Beauty's Release (12 page)

There was an ecstatic freedom in whipping him, not for revenge or anything so foolish or thoughtful. It was merely the completion of a cycle. I loved the sound of the strap smacking him, loved the way his buttocks had begun to dance a little in spite of his efforts to still himself.

He was beginning to change all over. With another series of smacks, his head went down and his back arched as though he was trying to draw his buttocks in. Absolutely useless. And then they danced out again, swayed. He moaned. He couldn’t help it any longer. His whole body was swaying, dancing, an overall undulating in response to the strap.

I knew I must have done that when I was whipped, a thousand times without realizing I was doing it. I’d always been lost in the sound, the sweet, hot explosions of pain, the sudden itching right before the strap hit. I gave him a quick volley of really hard licks, and he moaned in time with each of them. In fact, he wasn’t even trying to rein himself in. His body was glistening with moisture, the redness alive on the surface of his skin, and he was in constant elegant movement.

I heard a sob against the gag. Good enough. I stopped and went round to the head of the bed and looked at his face. Nice show of tears. But there was no impertinence. I untied his hands.

“Get off onto the floor with your hands down in front of you and straighten your legs,” I said.

Slowly, with head bowed, he obeyed. I loved the way his hair fell down in his eyes, the way the gag bound the rest of it. He was thoroughly chastised now. And his backside was nice and hot, burning hot.

I lifted it high with both hands and I made him walk on all fours that way, buttocks up to my pelvis as I walked behind him. I stepped back and whipped him hard in a good circle around the room, made him go quickly. The sweat poured down his arms. His reddened backside would have gotten compliments at the castle.

“Come here, stand still.” I said. And I went between his legs again and entered him, startling him, so that he cried out behind the gag.

I reached out and untied the knot behind his head, but I held the two pieces of silk like horses’s reins, pulling his head up, and I pumped into him, shoving him forward, his head nice and high, the reins holding him. He was sobbing, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from humiliation or pain or both. His backside felt so hot against me, so delicious, and he was so tight.

I came again, spurting into him in violent jerks. And he bore it, not daring to lower his head, the silk taut in my hands.

When it was done, I reached under his belly and felt his cock. Hard. He was a good slave.

I laughed softly. I let the gag drop away. And I went round in front of him.

“Stand up,” I said. “I’ve finished with you.”

He obeyed. He was glistening all over. Even his jet-black hair gave off a shimmer. The look in his eyes was mellow and profound, and his mouth looked luscious. We stared into each other’s eyes.

“You may do what you like with me now,” I said. “I suppose you’ve earned the privilege.” But the mouth— why hadn’t I kissed him? I bent forward—we were the same height—and I did kiss him. I kissed him very tenderly, and he didn’t move to resist me. He opened his mouth to me.

My cock came up again. In fact, the pleasure washed through me. It started grinding in me. But it didn’t hurt anymore. It was sweet, getting harder and harder and kissing him, this silken giant.

I let him go. I reached up and felt the line of his jaw where the well-shaven hair was just coming out as it does late in the day. I felt the bristle over his lip, on his chin.

His eyes had an indescribable luster. It was the soul but the soul through a veil of beauty that was distracting.

I folded my arms, and I walked over close to the door, and I knelt down there.

So let all hell break loose, I thought. I heard him moving about, saw out of the corner of my eye that he was dressing, running a comb through his hair, straightening his clothes with quick, angry gestures.

I knew he was confused. But so was 1. I had never done such things before to anyone, and I had never dreamed how much I would love it, how much I had wanted to do it. I wanted suddenly to cry. And I felt terrified and sad; and half in love with him; and I hated him because he had shown all this to me; and I felt triumphant—all at the same time.

BEAUTY: MYSTERIOUS CUSTOMS

I
T SEEMED a quarter of an hour had passed, and still the double doors had not closed. Now and then they had moved, creaked on their hinges a little, the opening narrowing, then widening. Beauty, shivering and weeping in the tight gold wrappings, knew that someone was watching her. She tried to still the tumult in her mind, but she could not. And, when panic swept over her again, she struggled violently and uselessly, the bonds holding her quite firmly.

