If I was saying something silent it was, “You are my Mistress. You own me. And I will not look away until you tell me to. I will look into what you are and what you do.” And she seemed to hear this and to be fascinated.
She stood back and let me remain long enough to collect my strength. I kissed the little Princess’s neck.
And then very tentatively I went down on my knees and kissed my Mistress’s feet and the end of the strap hanging from her hand.
The little Princess had not been enough for me. My cock was already rising. I could have taken every proffered slave in every tent. And for one desperate moment I was tempted to kiss my Mistress’s shoes again and wriggle my hips to tell her this. But the sheer vulgarity of it was beyond me. Besides, she might only have laughed and whipped me. No, I had to wait upon her will. And it seemed to me that in these two days, I had not failed, truly failed, in anything. I would not fail now either.
She sent me out into the square, the strap caressing me in the usual fashion. And her lovely little hand pointed to the bath stalls.
I glanced up at the Public Turntable, half afraid I might give her some idea by doing so, but unable not to look at it. An olive-skinned Princess I did not know was the victim, her black hair mounded on her head, her long, lusciously full body snapping under the cracking paddle without fetters. She looked splendid, her dark eyes narrowed and wet, her mouth open in wild cries. She seemed to be yielding utterly. The crowd danced and whooped, cheering her on. And before we reached the bath stall I saw her showered with coins as I had been.
While I was being bathed, one of the handsomest Princes I had ever beheld, Prince Dmitri from the castle, was taking his turn on the Public Turntable. And my cheeks stung with shame for him when I saw him bound down at the knees and at the neck, hands laced as the crowd scolded him. He sobbed over his leather gag and bridled under the paddling.
But my Mistress had seen me looking at the turntable and with a stab of panic I turned my eyes down.
And I kept them that way as I was driven home at a march along the back road and into the household.
Now I shall sleep in some dim corner somewhere, I thought, bound and perhaps even gagged. It’s late and my cock is an iron rod between my legs and my Master is probably sleeping.
But I was being coaxed down the hall. I saw the light under his door. And knocking on the door, my Mistress smiled. “Good-bye, Tristan,” she whispered and played with a little lock of my hair before leaving me there.
MISTRESS LOCKLEY’S AFFECTIONS
IT WAS almost dark when Beauty awoke. The sky was still light, though a handful of tiny stars had appeared. And Mistress Lockley, dressed for the evening, no doubt, in red with embroidered puffed sleeves, was sitting on the grass with her skirts in a lovely circle. The wooden paddle was tethered to her apron sash, but it was half buried in the white linen. She snapped her fingers for the awakening slaves to come to her, and as they gathered around her on their knees, sore buttocks back on their heels, she gently fed them bits of fresh peach and apple with her fingers.
“Good girl,” she said stroking the chin of a lovely brown-haired Princess as she put a bit of peeled apple into her eager mouth. And she pinched her nipple gently.
Beauty flushed. But the other slaves were in no way surprised by this sudden affection.
And when Mistress Lockley looked straight at her, Beauty leaned her head forward tentatively for the bit of wet fruit, shivering as the fingers stroked her sore nipples. In a rush of confusing sensation, she remembered every detail of the ordeal in the kitchen. Almost bashfully, she blushed again, glancing shyly at Prince Richard, who was looking at the Mistress eagerly.
Mistress Lockley’s face was calm and pretty, her black hair a deep shadow behind her shoulders. She kissed Prince Richard, their open mouths interlocking, her hand stroking his erect penis and reaching down to cradle his balls. His little story had crept into Beauty’s dreams as she slept on the grass, and Beauty felt a hot stab of jealousy and excitement. Prince Richard had an almost winsome attitude, his green eyes filled with good humor and his long, almost luscious mouth glistening with the moisture of the bit of peach that was pushed slowly into it.
Beauty did not know exactly why her heart was pounding.
In the same manner Mistress Lockley played with all the slaves. She fondled a little blond-haired Princess between the legs until she writhed like the white kitchen cat, and then made her open her mouth to catch the grapes that were dropped into it. Prince Roger she kissed even more lingeringly than she had Prince Richard, tugging at the dark pubic curls around his cock and examining his balls as he blushed as deeply as Beauty.
