“No touching him there,” said the Captain to the others, whom I couldn’t see. “You may pinch and prod, but cocks starve in the Place of Public Punishment.” It had been so warm there and so dusty. “Yes, with feathers you can tease him, that’s fine, or whisk brooms, but that cock is to starve, and you know this.”
The Captain’s belt struck my backside, struck the flesh that was so sore and hot from the turntable. I knew it was the Captain.
“Now, you’re going to spend the day here, little boy,” he had said. “You’ll be spanked again up there at noon and again at dusk. And by late evening, when you’re brought up there for the last time, I want to see some composure, you understand me? I want to see an end to all that struggling. You’re here to learn to be the perfect little boy the Queen desires.” Crack of the strap.
“Prince, I think you should rest now,” said the lovely new queen leaning towards me. “You are pale and trembling.”
“I think you’re right,” I said. It was more of a stammer, a murmur. “And then later . . .”
Composure.
Well, I’d learned composure. But it was not there, not on that day, not with this man schooling me, though he had certainly given it his best. I’d learned it in the distant land of the Sultan, one of the last slaves privileged to know that strange exotic paradise before Lexius had come to warn all of its doom.
ii
My chambers were lavishly furnished. Two naked slaves were in attendance, and my befuddled servants and grooms were hustled off to a servants’ wing to be fed and rested. Fabien remained, of course, with a bed in an ample closet adjacent to my bedchamber.
The cold stone walls had been paneled in finely polished dark wood, and draped here and there with heavily embroidered hangings, and even the floors which had always been damp in my time were covered by scattered exotic carpets.
The bed was quite impressive, draped in linen as well as richly dyed wool, and the writing table and chairs were exquisitely carved with the usual curlicues and tiny animals. Indeed there were more wood movables in the room than I’d ever seen, stools, tables, cushioned benches, whatever one might desire for sitting, or a goblet or a foot, and even the great fireplace itself had a coat of arms carved in the stone chimney piece, though whose coat of arms it was I didn’t know.
The fire chased the damp, and the air outside was deliciously mild as it always was in Bellavalten. Perhaps the ancestors of the old queen would have never attempted naked pleasure slavery had not the kingdom existed in this sheltered valley, subject to warm breezes and a break in the mists that so often hover over coastlands.
I lay down on the bed and fell into a dead sleep for two hours.
It was only early afternoon when I waked, sat up, and looked about myself.
The two slaves knelt by the fireplace, facing me, sitting back on their heels, their heads bowed.
Immediately one rose, the girl slave, a beauty as were they all, but this one particularly was fair with the loveliest thick braids of blond hair and playful waves about her high smooth forehead. She came at once to the side of the bed with a goblet for me and a little plate of sliced apples.
“Master, what can I get for you?”
“Tell me if all the chambers in this new wing are so lavishly appointed,” I asked. I devoured the apple hungrily. It was all the food I wanted just now. I drank the cool water.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Throughout the castle all the rooms have been restored. Merchants came day after day for months from Italy, Spain, and lands to the east, with cartloads of tapestries and carpets for the refurnishing of the castle. Carts laden with beds and furnishings arrived every morning for so long, and even now the carpenters are at work in the Queen’s Village, though now it’s called the Royal Village.”
She had pretty eyes, and plump cheeks, though her chin was small and delicate. Her breasts appeared slightly moist, dewy, and this time I didn’t resist the urge to slip my hand between her legs, to feel the soft warm pubic hair, and the lips, so naked, so tender.
She held quite still as I did this, the goblet and plate in her hand, not daring to move.
“And have you been here since the King and Queen came?” I asked.
“I’ve been here for two years, Master,” she said. “I was sent from a homeland that is gone now. I am at home here with the King’s blessing.”
Just the faintest blush flared in her white cheeks.
I examined her nipples idly, pinching them to make them nice and hard. How many times had that been done to me, how many times a day? I felt the old hands polishing my balls and cock with oil, oiling my anus, the old idle spanks, the pinching of my thighs.
She was incomparably lovely, but then so were they all.
“And your name, precious?” I asked.
“It is Kiera, Master. That’s the new name that the King gave me when I was anointed in the Goddess Grove.”
“Anointed? What in the world are you talking about?” I probed. I took the goblet again and drank the rest of the water.
“My lord, that is how it is done now with all new slaves, and of course those of us who had been here before had to renew our vow. We are taken to the Goddess Grove at night, by torchlight, and there we are confirmed in our given names or the new names we have chosen, and there we are received with kisses by King Laurent and Queen Beauty and blessed for two years’ service. Of course the new ones are on probation for six months. But we are not, as we are well trained already.”
It was difficult for her to keep her eyes down. She stole a lightning glance at me as she spoke.
“You may look at me, Kiera,” I said, “though you must do it respectfully.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said.
I looked at the boy slave who knelt as before, waiting, it seemed, for my permission to rise.
“And your brother slave there,” I asked. “His name? Come here, young man.”
“Bertram is his name, my lord,” said Kiera.
Bertram rose at once and came to the girl’s side.
