of something and given the direction of his travel and the obvious troll sign of broken branches, she had a definite hunch as to what that was.

But by the time she caught up with him at the pool, the hunter was already trussed up in some rocks. He had been captured by a striking, if rather small male troll. Although he was half again as tall as she was.

The troll had a wound on its head and arm and was attempting to heal himself in the water. But that wasn’t what took Aerin’s attention. For naked in the rocks tied at the wrists was the most beautiful human Aerin had ever seen.

A human and a troll, Aerin thought, Glandrith was going to be very, very pleased and Aerin was going to be rich with more kudos than a girl could stand. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

But Aerin wasn’t the only one to be on the hunter’s trail. Glandrith had set off a few short hours after Aerin. After all she would have been a fool to trust such a devious little elf. Now she too was secluded in the trees watching the troll, the elf girl and the treasure of a human woman all naked and secured for collection. This would need some delicate handling, she considered.


Bran had just got his arm and head fixed from the magic healing pool when he heard the sound to his right. For the second time that day an arrow sped from the undergrowth and straight at his head. Only this time he had the presence of mind to put up an arm. The arrow pieced it and kept going until his forearm was thoroughly skewered.

“Melty mountains and orc shit,” he yelled.

He knew at once that this was no ordinary arrow and had he not put up an arm he would dead or at the very least knocked prone on the ground. Bloody elves, he cursed, what had he done to any of them?

“What is your problem?” he bellowed, “Can’t you see I am busy here?”

Aerin was also annoyed; the shot had been off centre and had nearly taken the creature out of the game permanently. She wanted him alive. But luckily the troll was distracted and there was still a chance. Leaping form cover Aerin threw a bag of fairy dust that landed with a rainbow burst to envelope the troll.

In response, Bran dived for cover into the pool, the magic waters flushing away not only the effects of the dust, but went someway to restoring his arm.

For a long moment Aerin paused at the water’s edge to notch another arrow, but the residual dust still glinting in the air tickled her nose and she sneezed.

Bran chose his moment and lunged, seizing the elf by her ankles he dragged her in. After several seconds of thrashing the troll emerged with his hands around Aerin’s throat as she coughed up water.

“Now give me one reason I shouldn’t wring your neck?” he roared.

“I can give you one,” said a voice.

For a moment he thought the elf he had by the neck had spoken and then he saw the elven woman in white standing on a rock above him.

“Do you have a bow too?” he sighed.

“Yes actually, but I am not going to need it am I?” the elf woman smiled.

“Aren’t you?” Bran asked looking from his captive to the smiling sorceress.

Glandrith wrinkled up her nose with a smile and shook her head dismissively.

“I shouldn’t think so,” she said with a giggle to her voice. “Not if you put her down unharmed.”

Bran shrugged and after a pause tossed the sodden elf girl onto the bank and then folded his arms. If he was dead, he was dead.

“Now I have a proposition for you,” Glandrith said breezily.

Bran threw up his hands and snorted.

“That is the most reasonable thing I have heard all day,” he sighed.

Then as Glandrith’s grin grew broader she slowly turned her gaze to the naked and wide-eyed Jane. To the now very nervous human woman the elf’s smile resembled a cat that had just captured a very creamy mouse.


“So you are saying that if I give you the human,” Bran said as he puzzled it out, “Then I can keep the elf?”

Aerin frowned and she sat by the pool to consider this. Was she horrified by the idea? What was Glandrith playing at?

Jane was rather more startled. She was sitting cross-legged now with her hands cupped to her breast trying to make herself look as small as possible. Was she being rescued by the elven sorceress or…?

“Just for one year,” Glandrith said silky.

Bran rubbed his jaw and cleared his head to think. As trolls went he was smart, but he wasn’t used to so much thinking in one day.

“The human is a delicate creature; she won’t cope well as a slave to a troll. Aerin is much tougher and far more entertaining,” Glandrith said seductively.

“What if your elf girl doesn’t agree?” Bran asked, “She will have kin and anyway and unwilling elf is more trouble than it is worth?”

A year away from the village in the company of trolls, I could escape Glandrith, Aerin thought eagerly. A year would be like a holiday.

“I’m not sure I like this idea,” Aerin said carefully, “But we do seem to be at an impasse…”

Glandrith’s smile vanished and she turned a cold gaze upon the naughty elf.

“It looks like troll is off the agenda, so if I don’t get my human then…” she left the words to hang like a threat.

