Thranduil entered the Adventurer's Guild confidently that morning, ready to spew more nonsense about his god. Little did he know what lay in store for him.
As soon as the doors closed behind him, several adventurers surrounded him and dragged him towards the pillory set up in the middle of the guildhall. The elf struggled and protested, but he was no match for their sheer numbers and brute strength. They pushed him down onto his knees and positioned his neck and wrists securely inside the wooden pillory.
He cried out in protest, spitting insults and curses as they tightened the stocks around his slender body. "You fuckmongers," he screamed, "how dare you treat me like this! Let me out!"
The guildmaster stepped forward, glaring down at the humiliated elf. "Thranduil," he said sternly, "you have been a menace to this guild for far too long. You come here every day to cause trouble, starting fights and spreading your lies."
Thranduil spat at him, hitting his boots. "Blasphemy," he hissed, "the only truth is the word of my god."
The guildmaster sighed. "We tried reasoning with you before," he explained, "but yesterday was too far." He gestured over at the scorch mark on the wall from Thranduil's fireball attack on another adventurer.
"You have been sentenced to public punishment," he stated.
Panic flashed in Thranduil's eyes. Public punishment usually involved humiliation and violence...and that terrified him. "W-wait," he stammered, "surely we can work something out—"
A loud smack reverberated through the guildhall as someone slapped Thranduil across the ass. The elf let out a shocked yelp, face reddening with humiliation.
"You need to be taught a lesson in respect," said the guildmaster grimly. "And we need to raise money for repairs somehow—a silver per go should be enough."
"A...silver? I'm worth more than that!" Thranduil shrieked indignantly.
Another slap echoed throughout the guildhall, this time on his other cheek. He shuddered as someone ran their hands over his clothed rear, feeling up his buttocks.
The elf's eyes scanned the crowd, desperately searching for a sympathetic face. To his horror, none could be found—even the guards looked on with lecherous looks in their eyes.
The crowd was an eclectic mix of people, ranging from humans to dwarves to beastfolk—mostly men, but there were a fair amount of women as well. Everyone looked hungry, eyeing his lithe form predatorily. He squirmed fearfully, earning him yet another smack on his ass.
"Get him out of them clothes!" a goblin woman yelled excitedly, holding a glass beaker. "I'm gonna milk me some elf cum!" Several others chimed in, jeering and cheering.
Thranduil gulped nervously, realising exactly what public punishment entailed. He squirmed again as greedy hands reached out to tear his pristine holy robes off, stripping him naked in front of everyone. He blushed in shame as they ogled his body freely, commenting crudely on its attractive features.
"Now, people, we're going to do this civilly," the guildmaster ordered. "One at a time, orderly queues please."
"Oooh, he's hairless everywhere!" someone commented excitedly. Their hands wandered downwards to his pelvis, giving his privates a few curious strokes.
"Wait your turn to sample the goods!" someone else complained. "Don't hog him!"
The guildmaster ushered everyone back. "Okay folks, line up please," he announced. "No pushing or shoving!"
Everyone complied, forming several distinct lines leading up to the pillory. Thranduil trembled, unsure what to expect. The lines wrapped fully around the hall and out the door. There were even people standing outside looking through the windows at the proceedings.
The first one up was