He was tall, very fair skinned with almost white hair, tousled and thick, yet trimmed just below his ears to unruly waves. Clearly he’d been sleeping as he knelt by the fire, and his big gray eyes were dreamy. His cock was coming awake. Motioning for the girl to move back I beckoned for him to come forward. Quite a cock. Not just long but thick.
“And you, Bertram?” I asked. “Have you been here long?”
“I was received a month ago, sire,” he said. His voice was quaking. Indeed I could see now that he was very anxious. The muscles of his belly were tightening. He had good powerful arms, and elegant hands that hung at his sides.
The curling hair around his cock was dark, the color of ash or smoke, as so often happens with blond-haired boys.
“And anointed in the grove?” I asked.
“Yes, sir, and I will be confirmed in five months, if I please, my lord, and I hope to please you.” He was as modest as the girl, gazing downward. His cock was now hard as a branch.
“Of course, you do,” I said. “And are you of royal birth?”
“No, my lord.” He blushed. “I was a clerk, a scribe. I heard of the new kingdom and came as quickly as I could.”
“Go on,” I said. I took another slice of the apple and munched on it.
“I rode night and day, my lord,” he said. “I walked the last two days as I sold my mount for the last part of the journey. I wanted so to serve. I was accepted at once, and I’m grateful for that.”
“Hmmm, impressive,” I said. “You’re as handsome as any prince I ever knew here. How many other magnificent flowers are there—beyond these walls, out there in the world—as fragrant and beautiful as the royal blooms that once adorned these halls? Turn around, both of you.”
How many times had I been ordered to do that, and to stand silent for inspection of the most in
timate sort?
My cock was getting hard looking at them, at their firm bottoms and straight backs, at their silky skin. The boy’s bottom was lean and I could see his pink little anus plainly enough and his heavy balls. Very inviting.
But I wanted to go outdoors. I wanted to see the village. I wanted to use the daylight hours while they lasted.
“Very well, both of you, turn back around.”
Fabien had wakened in his closet and come into the room, fully dressed as before, and he was holding my belt and tunic.
“Now, are you assigned to me, children?” I asked. “Or do you belong to this chamber or the hour of the day?”
I slipped off the bed and they stepped aside as Fabien put my tunic over my head and smoothed it down while I put my arms through the sleeves.
“We are yours, my lord, chosen for you by Prince Alexi and King Laurent, who hoped we would be pleasing to you, and will only retire when you dismiss us, at which time other slaves shall come, also chosen.”
“Ah, the kingdom is rich,” I said.
I took the girl’s face in my hands and kissed her on the lips. She smelled of flowers and fresh air, and her little mouth quivered and stiffened against my lips.
It seemed a shock ran through her and then it passed into me.
I shifted uncomfortably, and stood back for Fabien to buckle my belt. These were heavy Russian garments. I would change later to the lighter shorter belted tunic and swap these trousers for leggings. But now it didn’t matter.
I took the boy’s face and kissed him as well. He was my height. Utterly passive. When I was new, I’d trembled or shaken every time I was touched or kissed, and the old queen had been furious, but this lad was perfect.
And to think, if this boy does not please, he will not only be whipped for the next six months, harder and longer and more angrily than other slaves who do please, but sent away when the period of testing is over. Will he beg to remain? Will they make a groom of him perhaps?
I looked at both of them for a long moment.
“Fabien, go see if the Captain of the Guard is still prepared to take me down to the village.” I eyed the boy and girl.
“Yes, my lord, he is and has come twice to ask after you,” Fabien said. “I’ll go tell him that you’re ready.”
“Bertram and Kiera,” I said. “Tell me. How many of Queen Eleanor’s slaves left when allowed to do so? The new king and queen did allow them the choice, did they not?”
“Yes, my lord,” the girl answered. She was clearly the more confident, but the boy’s voice was as cultured as hers. “They were allowed to make the choice. Two made the choice but only when the King allowed that they might return at some point in the future.”
“Two out of the whole kingdom?”
“There were only a few hundred slaves, my lord,” Kiera explained. “And most had been here a long time. The old queen, she was not—”
“I know, I’ve heard. She was tired, indifferent. Very well, I understand.”
“Some of the great families, they insisted that they still be able to send their royal sons and daughters here,” Kiera volunteered. “But the King and Queen were resolute. All slaves must be of age to decide for themselves. And so these kingdoms have been choosing from willing subjects of all rank and sending new offerings.”
“I see. Well, I’m going out now, and you will remain here as you’ve no doubt been instructed.”
“Yes, my lord,” came from both of them more or less at the same moment, and they stood back, the girl still holding the two shining silver implements and the boy as submissive as before.
Oh, the hours of boredom. How I remembered that too, waiting, and the agony of my aching cock, and so longing for the slightest touch, even of the belt or the paddle, or fingers, living fingers.
I went to the window and looked out. I was on the top floor here, some five stories above the ground. The window was a great open arch, and the air was filled with the scent of orange blossoms or something just as sweet.
Below I saw gardens sprawling in all directions, with trees and neatly trimmed shrubbery running in courses and what seemed beaten pathways, those soft dusty pathways so silken to bare feet that I remembered from the old days, and figures, well-attired figures moving all over, and slaves, slaves everywhere. Countless courts and squares were visible and the sparkling dance of fountains.
