The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty
Page 22
"Yes, my Lord," Beauty whispered.
Leon withdrew and a moment later he returned with a small white tray on which were laid several little objects Beauty could not see.
But to her terror, Lord Gregory parted her legs and affixed to that little hard kernel of tormented flesh a plaster of sorts that covered it and adhered to it. He shaped it quickly with his fingers as if he did not wish to have Beauty enjoy this.
And Beauty was all the more relieved, for had she felt the ultimate pleasure, had she commenced to shudder and to blush with the final release from this torment, she would have been absolutely mortified.
But now the little plaster gave her an added torment. What could it mean?
It seemed Lord Gregory read her thoughts.
"That will prevent you from all too easily satisfying your newfound and undisciplined desire, Beauty. It will not alleviate it. It will merely prevent, shall we say, accidental release, until you have gained the proper control of yourself. I had not thought to commence this detailed instruction so soon, but I shall tell you now that you are never allowed to experience full pleasure save at the whims of your master or mistress. Never, never, must you be caught touching your private parts with your own hands, nor trying more secretly to alleviate your obvious...misery."
"Well-chosen words," Beauty thought, "for all his coldness to me."
But he was immediately gone, and once more Leon was bathing her.
"Don't be so frightened and so ashamed," he said. "You don't realize what a great advantage it is. To be taught to feel such pleasure is very difficult, and far more humiliating. And your passion gives a bloom to you that cannot be achieved otherwise."
Beauty cried softly. The little plaster between her legs made her all the more conscious of her feelings there. Yet Leon's hands and voice were soothing her.
Finally he told her she must lie down in the bath and he must wash her long beautiful hair for her. She let the warm water close over her and thought for a moment that she was covered by it and that felt extremely good to her.
As soon as she had been rinsed and dried, Beauty was put down on one of the beds nearby, and arranged on her face so that Leon could rub an aromatic oil into her skin.
It felt delicious to her.
"Now, surely," he said as he was massaging her shoulders, "there must be questions that you should like to ask me. You may do that if you like. It is not good for you to be confused about things unnecessarily. There is enough for you to fear without fears that are imaginary."
"I may...talk to you then?" Beauty asked.
"Yes," he said. "I'm your groom. In a way, I belong to you. Each slave, no matter how he or she ranks or pleases or displeases, has a groom, and that groom is devoted to that slave, to that slave's needs and wishes, as well as preparing the slave for the master. Now, of course, there will be times when I shall have to punish you, not because I take pleasure in it, though I can't imagine punishing a more beautiful slave than you, but because your master may order it. He may order you punished for disobedience, or merely readied for him with some blows. But I will be doing it only because I have to..."
"But do you...do you take pleasure in it?" Beauty asked timidly.
"It is difficult to resist beauty such as yours," he said, rubbing the oil into the backs of her arms and into the crevices of her elbows. "But I should much rather groom you and care for you." He put down the oil and gave her hair another brisk rub with the towel, adjusting the pillow under her face.
It felt so good to be lying here, with his hands working on her.
"But as I was saying before, you may ask me questions when I give you leave. Remember, when I give you leave, and I have just given it."
"I don't know what to ask," she whispered. "There is so much to ask..."
"Well, surely you must know already that all punishments here are for the pleasure of your masters and mistresses..."
"Yes."
"And that nothing shall ever be done which truly harms you. You will never be burned, nor cut, nor injured," he said.
"Ah, that is a great relief," Beauty said, but in truth she had understood these limits without being told. "But the other slaves," she asked. "Are they here for various reasons?"
"Sent as Tributes mostly," Leon answered. "Our Queen is very powerful and commands many allies. And of course, all Tributes are well fed, well guarded, well treated just as you are well treated."
"And...what happens to them?" Beauty asked tentatively. "I mean, they are all young and..."
"They're returned to their Kingdoms when the Queen so wishes, and obviously very much better off for their service here. They're not so vain any longer, they have great self-control, and often a different view of the world, one which enables them to achieve great understanding."
Beauty could scarcely guess what this meant. Leon massaged the oil into her sore calves and the tender flesh behind her knees. She felt drowsy. The sensation was growing ever more delicious, and she resisted it slightly, unwilling to let that craving between her legs torment her. Leon's fingers were strong, almost a little too strong, and they moved to her thighs, which the Prince had reddened with his strap as much as her calves and bu**ocks. She shifted slightly against the soft, firm bedding. Her thoughts slowly cleared.
"Then I might be sent home," she asked, but it had no meaning for her.
"Yes, but you must never mention it, and certainly never ask for it. You are the property of your Prince. You are his slave entirely."
"Yes..." she whispered.
"And to beg to be released would be a terrible thing," Leon continued. "However in time you will be sent home. There are different agreements for different slaves. Do you see that Princess there?"
In a great hollow in the wall, on a shelf-like bed, lay a dark-haired girl whom Beauty had noticed. She had olive skin, richer in tone than that of Prince Alexi who was also dark, and her hair was so long it lay in rippling strands over her bu**ocks. She slept with her face to the room, her mouth slightly open on the flat pillow.
"Now, she is Princess Eugenia," said Leon, "and she must be returned in two years by agreement. Her time is almost up and she is broken-hearted. She wants to remain on the condition that her continued slavery will save two slaves from having to come here. Her Kingdom might agree to these terms to keep back two other Princesses."
"You mean she wants to stay?"
"O yes," Leon said. "She is mad for Lord William, the Queen's eldest cousin, and can't bear the thought of being sent home. But there are others who are ever rebellious."