Then the Mistress sat as if thinking. It seemed to Beauty the slaves in subtle ways tried to keep her attention. The brown-haired Princess actually bent and kissed the tip of Mistress Lockley’s shoe as it peeped from under her ruffled white petticoats.
But one of the kitchen girls was coming with a large flat bowl, which she set on the grass, and with a snap of the fingers, everyone was directed to lap the delicious red wine from it. Beauty had never tasted anything so sweet and good.
A heavy broth followed, with strongly spiced bits of tender meat.
Then the slaves gathered again and Mistress Lockley pointed to Prince Richard and to Beauty and gestured to the Inn door. The others shot them sharp hostile glances. “But what is happening?” Beauty thought. Richard moved on hands and knees as fast as he could, it seemed, but never losing his lithesome manner while doing it. And Beauty followed, feeling awkward in comparison.
Mistress Lockley led the way up the narrow steps behind the chimney and down the corridor past the door of the Captain’s room to another bedroom.
As soon as the door closed, and Mistress Lockley lit the candles, Beauty realized it was a woman’s chamber. The paneled bed was fitted with embroidered linen and dresses hung on hooks on the wall, and there was a large mirror above the fireplace.
Richard kissed Mistress Lockley’s feet and looked up.
“Yes, you may take them off,” she said, and as the Prince unlaced her boots, Mistress Lockley unlaced her own bodice and gave it to Beauty with the order to fold it neatly and put it on the table. At the sight of the loosening blouse, and the mark of the bodice lacings still pressed in the wrinkled linen, Beauty felt a tempest inside herself. Her breasts ached as if they were still being spanked on the kitchen cutting block. On her knees, Beauty obeyed the command, her hands trembling as she folded the fabric.
When she turned back Mistress Lockley had removed her ruffled white blouse altogether. The vision of her breasts was stunning. She untied the wooden paddle from her skirts, and then untied the skirts themselves. The Prince took the paddle and drew the skirts off her, and away from her feet. Then the petticoats came down and Beauty took them, her face beating with a strong blush again, as she glanced at the soft black curly pubic hair and the large breasts with their dark, upturned nipples.
Beauty folded the petticoat and laid it down, and timidly turned to look behind her. Mistress Lockley, naked as a slave, and easily as beautiful, her hair a black veil down her back, beckoned for both her slaves to come to her.
She reached for Beauty’s head and brought it towards her slowly. Beauty’s breath was hoarse and anxious. She was staring at the triangle of hair before her, the dark pink lips barely visible beneath it. She had seen hundreds of naked Princesses in all positions, yet the sight of this naked Mistress dazed her. Her face was moist all over. And of her own will she pressed her mouth to the glistening hair and the peeping lips, shrinking back as if they had been hot coals, her hands to her hot face uncertainly.
Then she put her open mouth on the sex, feeling the tight curls against her mouth, and the soft resilient lips unlike anything, it seemed, she had ever kissed before.
Miss Lockley thrust her hips forward while she lifted Beauty’s hands and guided them to her hips so that Beauty suddenly wrapped her arms around Mistress Lockley. Beauty’s breasts pumped as if
they would burst the nipples, and her own sex convulsed feverishly. She opened her mouth wide and ran her tongue under the thick pooch of red folds, and suddenly forced her tongue between the lips, tasting the musky, salty juices. With a wrenching sigh, she hugged Mistress Lockley tightly. Vaguely she was aware that Richard had risen behind the Mistress and slipped his arms under Mistress Lockley’s arms so that he could support her. His hands were on her breasts, pressing on the nipples.
But Beauty lost herself in what was before her. The hot silk of the hair, the plump wet lips, the moisture oozing onto her tongue, all this stirred in her a frenzy.