I could make out the vast central garden of old surrounded by the Bridle Path and indeed I realized that slaves were being spanked along the rectangular courses of the Bridle Path now by mounted figures.
“Kiera, why is the Bridle Path in use at this hour?” I asked, beckoning for the girl to come to me. “In my time it was in the morning and the evening.”
She came up near silently beside me. Again, that whiff of sweet perfume.
“My lord, it is always busy now, the Bridle Path,” she said. “And the Hunt in the Maze and so many other games. There is always feasting outdoors. There are so many guests, so many slaves.”
“I see. And were you both paddled on the path this morning? I saw no evidence of that.”
“We were pardoned to attend you, my lord,” she explained. “We are yours for as long as you want us. We are fresh for you.”
“Indeed you are,” I said, kissing her again. “Now back to your places by the fireplace, both of you.”
They rushed to obey.
Fabien had returned. He held the door open for me.
iii
I had entered the great castle by its north gates. And the gardens I’d seen below lay to the east and the south as far as I could figure, something perhaps that I’d never thought about in years past. And I was led out now through a western gate to a vast paved courtyard.
There was a paved road leading out of it of the smoothest stones and right before us stood a great gilded chariot of sorts, in which three or four men might stand. Ample to hold me and Captain Gordon and, wonder of wonders, my beloved Prince Alexi, who came to join us.
But what astonished me more than anything, even more than the vibrant and welcoming smile on Alexi’s face, was the great team of human ponies outfitted and ready to pull the chariot. I was stunned, speechless at the sheer spectacle of it. I noticed the handsome grooms in their ornate blue-and-gold livery, with long flat straps in their hands, or hooked to their belts, who stood back away from us and the team. There were four of them. Their clothes were richer than those of the servants I’d seen earlier at the castle, who wore the very same colors, but had no straps in hand or hanging from their belts.
Alexi wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me warmly. Ponies or no ponies, this was an exquisite moment.
“Dmitri, I’m so glad you’re here,” he said. Ah, such a beautiful deep voice, and the same delicate dark skin. “So very glad. You will allow me to go down to the village with you.”
“Oh, most certainly,” I said, holding him to my heart. “Alexi, you look as fit and happy as you were the day we rode out of here.” Indeed he did. His auburn hair was long, curling, and beautifully groomed, and his face was fresh and rested and his dark eyes brilliantly clear. He was attired in burgundy velvet, a short tunic and leggings and boots, and he wore a great gold chain around his neck with a disk on it. There was writing on the disk. I knew there would be time for him to explain its significance to me.
“Come on, let’s go. We can talk on the way,” Alexi said. “You look positively dazed, my friend. This chariot was made specially by King Laurent in the fashion of olden times.” He gestured to it, and indeed it was grand. “I believe it’s called a quadriga.”
The silent grooms were looking us over furtively, but their eyes were mainly fixed anxiously on the sixteen ponies.
“Perhaps you’d like to see the ponies first, Prince,” said the Captain, but it was said in a cautious respectful voice, and once again, I heard the old voice behind i
t, the voice that had commanded me to the village stables when I’d returned from the sultanate. “The Queen wants all that exotic softness cleaned away,” he’d said back then. So firm, so quick with the strap.
I forced myself to look into his blue eyes. “Yes, I do want to see them,” I said. He was still a striking man, not the youthful golden god he’d seemed in those days, yet perhaps more powerful, more intriguing.
My stomach felt weak, but the desire in me was rising and when that happens I feel nothing in my head or stomach.
We walked slowly towards the team. It was four across and four rows in length, all strongly built men, gorgeous men with muscles oiled and gleaming, clearly matched for beauty and size, all of the same impressive height, and even their luxuriant hair was trimmed identically at the back of the neck and combed back out of their faces. Ah, a chariot for a team of four across, and now I understood the word “quadriga.”
Never in all my time in the village, pulling wagons or carts, or even the occasional fancy coach, had I ever seen a team of men of this size or so lavishly ornamented. I was utterly dazzled. I saw gold and scarlet everywhere I looked, and jewels sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.
We’d been lowly beings, the work ponies of the village. These were ponies of a royal equipage. Maybe the pretty girls of the mayor’s small stable had been so turned out, but never us, except in some meager fashion on race days.
Every male stood proud and tall, harnessed in bright gold-and-scarlet decorated leather, with gold blinders at the sides of his eyes, gold lacings covering his arms as they were folded behind his back, and a gleaming gold band around his forehead.
Even the anal plugs were gold with the long thick horse’s-hair tail dyed red, and gold were the boots that ran halfway up the calf of each steed, with red jeweled buttons and loops. And added to that were bits of gold in each mouth, and the gilded reins that ran back to the chariot.
Countless adornments enhanced the harnessing and straps everywhere that I looked, tiny gold bells dripping everywhere, and gold and jeweled buckles and rosettes decorating all connective links, and the straps that ran over the shoulders and down between the legs, anchoring the butt-plug horse tails and binding them to the tight lacings that bound the erect cocks and shining oiled scrotum of each pony. How I remembered the feel of all this, the delicious snugness.