hard it seemed, and Beauty felt she hated him.
She could hear the Lord beside her laughing. There was a little loose crowd about her now, men and women drinking, talking idly. The dancers moved in a long chain, performing their fluid and graceful movements.
“So you see you aren’t the only helpless little creature in this world,” said the gray-eyed Lord, “and does it soothe you to see the Tribute that belongs to your Sovereigns ? You are the first Tribute for the Prince and I think that you shall have to set a fierce example. The young slave you saw, Prince Alexi, is very much a favorite of the Queen or he wouldn’t be dealt with so lightly.”
Beauty saw that the paddling had stopped. Once again, the slave was on his hands and knees and kissing the feet of the Queen as the Page waited in attendance.
Now the slave’s buttocks were very red. “Prince Alexi,” Beauty thought. It was a lovely name, and he too was of royal blood and high birth. Why, of course, all of them were. It was a delightful thought. What if they had not been, and she were the only Princess?
She stared at his buttocks. There were obvious welts on them and little patches that seemed much redder than the rest, and as the young slave Prince kissed the Queen’s feet, Beauty could see also his scrotum between his legs, dark, hairy and mysterious.
It struck her how dreadfully vulnerable he seemed, being a boy, in ways she had never considered.
But he had been released or forgiven. He rose to his feet, and brushed his auburn curly hair out of his eyes and back from his cheek, and she saw his face stained with tears, and reddened too; yet he had about him a marvelous dignity.
He took the pitcher handed him without complaint and gracefully he moved among the standing guests, filling their goblets.
He was only a few paces from Beauty, and drawing ever closer. And she could hear how the men and women teased him.
“Another paddling and you are so wretchedly clumsy,” said a very tall blond-haired Lady in a long green gown, with diamonds on her fingers, and she pinched his red cheek, as, with his eyes down, he smiled.
His penis was hard and erect as before, rising up thick and motionless from a nest of dark curly hair between his legs. Beauty could not stop herself from looking at it.
As he came nearer, she held her breath.
“Come here, Prince Alexi,” said the Lord with the gray eyes. He snapped his fingers. And then taking a white handkerchief, he had the boy moisten it with the wine.
The boy was so near now Beauty might have touched him. And the Lord took the moistened handkerchief and pressed it to Beauty’s lips. It felt good and cool and tantalizing.
But she could not help but look up at the obedient boy Prince who stood waiting, and she saw him looking at her.
And though his face was still slightly pink, and there were tears on his cheeks, he smiled at her.
THE PRINCE’S BED CHAMBER
B EAUTY AWOKE to new terror.
It was getting dusk; the Feast was over. The Lords and Ladies who remained were very loud and swept up in the fever of the afternoon, but she was being unbound and she did not know what would now happen to her.
Several other slaves had been soundly spanked during the course of the banquet, and it seemed finally that no offense was required, merely the decision of a Lord or Lady. The request was then granted by the Queen—and the unlucky one was thrust up over the Page’s knee, his head bowed, his feet dangling off the ground, and down came the golden paddle.
Twice it had been young women.
And one of them had broken into silent sobs. But there was in her manner something that made Beauty a little suspicious. After she was spanked, she scurried all too fast to the Queen’s feet, and Beauty hoped she would be spanked again until her sobs were real, and all her scurrying was real, and she found herself vaguely delighted when the Queen ordered it.
Now, as Beauty was awakened, she thought dreamily of all this,
She could hear the Lord beside her laughing. There was a little loose crowd about her now, men and women drinking, talking idly. The dancers moved in a long chain, performing their fluid and graceful movements.
“So you see you aren’t the only helpless little creature in this world,” said the gray-eyed Lord, “and does it soothe you to see the Tribute that belongs to your Sovereigns ? You are the first Tribute for the Prince and I think that you shall have to set a fierce example. The young slave you saw, Prince Alexi, is very much a favorite of the Queen or he wouldn’t be dealt with so lightly.”
Beauty saw that the paddling had stopped. Once again, the slave was on his hands and knees and kissing the feet of the Queen as the Page waited in attendance.
Now the slave’s buttocks were very red. “Prince Alexi,” Beauty thought. It was a lovely name, and he too was of royal blood and high birth. Why, of course, all of them were. It was a delightful thought. What if they had not been, and she were the only Princess?
She stared at his buttocks. There were obvious welts on them and little patches that seemed much redder than the rest, and as the young slave Prince kissed the Queen’s feet, Beauty could see also his scrotum between his legs, dark, hairy and mysterious.
It struck her how dreadfully vulnerable he seemed, being a boy, in ways she had never considered.
But he had been released or forgiven. He rose to his feet, and brushed his auburn curly hair out of his eyes and back from his cheek, and she saw his face stained with tears, and reddened too; yet he had about him a marvelous dignity.
He took the pitcher handed him without complaint and gracefully he moved among the standing guests, filling their goblets.
He was only a few paces from Beauty, and drawing ever closer. And she could hear how the men and women teased him.
“Another paddling and you are so wretchedly clumsy,” said a very tall blond-haired Lady in a long green gown, with diamonds on her fingers, and she pinched his red cheek, as, with his eyes down, he smiled.
His penis was hard and erect as before, rising up thick and motionless from a nest of dark curly hair between his legs. Beauty could not stop herself from looking at it.
As he came nearer, she held her breath.
“Come here, Prince Alexi,” said the Lord with the gray eyes. He snapped his fingers. And then taking a white handkerchief, he had the boy moisten it with the wine.
The boy was so near now Beauty might have touched him. And the Lord took the moistened handkerchief and pressed it to Beauty’s lips. It felt good and cool and tantalizing.
But she could not help but look up at the obedient boy Prince who stood waiting, and she saw him looking at her.
And though his face was still slightly pink, and there were tears on his cheeks, he smiled at her.
THE PRINCE’S BED CHAMBER
B EAUTY AWOKE to new terror.
It was getting dusk; the Feast was over. The Lords and Ladies who remained were very loud and swept up in the fever of the afternoon, but she was being unbound and she did not know what would now happen to her.
Several other slaves had been soundly spanked during the course of the banquet, and it seemed finally that no offense was required, merely the decision of a Lord or Lady. The request was then granted by the Queen—and the unlucky one was thrust up over the Page’s knee, his head bowed, his feet dangling off the ground, and down came the golden paddle.
Twice it had been young women.
And one of them had broken into silent sobs. But there was in her manner something that made Beauty a little suspicious. After she was spanked, she scurried all too fast to the Queen’s feet, and Beauty hoped she would be spanked again until her sobs were real, and all her scurrying was real, and she found herself vaguely delighted when the Queen ordered it.
Now, as Beauty was awakened, she thought dreamily of all this,
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