The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (16 page)

Beauty broke into fresh sobs. She hated this lovely Lady. She wanted to destroy her. She felt such savage thoughts, and yet she wanted at the same moment to cling to her, to sob against her breast. She thought of friends she’d had at her father’s Court, her Ladies in waiting, and how many times they had been easily affectionate with one another, and she wanted to abandon herself to the same affection. The brushing of her hair produced a tingling all through her scalp and through the flesh of her arms as well. And when the Lady’s left hand covered her breasts and gently patted them, she felt herself defenseless. Her mouth went slack and she turned towards the Lady Juliana and laid her forehead against her knee, defeated.

“Poor, darling one,” said the Lady. “But the Bridle Path is not so dreadful. You will be grateful afterwards that you were used rigorously in the beginning, for it will all the sooner soften you.”

“Familiar sentiments,” Beauty thought.

“Perhaps,” the Lady Juliana went on with the rhythmic stroking of the brush, “I shall ride beside you.”

What could this mean?

And then the Prince said:

“Take her back to the Hall now.”

Without explanations, without farewells, without tenderness!

Beauty turned and rushed to him on her hands and knees and gave his boots fervent kisses. Again and again she kissed them both, hoping for what she did not know, one real embrace from him perhaps, something to allay her fears of the Bridle Path.

The Prince received her kisses for a long time, and then he lifted her and turned her to Lady Juliana who clasped Beauty’s hands behind her back.

“Be obedient, beautiful one,” she said.

“Yes, you ride beside her,” said the Prince. “But you must make a good show of it.”

“Of course, I should very much enjoy making a good show of it,” said the Lady Juliana, “and it is best for you both. She is a slave, and all slaves desire a firm mistress and master. If they cannot be free, then they do not like for there to be ambivalence. I shall be most firm with her, but always loving.”

“Take her back to the Hall,” said the Prince. “My mother will not allow me to keep her here.”

A
S SOON as Beauty opened her eyes from sleep, she could feel a new excitement in the castle.

Torches everywhere brilliantly illuminated the Slaves’ Hall, and all about her Princes and Princesses were receiving elaborate preparation. The hair of the Princesses was being combed and studded with flowers. The Princes were being polished with oil, their stiff curls combed just as carefully as those of the young women.

But Beauty was hastily taken from bed by Leon who seemed uncommonly excited.

“It’s Festival Night, Beauty,” he said, “and I’ve allowed you to sleep a long time. We must hurry.”

“Festival Night,” she whispered.

But she was already being placed on the table for grooming.

At once he parted her hair and started to braid it. She felt the air on her neck and hated it, and she realized he had started the braids very high on her head so she would look even more girlish than Lady Juliana. A long black leather thong was braided into the hair on both sides, and knotted around the ends with a little brass bell affixed to it. When Leon dropped the braids they were heavy against Beauty’s breasts and her neck was exposed as well as all of her face.

“Charming, charming,” Leon mused with his usual air of satisfaction. “But now your boots.”

And slipping her into a pair of high black leather boots he told her to stand in them while he bent to lace them tightly to her knees and then smooth the leather around her ankles until it was cleaving like a glove there.

Not until Beauty lifted her foot did she realize each boot was fitted at toe and heel with a horseshoe. And the tops were hard and strong so that nothing could hurt her toes.

“But what is happening, what is the Bridle Path?” she asked in a great fluster.

“Shhhhh ...” Leon said, pinching and prodding her breasts to give them as he said, “some color.”

He then glossed Beauty’s eyelids and eyelashes with oil and smoothed a little rouge into her lips and into her nipples. Beauty drew back instinctively but his touch was sure and quick and he took no notice of her.

But what bothered her most was that her body felt cool and vulnerable. She could feel the sheathing of leather against her calves, and all the rest of her felt worse than naked. It was more terrible than any of the smaller adornments.