The door opened wider. And it seemed her heart stopped altogether. She lowered her gaze as best she could with her chin thrust up by the collar. And her tears melted everything into a golden glow through which she saw a richly dressed Lord approaching her. His head was covered by an emerald-green velvet hood embroidered in gold, and his cloak covered him to the floor, his face completely veiled in shadow.

Quite suddenly Beauty felt a hand on her wet sex, and she swallowed a sob as the hand pulled at her pubic hair and pinched her lips, and then parted them with two fingers. She gasped, biting into her lip, trying to be quiet. The fingers pinched her clitoris and pulled on it, as if to stretch it. She moaned aloud, forgetting to close her lips, and the tears slid down her cheeks faster than before, as a gasp caught in her throat with a low, strangled sound.

The hand withdrew. She shut her eyes, waiting for the man to move on, to go down the corridor as the others had towards the distant sound of the music. But he remained there, right in front of her, looking at her. And her soft cries echoed abominably in the marble alcove.

Never before had she been so tightly bound, so helpless. And never had she known such silent tension, as the figure stood before her doing nothing.

But quite suddenly she heard a small voice, a timid voice, speak to her. It said words she couldn’t understand and the name “Inanna.” With a shock, Beauty realized this was a woman’s voice. It was a woman saying her own name, and Beauty saw that this was no Lord at all, this creature in the emerald cloak. Rather it was the violet-eyed woman from the harem.

“Inanna,” the woman said again. And she lifted her finger to her lips, gesturing for silence. Her expression wasn’t fearful, however. It was determined.

And the sight of the woman covered in the splendid green robe subdued Beauty and strangely aroused her. “Inanna,” she thought. “What a lovely name. But what does this creature, Inanna, want of me?” She stared back unabashedly as Inanna looked up at her. Ferocious eyes, they seemed now, and the mouth bittersweet, and the blood dancing underneath the olive skin as it must have danced in Beauty’s face. The silence between them was charged with emotion.

Then Inanna moved her hand inside her robes and she drew out a large pair of golden scissors. At once, she opened the scissors and slipped them under the silk wrappings that crossed over Beauty’s belly, and she cut the cloth in big slow strokes, easing the cold metal up Beauty’s flesh as the cloth fell away quickly.

Beauty could not see this happening because of the high collar. But she felt it keenly, felt the scissors’s blade crawling down her left leg and then her right and the tight cloth falling away without a sound to release her. In an instant, she was free of all covering and she could move her arms; and only the collar held her. But Inanna stepped up into the niche and released the hook, and, freeing Beauty from the collar, she took her down out of the niche and towards the doorway.

Beauty glanced back at the open collar and the abandoned silk. Surely others would discover this. But what could she do? This woman was her Mistress, wasn’t she? She hesitated, but Inanna opened her cloak and covered Beauty with it and took her through the doors and into a large chamber.

Through a wall of filigree, Beauty saw a bed and a bath, but Inanna pulled her past this, and through another door, and down a narrow passage, one perhaps that only servants used. And as Beauty hurried, the cloak draping her but not covering her, she could feel the body of Inanna next to her, the thick fabric over her breasts, her hips, her arm. Beauty was excited and afraid and half amused by what was happening.

When they reached another door, Inanna opened it and immediately bolted it behind them. They came to another screen, and beyond it was another bedchamber. All the doors were bolted.

The room seemed royal to Beauty because it was immense, its walls covered in delicate flower mosaics, its windows screened and draped in sheer gold cloth, its great white bed strewn with gold satin pillows. Thick white candles burned in their high stands. The light was even and the air warm, the entire room, in spite of its grandeur, soothing and inviting.

Inanna left Beauty and advanced to the bed. With her back to Beauty she took off the emerald robe and hood, and she knelt and hid them beneath the bed, smoothing the white drapery carefully.

She turned around, and the two women looked at each other. Beauty was stunned by Inanna’s loveliness, the deep violet of her eyes flaming now on account of her violet garments, the tight thick bodice perfectly revealing the outlines of her nipples. The girdle was gilded metal and higher, tighter than the one she had worn before, coming to a point beneath her breasts and descending in another point almost to her sex, which was covered in tight little pants of fabric as thick as that of the bodice. Her loose pantaloons shimmered as they veiled her naked legs to the cuffs at her ankles.

