"So you thought thieving was a good idea, did you? You've been listening to too many of Bilbo's tales in the Halls after dark." His breath was hot on her pointed ear, and he flicked out his tongue. "Tell me, what is it like to take something which does not belong to you?"

Arwen tilted her head up in defiance. "He may be your horse, but is it not my father's valley, and does not everything in his valley come under his rule?"

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed, as he drew back a little, his hands still clutching Arwen's wrists, holding them against the wooden wall of the stable, high above her head. "His rule. Not yours. You took my horse without permission."

"And brought him back."

"Not the point." He stepped closer to her, his voice deepening. "You have your own steed, faster and greater than my own. Why did you take mine, knowing my wrath would come upon you, if that was not what you had hoped for?" She continued to gaze past him, her rebellious nature forever present upon her face. "Defy me like a child and you shall be treated as one," he told her, and without warning swiftly turned her face the wall.

He still held her hands as high as he could with one of his own. Her cheek pressed against the weathered wood as the first blow hit her backside. His open hand made contact with her rear nine more times. The first time she had cried out in surprise, but now she gasped and felt herself moving toward the impact. He wasn't spanking her very hard, but the thrusts of her hips back made them harder than he intended so that she was panting when he turned her back around.

"Don't let it happen again," he warned, his finger nearly touching her nose as he pointed it at her. He let her wrists go and turned to leave.

"Aren't you going to finish what you started?"

Glorfindel looked over his shoulder to see Arwen backed up against the wall, her hands pressed against the wooden panel at either side of her. Her head was turned to the side, and she was looking downwards, for the first time ever that he could recall in her adult life, looking passive. "I'm finished. Don't let it happen again." Once more he turned to go.

"Don't you want to know what it's like to take something that does not belong to you?" Glorfindel stopped dead in his tracks, but did not turn to look at Arwen as she continued. "It's thrilling, I assure you. The rush of it. That you could get caught."

"You think he would catch me?" Slowly, Glorfindel went to the door of the barn and locked it. From a peg on the wall he lifted a rope as he passed. He stretched out the rope between his hands. "You think I would let him catch me?"

"I could scream," she said to him, shivering as her eyes met his.

He swung one end of the rope up over the rafters, catching it again as it came down. "You will scream. My name." His words were a low growl, and he motioned that she should approach him, smiling when she looked back to some distance point in the ceiling and stood her ground.

She did not struggle when he bound her hands together, in fact, she placed her other hand next to the first one he had grabbed and tied the rope around. Roughly, but carefully, he shoved her under the rafter where the other end of the rope dangled. "This isn't the first time you've taken Asfaloth from his stall, is it?" he asked, pulling the rope slowly. Her arms rose above her head and she stepped back as they stretched toward the ceiling. When she shook her head, she felt another pull on the rope, and rose onto the points of her toes, he body taunt and beginning to ache in a most pleasant manner. Glorfindel walked to the barrier that divided the stall they were in from the next and tied off the rope.

Walking around her stretched form, Glorfindel eyed her up appreciatively before disappearing out of her view. "How many times have you taken him without permission?" he asked.

Closing her eyes and trembling with anticipation, Arwen said, "Fourteen times."

"Only fourteen times?" When Arwen felt something smooth but cold slide across her cheek, she opened her eyes to find Glorfindel in front of her, the tip of his riding crop ghosting across her skin. "Well. I think we'll make it an even twenty. We both know you're going to do it again."

Once more Glorfindel disappeared, but this time Arwen felt him behind her, lifting up the hem of her skirts and pulling them up until they were to her waist, exposing her legs to him, and the rest of her body from behind. She blushed, knowing why he paused, and felt his breath against her ear again.

"My lady, how inappropriate," he said, one hand holding up her dress while the other, still gripping the crop, felt her naked rear end, squeezing one firm globe and then the other. "We shall have to make it thirty strikes, or else tell your father of this indecency. You may choose," he said, moving back to tuck her skirts into her belt, allowing her to be exposed without him having to hold the material up.

"Thirty strikes, but-" Arwen bit her lip and then said, "But use your hand."

Glorfindel chuckled and answered, "You are in no position to negotiate. You have chosen not to face humiliation, and that I respect. But now, you must learn that with everything, there is a price." The first strike as the first blow he dealt earlier was the one to catch her off guard. The next struck the opposite side, each lash creating a line of fire over her skin, a sinful burning that made her wish she could move closer to it. Her body continued to ache with each successive blow, and she felt lust rise into her stomach. She began to moan with need as the strikes numbered into the twenties, louder and louder as her punishment came to an end.

Behind her, Glorfindel's crop came to a rest as he reached thirty, and he stepped up behind her, rubbing the bulge in his leggings against her cleft. "You took that well, but it is time for me to take something." He pulled the fabric back down so that it swept the top of Arwen's boots and then circled around and knelt down in front of her. Again he took hold of the hem of her dress, but this time he drew himself underneath and the fabric draped down over his back.

Crying out his name and unable to move to better suit her own needs, Arwen whimpered as his tongue teased her. His hands were upon her backside, soothing the bright red flesh. Each time she thought she would reach the pinnacle of pleasure, Glorfindel would draw back and the heat would recede. When her frustration built beyond what she could hold back, she began to beg him, pleading for release, pleading for him to take her.

"How, m'lady?" he asked, his tongue flicking rapidly in a most delightful manner and then instantly drawing back.

"Like the stallion takes a mare, mount me here as they would in the fields."

"As you wish." Glorfindel hastily untied the rope from the barrier, and it came slithering down out of the rafters. Arwen fell to the ground, into the fresh straw. Her limbs were weak, and she nearly fell onto her side as Glorfindel came around to unbind her hands. The rope was barely off before he was behind her again, the dress pushed up to her waist.

His hands moved her hips a little, spread her legs a little more. He coaxed her to bring her shoulders up, her back down. The awkward position she achieved when his fussing finally stopped seemed silly until she felt him plunge into her wet folds from behind, and she howled at the angle and the depth, and the overall pleasure of it.

"It's too bad I don't have a bit and a bridle," Glorfindel said as he thrust again and again. He fisted one hand in her hair to pull her head back, his other on her hip. "I'd love to have been the one to rein you in," he said. There was no remorse, only a wistful undertone as he brought them both to completion, and indeed, as he finished taking her, she did scream his name.