That was just what I was thinking, Aerin thought. Seven years of bite crystals and stinger oil.

“Well I suppose I could spend a year with the troll,” Aerin sighed.

“Now look here,” Jane wailed.

Glandrith silenced her with a glare.

“You want to stay with a troll,” she said wearily.

Jane opened her mouth and looked at Bran and then back at the brighter-than-life elven woman in white. She felt something like longing. And then she remembered Jerome.

Lord Jerome had a glare that rivalled any elves and he had been getting steadily angrier and angrier as the exchange had taken place.

“But I want to go home,” Jane said weakly, not at all sure that she did.

For one thing once she did get home her bottom would be mince. And for another she would spend at least a year under the thrall of Dame Mary and that didn’t bear thinking about. She wouldn’t even have dreams about troll hunting to console. Her troll hunting days were well and truly over.

“You should have thought about that before you run away,” Glandrith countered impatiently.

“Lady Jane is my father’s ward and under my protection. If you take her you will answer to me,” Lord Jerome let his true menace show now.

Glandrith pondered for a moment. The man was clearly of some note, even if he were a minor noble there would be trouble. It might even mean war with the humans.

“And besides, you love her,” Glandrith played her card.

“I…” Jerome was gobsmacked, the damn elf was right.

Jane’s eyes were wide and she shot a calculating glance at Jerome.

“But let’s face it, she is a rather wilful girl and hungry for adventure,” Glandrith continued. “Give her to me for one year and I will return her as a fit and dutiful wife.”

Jerome reached for his sword as he always did when he was out of his depth, but it was gone and in any case his arms were still bound.

“If I don’t return with Lady Jane my father will…” he said at last, not at all certain what his father would do.

“Surely you are man enough to make your own bargains and decisions,” Glandrith countered, “Besides, if she doesn’t come with me then she will be over the mountains with the trolls before you can ride home, even presuming I would permit that. A year, on my oath and you will have her back. And if you cannot keep your word or your father overrides it then… well you can have your war. Perhaps my Lord will send her back to keep the peace. If she goes with the trolls however…”

She didn’t have to say anymore.

“Jerome,” Jane said gently, “It is alright, I can go with the elves. It is only a year.”

He nodded.

“Jerome, do you really love me?” she gushed.

Lord Jerome returned a lopsided grin and then it vanished as he looked at the troll.

“Alright sorceress, you have a deal,” he said reluctantly.

Bran shrugged. He was past caring, they could all bugger off for all he cared, but the elf girl was rather cute and she appeared to be smiling at him.


Aerin was naked and on her knees by the pool. Glandrith had furnished Bran with a silver collar that she said would ensure that the little elf kept to her end of the bargain. Aerin had heard of such things, they prevented elves from using magic and compelled the wearer to return to their masters if they strayed too far. Well it was only for a year and her trollish master would be fascinating to serve.

Bran too was naked and fully erect and for the first time in his life he did not feel awkward about it. Not that he knew what to do with a maleness that rivalled his club.

“Are you really going to bugger me with that?” Aerin lisped.

She was a little nervous and in awe of what she saw. Also she was not a little excited.

“I don’t think…” Bran was uncertain, but the idea, now spoken caused his member to spontaneously twitch.

“Suppose you let me worry about that. I am after all here to serve you,” Aerin said in a hushed voice. “I am not human remember.”

Bran found he liked the idea, but he rather resented that the elf had taken the lead.

“Here let me…” Aerin whispered dreamily and then on impulse she leant forward and with some difficulty took his member in her mouth.

It was huge and it was all she could do to get her lips around it. She wondered what would happen if Bran came. Would she choke? What would he taste like? Could she even make him come with such a small mouth? She was willing to try, very willing. In any case her spittle would ease the passage if he fancied the more usual troll sport.

The engorged crown of his cock was larger than her own fist and Aerin was amazed that she could fit it and some considerable portion of its length into her mouth.

Bran was overtaken by things he had never felt before and for long, long minutes he stood lost in himself as the little elf pleasured him with her lips. Then he remembered he was supposed to be in control and there was another game he could play first.

Taking Aerin by the ear he pulled her off of him and sat down on a rock. She was left bereft for a moment and gaping like a fish.

“Hey, I haven’t finished,” she wailed.

But Bran wasted no time in lifting her with one hand and depositing her across his knee.