“What is going to take place?” she asked again, but Leon had thrust her over the end of the table and now oiled her buttocks vigorously. “Well healed,” he said. “The Prince must have guessed last night you would run tonight and he spared you.”

Beauty felt his strong fingers plying her flesh and a dread came over her. So they would spank her, but they always did. Only it would be in the presence of many others?

Every humiliating spank she had received before the eyes of others had cost her dearly, though she knew now she would suffer any amount of paddling for the Prince, but she had not really been given a hard, thorough spanking for the pleasure of others since the Inn on the road where the Innkeeper’s daughter had spanked her for the soldiers and the common people at the windows.

“But it must come,” she thought. And a vision of the Court watching it as some ritual caused her to feel an undeniable curiosity that soon enough gave way to panic. “My Lord, please tell me ...”

Amid the crowd about her, she saw other girls with braided hair and boots. So she was not alone. And there were Princes being fitted with boots also.

Through it all there moved a handful of young Princes on their hands and knees polishing boots as quickly as they could, their own buttocks raw, their necks encircled by a little cord of leather to which was attached a sign that Beauty could not read.

But now as Leon brought her up standing again and gave some finishing touches to her lips and eyelashes, one of these Princes was now buffing her boots though he was weeping. His buttocks were as red as it could have been. And she saw the sign about his neck said, “I am in Disgrace,” in small letters.

A Page approached and gave the Prince a sound crack with a belt to hurry him on to another.

But Beauty had no time to think of it. Leon had affixed the accursed little brass bells to her nipples.

She shuddered almost instinctively but they were firmly attached, and he told her to fold her arms behind her back tightly.

“Now forward, only you are to bend your knees slightly and to march, lifting each knee high,” he told her.

She started, awkwardly, reluctant to obey, but then she saw all about her other Princesses marching in an almost sprightly manner, their breasts bouncing gracefully as they moved into the corridor.

She hurried, the heavy boots difficult for her to lift with any decorum, but soon she had fallen into a rhythm and Leon was walking beside her.

“Now, darling,” he said, “the first time is always difficult. Festival Night is frightening. I had thought some easier duty would be yours this first time, but the Queen has ordered you especially for the Bridle Path, and the Lady Juliana will drive you.”

“Ah, but what ...”

“Shhhh, or I shall have to gag you and that will very much displease the Queen as well as make your mouth quite ugly.”

All the girls were now in a long room, and through narrow windows on one wall, Beauty could see the garden.

Torches flared in the dark trees, throwing an uneven glare on the leafy boughs above them. The line of girls formed right beside these windows, and Beauty was now able to see more of what lay beyond them.

There was a great roar as of many people conversing, laughing. And then to her shock Beauty saw slaves all through the garden positioned in various ways for their torment.

On high stakes here and there were strapped Princes and Princesses painfully contorted, their ankles bound to the stakes, their shoulders bent over the tops of them. They seemed no more than ornaments, the torchlight causing their twisted limbs to glow, the hair of the Princesses falling free in the air behind them. Surely they could see only the sky above, though all could see their miserable contortions.

And everywhere beneath were the Lords and Ladies, the light falling upon a long embroidered cloak here, a pointed hat there with a veil trailing airily from it. There were hundreds in the garden, these tables placed far back into the trees, as far as Beauty could see in all directions.

Beautifully adorned slaves moved about, pitchers in hand, little gold chains fixed to their breasts, the Princes adorned with gold rings on their erect organs. They hurried to fill the goblets, pass the platters of food, and as in the great hall there was music.

The line of girls before Beauty grew restless. Beauty could hear one girl crying as her groom tried to comfort her, but most of the others were obedient. Here and there a groom rubbed more oil into plump buttocks or whispered in a Princess’s ear, and Beauty’s sense of apprehension deepened.

She did not want to look into the yard; it frightened her too much, but she could not prevent herself. And each time she saw some new horror. A great wall to the left, was adorned with spread-eagled slaves, and on a huge serving cart she saw slaves fixed to the giant wheels, turned upside down over and over as the cart was moved forward.