And the woman’s soft sigh above, her helpless sigh, ignited some new spark in Beauty. Madly she licked and stabbed with her tongue as if she were starved for the salty delicious flesh. And hooking the round, tough little clitoris on the tip of her tongue, she sucked on it with all the pressure she could exert, the wet hair covering her own mouth and nose, drenching her in the sweet, musky scent, as she sighed even louder than the Mistress. The very littleness of it drove her on; it was unlike a cock, and yet so like a cock, this little nodule that she knew was the wellspring of her Mistress’s rapture, and bent on nothing but that rapture, she licked and sucked and stroked it with her teeth until the Mistress was spreading her legs, tilting her hips, groaning loudly. All the images of the kitchen torture flashed in Beauty’s mind—this was the one who had spanked her breasts—and she fed deeper and deeper, until she was almost biting the mound, slurping with her tongue, burrowing into the sex, and rocking her own hips in time with the movement. At last Mistress Lockley cried out, and her hips froze in the air, as her whole body became rigid.
“No! No more!” The Mistress almost screamed. She clutched Beauty’s head, tearing it loose gently, and she sank back into the Prince’s arms, breathing unevenly.
Beauty fell back on her heels.
She shut her eyes trying not even to hope for satisfaction, trying not to picture the dark, glistening pubis again or to think of the rich taste of it. But her tongue touched the roof of her mouth over and over as if she were still licking Mistress Lockley.
Finally Mistress Lockley stood upright and, turning, wrapped her arms around Richard. She kissed him and churned her hips as she rubbed against him.
It was painful for Beauty to watch, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the two towering figures. Richard’s red hair fell down over his forehead and his muscular arm squeezed the narrow back of the Mistress against him.
But then Mistress Lockley turned and, gathering Beauty by the hand, led her to the bed. “Get up on your knees on the bed and face the wall,” she said, the color dancing in her cheeks exquisitely. “And spread those gorgeous little legs wide apart,” she added. “No one should have to tell you that by now.”
Beauty obeyed at once, crawling to the far side against the wall, her back to the room, as she had been told. The passion in her was so furious she couldn’t quiet her hips. Again, in a flash she saw the tortures of the kitchen, that smiling face and the little white tongue of the spanking belt coming down on her nipple.
“0, wicked love,” she thought, “that has so many unnamed components.”
But Mistress Lockley was lying down on the bed beneath Beauty’s spread legs and looking up at her.
Her arms wound round Beauty’s thighs and pulled them lower, as Beauty straddled her.
Beauty peered down into the Mistress’s eyes as her legs stretched wider and wider apart until her sex was just above Mistress Lockley’s face, and suddenly she feared the red mouth below her as much as she had feared the mouth of the white cat in the kitchen. The eyes, so large and glassy, were like the eyes of the cat.
“It will devour me,” she thought, “it will eat me alive!” But her sex opened in silent ravenous convulsions.
From behind, Richard’s hands caught Beauty, caught her sore breasts just as he had caught Mistress Lockley’s breasts, and at the same time Beauty felt a jolt to the frame of the bed and saw Mistress Lockley stiffen and shut her eyes.
Richard had entered Mistress Lockley below, standing beside the bed between her spread legs, and Beauty shook with the rapid jamming rhythm.
But immediately the hot delicate tongue had licked up at Beauty. It lapped in long slow strokes at her pubic lips and she gasped at the incredible sweetness of the shrill sensation.
She jumped, afraid of the wet mouth even as she craved it. But her clitoris had been caught in Mistress Lockley’s teeth and Mistress Lockley nibbled at it, sucked at it, licked at it with a fierceness that astonished Beauty. The tongue stabbed into her, filling her, and the teeth gnawed at her, and Richard caught up all of Beauty’s weight in his slender, powerful arms, while his thrusts shook the bed in the never-faltering rhythm. “0, she knows how to do it!” Beauty thought. But she lost the thread of her thoughts, her breaths coming long and low, Richard’s gentle hands massaging her hurt breasts, the face beneath her pressed into her vagina, the tongue flushing her, the lips clamping onto her whole nether mouth and drawing on it in an orgy of sucking that sent the orgasm searing through her.
It broke in bright waves, causing her almost to collapse, as the strong driving thrusts of the Prince came faster and faster and Mistress Lockley moaned against Beauty and the Prince gave the same deep guttural cry behind her.
Beauty hung exhausted in his arms.