“It is time to learn who’s boss,” he chuckled and as he had with Jane before, he began to soundly spank Aerin until she yelped and kicked and her bottom was the colour of a summer sky at sunset.

“Alright, alright, you’re the boss,” Aerin sobbed.

She had rather hoped to have escaped this kind of thing.

“And now we will try that other thing you said,” Bran gasped.

His appendage was hard now, and tight between Aerin’ hip and his belly. It was throbbing even more urgently than the elf’s polished bottom.

“Oh please,” Aerin wailed.

Lifting her up and taking her hips in both hands he pressed his freed-up horn at her narrow orifice and aided by beads of dew from them both, he pressed himself home.

The elf’s eyes went wide in surprise and she gritted her teeth in shock and determination. The rasp of rough skin where you would think a girl would least want it contrasted happily and interestingly with the sore throb form her spanking. She was no stranger to all manner of random insertions in that particular office, it was a favoured vice of hers, but this was something else. The cucumber she had once toyed with just did not compare and she gave out a long anxious groan.

“Shall I stop?” Bran said in concern. “I don’t want to harm you.”

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped at him impatiently.

“Don’t give me orders,” Bran growled back as he took another few inches.

“Aieee,” Aerin screamed, she had never suspected that a girl could come this way.

Bran was not far behind and Aerin had never felt anything like it.

It was a while before either of them could speak and then Bran reached for a scoop of water to wash off the surplus troll juice he had spawned.

“Don’t waste it,” she chided and enthusiastically took him again deep into her mouth.

“There you go again giving me orders,” Bran scolded her.

“Sorry master,” she mumbled with her mouth full, “Spank me afterwards.”

“I-I-I will,” he groaned.

And then I’ll bugger you senseless he vowed.


Lady Jane did not remember much of the journey through the Evergreen Forest after saying her tearful goodbyes to Jerome. Glandrith told her it was usually that way with humans as the elven village was under a glamour as was much of the surrounding forest.

She had been given Aerin’s clothes to wear for the journey, although the doeskin breeks of the much taller elf had been far too long in the leg and did not fit. Luckily, for the same reason the short jerkin had served as a brief dress that at least reached Jane’s thighs. It was little enough for a respectable woman, but already she had seen elves wearing less and besides, the magic of her adventure filled her mind with too much wonder to over worry about such matters as modesty.

“What will I do here?” Jane asked.

“Call me highness or my lady,” Glandrith said kindly, “It is not seemly for a stranger to forget the formalities even among my people.”

“Elves you mean?” Jane asked.

“We prefer Fey, but by my people I meant the wood folk who are renowned for their informality,” Glandrith explained indulgently. “And I told you once, address me as highness or my lady.”

Jane tried to take it in, but the city was magical. There were high towers seemingly carved from stone although they were intertwined with great trees on which stood houses linked by bridges to the spired columns that sprung up between them. There was an ethereal glow to everything and far from being in a haze or milky focus she had seen on human paintings of so-called elf cities, everything had a crisp more-real-than-life sense to it.

To further confuse her Glandrith had referred to the city as a village, yet no city she had ever seen compared with this veritable metropolis.

“How big is it?” Jane asked in wonder.

Glandrith sighed.

“How many elves… I mean fey are there?” Jane continued babbling excitedly.

Glandrith offered Jane a sharp look and took her arm. Then she sat on a low wall at the side of the path and pulled the surprised Jane effortlessly across her knee. The jerkin was easy to flip up off Jane’s bottom and the elf brought her hand sharply down in a sharp smack to her naked behind.

Jane gasped; the spank was as hard as she ever received with just a hand.

The spanking continued with vigour for some long minutes until Jane’s bottom was dark red and she was blubbering like kitchen brat caught stealing cookies.

“I can do this all day,” Glandrith warned.

“What did I do?” Jane wailed.

The Elder fey did not answer but picked up the pace and spanked even harder.

“Oh please, what did I do?” Jane pleaded, kicking her legs and giving herself over to unrestrained bawling tears.

“It will come to you,” Glandrith said wearily and continued to spank the really by now rather sore bottom.

“My lady, please, my lady, I am sorry,” Jane said in a wheedling whine as she pouted.

Glandrith spanked for a little longer and then set the heavily panting and tearful Jane back on her feet.

“We like space and there only a few more of my kind than you would find in a small town back in your world,” Glandrith continued as if nothing had happened.