“But what will happen to us?” Beauty whispered. The girl in line before her who could not be quieted was now hanging by her ankle from the hand of a strong Page who punished her swiftly. Beauty gasped to see her spanked, her braids falling to the floor beneath her.

“Shh, it is best for her,” Leon said, “it will exhaust her fear and drain her slightly. And she will be all the more free on the Bridle Path.”

“But tell me ...”

“You must be still. You will see the others first and understand, and as we draw nearer to your turn I shall instruct you. Remember this is a special night of high festivity, but the Queen will be watching. And the Prince will be furious if you fail him.”

Beauty’s eyes returned to the garden. The great cart of steaming food had moved along, and for the first time she saw the distant fountain. Here too were bound slaves, their arms linked as they stood knee deep in the water, surrounding the central pillar, its sparkling flow pouring down over them. Their bodies glistened under the water.

The groom beside the girl in front of Beauty laughed softly and said that someone was miserable to be missing Festival Night but it was her own fault.

“Surely,” Leon agreed when the groom glanced back to him. “They are talking about Princess Lizetta,” he told Beauty, “who is still in the Hall of Punishments, and cursing no doubt to miss the excitement.”

To miss the excitement! But in spite of her fear, Beauty nodded at this as if it were perfectly natural. A calm descended upon her in which she heard her own heart and felt her body as if there were limitless time in which to know it. She felt the sheathing of the leather boots, the click of her horseshoes on the stones, the air on her neck, her belly. And she thought, “Yes, this is what I am, so I should not wish to miss it either. Yet I rebel in my soul; why do I rebel?”

“O, I despise that miserable Lord Gerhardt, why must he drive me?” asked the girl before her in a low voice. The groom said something that made her laugh. “But he’s so slow,” she said, “savoring every moment. And I like to run!” The groom laughed at her. She went on, “and what do I get out of it?—the most miserable spanking. I could take the spanking if I could only cut loose and run ...”

“You want everything!” said the groom.

“And what do you want? Don’t tell me you don’t like it when I’m covered with welts and almost blistered!”

The groom laughed. He had a cheerful face, and was small of build, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, though his chestnut hair fell down over his eyes slightly.

“My dear, I love everything about you,” he said. “And so does Lord Gerhardt. Now say something to comfort Leon’s little pet, she’s so frightened.”

The girl turned and Beauty saw her pert face, eyes slanting at the ends somewhat like the eyes of the Queen, but they were smaller, with no cruelty. She smiled with full little red lips. “Don’t be frightened, Beauty,” she said, “but you have no need for comfort from me. You have the Prince. I have only Lord Gerhardt.”

A great current of laughter passed through the garden. The musicians were playing loudly, with much strumming of their lutes and tapping of the tambourines, and then Beauty quite distinctly heard the thunder of hooves approaching. A rider shot past the windows, his cape flying out behind him, his horse bridled in silver and gold which made a streak of light as he rushed forward.

“O, at last, at last,” said the girl in front of Beauty. Other riders were coming, and they were making a line all along the wall that almost blocked Beauty’s view of the garden. She could not bear to look up at them, but she did and saw they were splendid Ladies and Lords, and each held the reins of the horse in his or her left hand, and in the right a long rectangular black paddle.

“Now, into the room,” said Lord Gregory, and the slaves who had waited in a long line were ushered into the next chamber where they stood directly facing the arched door to the garden. Beauty could see now that a young Prince was first in line, and she saw that mounted Lord, his horse pawing the dirt before the archway.

Leon moved Beauty a little to the side. “Now you can see better,” he said.

And she saw the Prince clasp his hands behind his neck and step forward.

A trumpet sounded, catching Beauty off guard so she gasped. And a cry rose from the crowd behind the archway. The young slave was forced out and at once greeted by the black leather paddle of the Lord on horse-back.

Immediately the slave commenced to run.