Released, she fell languidly to the side, and for a long time lay with her limbs nestled beside Mistress Lockley. Richard, too, was tumbled in the bed, and Beauty lay in a half-sleep, hearing the dim sounds from below, the voices in the drinking room, the occasional shouts from the square, the sounds of night descending on the village.
When she opened her eyes, Richard was on his knees and just tying the Mistress’s apron strings. The Mistress brushed her long dark hair.
She snapped her fingers for Beauty to rise, and Beauty tumbled out of the bed and quickly straightened the coverlet.
She turned and looked up at the Mistress. Richard was already kneeling before the snow-white apron. And Beauty took her place at his side, and the Mistress smiled down at them.
She studied both her slaves. Then she reached down and clasped Beauty’s sex. She kept her warm hand there until Beauty’s pubic lips enlarged ever so slightly, and the shrill throb commenced again. With the other hand the Mistress wakened the Prince’s cock, pinching the tip, bat-ting gently, playfully at the balls, and whispering, “Come now, young man, no time for resting.”
He gave a faint moan, but the cock was obedient. The warm fingers tested the moisture between Beauty’s engorging lips. “See, this good little girl is already prepared for service.”
She lifted their chins now and smiled down at both of them. Beauty felt dizzy and weak and totally without resistance. She stared up into the lovely dark eyes meekly.
“And in the morning, she will paddle me on the counter,” Beauty thought, “as she does the others.” And her weakness only increased. Richard’s brief story melted over her with lurid vividness: the Punishment Shop, the Public Turntable. The village blazed in her mind and she felt stricken and bedazzled and unable to think whether she was good or bad or should be either.
“Stand up,” came the soft low voice, “and march fast. It’s already dark and you haven’t been bathed yet.”
Beauty rose and so did the Prince, and she gave a little cry when she felt the wooden paddle smack her buttocks. “Knees high,” came the gentle whisper. “Young man”—another smack—“did you hear me?”
They were paddled fiercely down the steps, Beauty shaken and red-faced and shivering with the passion that was kindled anew, and driven into the yard, there to be bathed in the wooden tubs by the kitchen girls, who went to work with their rough brushes and towels.
SECRETS IN THE INNER CHAMBER
Tristan:
THE MASTER’S bedroom was immaculate as I entered, just as it had been the night before, the green satin-lined bed gleaming in the candlelight. And when I saw my Master seated at the de
sk, pen in hand, I went as quietly as I could across the polished oak floor and kissed his boots, not in the old decorous way, but with total affection.
I feared he would stop me as I licked at his ankles and even dared to kiss the smooth leather over his calves, but he did not. He did not even seem to notice me.My cock was hurting. The little Princess in the Public Tent had been only the first course. And the mere act of entering this room redoubled the hunger. But as before, I didn’t dare to beg with any vulgar, pleading movement. I would not have displeased the Master for anything.
I stole a glance upwards at his intent face, his white hair shimmering around it. And he turned, looking down at me, and timidly I looked away, though it took all my control to do it.
“You’re well bathed?” he asked.
I nodded and kissed his boots again.
“Get on the bed,” he said, “and sit to the foot of the bed in the corner nearest the wall.”
I was in ecstasy. I tried to compose myself, the satin coverlet like ice soothing my welts. The two days of constant licking caused even the flinching of a muscle to have endless reverberations.
My Master was getting undressed, I knew, but I didn’t dare to look. Then he snuffed all the candles except those by the head of the bed, where an open wine bottle sat beside two jewel-encrusted goblets.
He must be the richest man in the village, I thought, to have so much light. And I felt a slave’s pure pride in having a rich Master. Any thought of the Prince I had been in my own land was simply gone from me.
He climbed into bed and sat against the pillows, with one knee up, his left arm resting on it. He reached over and filled the two goblets and then he extended one to me.
I was baffled. Did he mean for me to drink from it as he would? I took it at once and sat back holding it. I was looking unabashedly at him now; he had not commanded me not to. And his lean hard chest with its curling bits of white hair around the nipples and down the center to his belly caught the light of the candle beautifully. His cock was not as hard as mine yet. I wanted to remedy that.