Jane sniffed and regarded her host sullenly and then seeing that Glandrith wasn’t waiting, the human girl scurried after the elf as she rubbed at her bottom under the hem of the jerkin.

“You should have seen our cities of old,” Glandrith sighed nostalgically.

“My lady, what am I to do here?” Jane sniffed.

“Among our kind there are few offspring, an effect of being so long-lived. The fey do not mature fully until they are 50 or 60. Oh, I don’t mean mentally or physically, but spiritually and to a lesser extent emotionally. Much like your people, only they don’t have the time,” Glandrith spoke with little regard for Jane’s questions, although she offered answers if the girl would hear. “There are four stages of youth, the first two you would recognise. You won’t see any of that age. But then comes the dreaded third youth.”

Glandrith shuddered.

“Aerin was one of those, as are you I suppose,” the sorceress continued. “They need so much handling and are so troublesome.”

“I am not…” Jane began in an indignant tone.

Glandrith shot the girl a hard glance.

“When we get home, you will go to the wood spinner and obtain a razor switch,” she said sharply, “You need a very firm lesson.”

Jane was used to idle threats like this, but blushed all the same. This was too, too much.

“Now among our kind we must earn our position. We do not favour inheritances, in fact no one under 100 can be left anything by will deed. You will be permitted scraps form my table and a mat to sleep on. Otherwise you can eat in the communal hall. Lectures in school are also free, but mind your manners if you go and learn what you will. Most of the youth will be female as the males are sent away least we have riots on daily basis. They are trained for war and the like I suppose, I never had sons so…” Glandrith shrugged. “Anyway, any elder can discipline any youth as he or she sees fit. Remember that. But do not fear, no real harm will come to you.”

“But… I mean my lady,” Jane amended, “How…?”

“You barter for things. You have a labour and your wits. You can trade anything you don’t need and over time… well you’ll see. The only exception in your case is that I will train you in etiquette and household management in return for help with my researches,” Glandrith’s words had a finality to them, the reason for which became clear when she added, “My house.”

The house was a tower that nestled alongside a road that was really a bridge between two trees.

“It’s lovely my lady,” Jane gasped.

Glandrith didn’t reply and just gave her a look until Jane frowned. The elf responded with a sigh and again took hold of her charge and hauled her across her knee as she sat on the windowsill to her house.

“My lady… your highness… what…?” Jane wailed.

Her bottom was quickly bared and another sound spanking ensued until Jane was again bawling like a chamber maid. The vigorous sting of Glandrith’s hand reignited the earlier spanking and Jane prayed for a healing pool.

If Jane had thought the spanking would soon end, then she was in for a hard lesson indeed. The spanking went on and on until raw leathery patches formed on her bottom cheeks as they had when Bran had spanked her.

“What did I do?” Jane sobbed.

“How stupid are you?” Glandrith said in disbelief and spanked on.

“My lady,” Jane howled, “My lady,” she offered again in case she had forgotten one.

Then finally she remembered.

“The switch, you wanted… what was it?” she gabbled, adding hastily, “My lady.”

Jane was immediately set upon her feet.

“A razor switch from the wood spinner,” Glandrith said with an edge to her voice.

Jane gulped and rubbed at her sore behind. There were twittering giggles all around her and she had a horrible feeling that her spanking had been witnessed.

“My lady… where is the wood spinner?” Jane sniffed.

Glandrith pursed her lips and looked as if she was about to resume the spanking.

“I’ll find it,” Jane said hastily, “My lady.”

And then set off down the nearest pathway through the trees.

Behind her Glandrith began to laugh like a bell in a summer breeze. There goes the last of the troll hunters, she thought.


9 Responses to “Last of the Troll Hunters (2 of 2)”

  1. 1 Dascha

    Wonderfull story keep up the good work

  2. 2 paul1510

    I really enjoyed this.
    Poor Lady Jane. 🙂

  3. 3 DJ

    Glad you liked it 🙂

  4. 4 Scarlet

    Love this one! I think I would like to go join the Fey. 🙂

    • 5 DJ

      They are officially recognised in parts of Scandinavia I hear – as are faeries and trolls – not sure which part (The area where they drink a lot maybe) 🙂

  5. 6 Karl Friedrich Gauss

    An engaging and satisfying tale. Usually I try to avoid reading fiction, but this time I was drawn in.

  6. 8 Pecan nutjob

    Why buggery and not from the “front”? I’m sure a troll would enjoy a woman that way…

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