Beauty took in all of it, took in Inanna’s dark hair and the jewels that studded it, and the way that Inanna’s eyes fixed upon her, considering her. But Beauty’s eyes returned again and again to the girdle. She wanted to open the long row of tiny metal hooks and release the body within. How terrible it was that the wives of the Sultan were like slaves, that they wore this ornate instrument of binding and punishment.

She thought of the women of the harem who had played with her, given her pleasure, worked her as if she were a jointed doll, yet never revealed anything of themselves. Were they denied pleasure?

She looked at Inanna and said silently, with all her being:

“What is it you want of me?” Her own body was full of craving and curiosity and renewed vigor.

Inanna came forward and looked at Beauty, looked at her nakedness. Beauty felt natural, suddenly, and free. And she reached out tentatively, and felt the hard metallic bands of the girdle. Why, the thing was actually hinged at the sides, she realized, and the fabric binding Inanna’s breasts and sex looked unbearably hot, confining.

“You took me out of my wrappings,” Beauty thought. “Should I take you out of yours?” She lifted her hand, and with her first and second fingers made a gesture that mimicked the cutting of the scissors. She pointed to Inanna’s garments. She raised her eyebrows inquiringly, repeating the motion as if she were snipping.

Inanna understood, and her face radiated delight. She even laughed. But then her face went dark. Bittersweet again. “What a terrible thing to be so pretty when you are sad,” Beauty thought. “Sadness shouldn’t be pretty.”

But Inanna took Beauty’s hand suddenly and led her to the bed. They sat down together. Inanna stared at Beauty’s breasts, and slowly Beauty lifted them with her hands as if offering them. Her body shivered with sensuous feeling as she cupped the flesh and turned it towards Inanna, and Inanna flushed darkly and her lips quivered, her tongue appearing between her teeth for an instant. As she looked at Beauty’s breasts, her hair fell down in her face, and the sight of her bent slightly forward, the hair cascading over her shoulders and the tight metal girdle binding her, made Beauty simmer with desire inexplicably.

Beauty reached out and touched the metal girdle. Inanna drew back just a little, but she kept her hands still as if she were powerless. And Beauty closed her hands on the hard cold thing, and this too inexplicably excited her. She opened the clasps one after another. Each made a tiny clicking sound. But now the girdle was ready to come off. She had only to slide her fingers under it and pull it apart.

She did so suddenly, gritting her teeth, and the metal shell released Inanna’s waist and the fine wrinkled cloth gathered around it. Inanna shuddered, and her cheeks went crimson. Beauty drew nearer and tore the violet cloth of the bodice, all the way down into the tight pants under the pantaloons. Not a finger lifted to stop her. And then the breasts were free, magnificent breasts, very firm and high, with nipples of a dark rose color, and slightly tipped upward.

Inanna was blushing and shivering uncontrollably. Beauty could feel her heat, yet it seemed unaccountably innocent. She touched the back of her curled hand to Inanna’s cheek. And Inanna inclined her head gently to receive the touch. She was clearly in a paroxysm of passion and did not seem to understand it.

Beauty reached for the breasts, but then changed her mind, and she ripped at the cloth again, revealing the smooth curve of Inanna’s belly. Then the woman stood up, and she too pushed at the cloth until her pants and pantaloons fell down around her ankles. Shuddering still, her hands trembling, she pulled the tangled garments away from her feet, and she stared at Beauty, her face on the verge of some terrible outburst.

Beauty reached to take her hand. But Inanna backed away. The act of showing herself naked had overwhelmed her. She reached as if to cover her enormous breasts, or the triangle of her pubic hair, but then, sensing the foolishness of it, she clasped her hands behind her back, then in front, helplessly. She implored Beauty with her eyes.

Beauty rose and came towards her. She took her by the shoulders, and Inanna bowed her head. “Why, you are like a frightened virgin,” Beauty thought. And she kissed Inanna’s burning cheek, their breasts touching. Inanna suddenly opened her arms to Beauty, and her lips found Beauty’s neck and covered it with kisses as Beauty sighed and let the sensation pass through her in delicious silvery ripples, like a sound echoing through a long passage. The fact was Inanna boiled with heat. She was hotter than anyone Beauty had ever touched. The passion was spilling out of her even hotter than it did from the Master, Lexius.