Leon withdrew and a moment later he returned with a small white tray on which were laid several little objects Beauty could not see.
But to her terror, Lord Gregory parted her legs and affixed to that little hard kernel of tormented flesh a plaster of sorts that covered it and adhered to it. He shaped it quickly with his fingers as if he did not wish to have Beauty enjoy this.
And Beauty was all the more relieved, for had she felt the ultimate pleasure, had she commenced to shudder and to blush with the final release from this torment, she would have been absolutely mortified.
But now the little plaster gave her an added torment. What could it mean?
It seemed Lord Gregory read her thoughts.
"That will prevent you from all too easily satisfying your newfound and undisciplined desire, Beauty. It will not alleviate it. It will merely prevent, shall we say, accidental release, until you have gained the proper control of yourself. I had not thought to commence this detailed instruction so soon, but I shall tell you now that you are never allowed to experience full pleasure save at the whims of your master or mistress. Never, never, must you be caught touching your private parts with your own hands, nor trying more secretly to alleviate your obvious...misery."
"Well-chosen words," Beauty thought, "for all his coldness to me."
But he was immediately gone, and once more Leon was bathing her.
"Don't be so frightened and so ashamed," he said. "You don't realize what a great advantage it is. To be taught to feel such pleasure is very difficult, and far more humiliating. And your passion gives a bloom to you that cannot be achieved otherwise."
Beauty cried softly. The little plaster between her legs made her all the more conscious of her feelings there. Yet Leon's hands and voice were soothing her.
Finally he told her she must lie down in the bath and he must wash her long beautiful hair for her. She let the warm water close over her and thought for a moment that she was covered by it and that felt extremely good to her.
As soon as she had been rinsed and dried, Beauty was put down on one of the beds nearby, and arranged on her face so that Leon could rub an aromatic oil into her skin.
It felt delicious to her.
"Now, surely," he said as he was massaging her shoulders, "there must be questions that you should like to ask me. You may do that if you like. It is not good for you to be confused about things unnecessarily. There is enough for you to fear without fears that are imaginary."
"I may...talk to you then?" Beauty asked.
"Yes," he said. "I'm your groom. In a way, I belong to you. Each slave, no matter how he or she ranks or pleases or displeases, has a groom, and that groom is devoted to that slave, to that slave's needs and wishes, as well as preparing the slave for the master. Now, of course, there will be times when I shall have to punish you, not because I take pleasure in it, though I can't imagine punishing a more beautiful slave than you, but because your master may order it. He may order you punished for disobedience, or merely readied for him with some blows. But I will be doing it only because I have to..."
"But do you...do you take pleasure in it?" Beauty asked timidly.
"It is difficult to resist beauty such as yours," he said, rubbing the oil into the backs of her arms and into the crevices of her elbows. "But I should much rather groom you and care for you." He put down the oil and gave her hair another brisk rub with the towel, adjusting the pillow under her face.
It felt so good to be lying here, with his hands working on her.
"But as I was saying before, you may ask me questions when I give you leave. Remember, when I give you leave, and I have just given it."
"I don't know what to ask," she whispered. "There is so much to ask..."
"Well, surely you must know already that all punishments here are for the pleasure of your masters and mistresses..."
"Yes."
"And that nothing shall ever be done which truly harms you. You will never be burned, nor cut, nor injured," he said.
"Ah, that is a great relief," Beauty said, but in truth she had understood these limits without being told. "But the other slaves," she asked. "Are they here for various reasons?"
"Sent as Tributes mostly," Leon answered. "Our Queen is very powerful and commands many allies. And of course, all Tributes are well fed, well guarded, well treated just as you are well treated."
"And...what happens to them?" Beauty asked tentatively. "I mean, they are all young and..."
"They're returned to their Kingdoms when the Queen so wishes, and obviously very much better off for their service here. They're not so vain any longer, they have great self-control, and often a different view of the world, one which enables them to achieve great understanding."
Beauty could scarcely guess what this meant. Leon massaged the oil into her sore calves and the tender flesh behind her knees. She felt drowsy. The sensation was growing ever more delicious, and she resisted it slightly, unwilling to let that craving between her legs torment her. Leon's fingers were strong, almost a little too strong, and they moved to her thighs, which the Prince had reddened with his strap as much as her calves and bu**ocks. She shifted slightly against the soft, firm bedding. Her thoughts slowly cleared.
"Then I might be sent home," she asked, but it had no meaning for her.
"Yes, but you must never mention it, and certainly never ask for it. You are the property of your Prince. You are his slave entirely."
"Yes..." she whispered.
"And to beg to be released would be a terrible thing," Leon continued. "However in time you will be sent home. There are different agreements for different slaves. Do you see that Princess there?"
In a great hollow in the wall, on a shelf-like bed, lay a dark-haired girl whom Beauty had noticed. She had olive skin, richer in tone than that of Prince Alexi who was also dark, and her hair was so long it lay in rippling strands over her bu**ocks. She slept with her face to the room, her mouth slightly open on the flat pillow.
"Now, she is Princess Eugenia," said Leon, "and she must be returned in two years by agreement. Her time is almost up and she is broken-hearted. She wants to remain on the condition that her continued slavery will save two slaves from having to come here. Her Kingdom might agree to these terms to keep back two other Princesses."
"You mean she wants to stay?"
"O yes," Leon said. "She is mad for Lord William, the Queen's eldest cousin, and can't bear the thought of being sent home. But there are others who are ever rebellious."
