The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (15 page)

“This is all you are to think about, this is all you are to be,” he said. “In some former life, you were many things, a lovely face, a lovely voice, an obedient daughter. You’ve shed that skin as if it were a cloak of dreams, and now you think of these portions of yourself only.” He stroked her pubic lips, he widened her vagina. And then he squeezed her breasts almost cruelly. “This is you now, all of you. And your lovely face, only because it is the lovely face of a naked and helpless slave.”

Then, as if he could not resist, he embraced her and carried her to the bed. “In a little while, I must take wine with the Court, and you will serve me there, demonstrating your obedience to everyone. But that can wait ...”

“O, yes, my Prince, if it pleases you,” she breathed the words so low he might not have heard. She was lying on the jeweled coverlet, and though her buttocks and legs were not as raw as they had been the night before, she felt the painful prickling of the jewels.

The Prince knelt over her straddling her, and then opened her mouth with his fingers, and showing her his hard penis, drove it into her mouth with a quick downward motion. She sucked on it, drew on it. Yet all she need do was lie back helpless for he made the strong thrusts himself, into her, and she closed her eyes, smelling the delicious fragrance of his pubic hair, and tasting the saltiness of his skin, the penis nudging the back of her throat again and again as it all but bruised her lips.

She was moaning in time with its movements, and when suddenly he drew himself out, she gasped, her hands up to embrace him. But he had lain down on her full length, parted her legs, and pulled away the brass bells. Her pubic lips ached as he did so.

He drove into her. She felt herself explode with pleasure, her back arched so rigidly that she lifted his weight with her. Her body was drenched in pleasure. She thrust with her hips in almost a snapping motion, and when he came at last, he gave her cruel thrusts until he lay exhausted.

It seemed she slept; she dreamed. And then she heard him say to someone standing there:

“Take her away, wash her, adorn her. And send her to me in the upstairs parlor.”

B
EAUTY COULD not believe her bad luck when, entering the upstairs parlor, she saw the lovely Lady Juliana was playing chess with the Prince, and that other beautiful Ladies were seated about at various chessboards, and that there were several Lords as well, including an old man with white hair that flowed down over his shoulders.

Why did it have to be this Lady Juliana, so full of airy gestures and sunshine, her thick braids done tonight with crimson ribbon, her breasts beautifully molded by her velvet gown, and her laughter already filling the air as the Prince whispered to her some little witticism.

Beauty did not know what she felt. Was it jealousy? Was it merely the usual humiliation?

And Beauty had been adorned so cruelly by Leon, it was better to be naked.

 

 

 

First Leon had scrubbed away all the Prince’s fluids, then he had braided only a thick lock of Beauty’s hair on either side, pinning back these braids so that most of her hair still hung free. Then he had put little jeweled clamps on her nipples, but these were connected to each other by two strands of fine gold chain like a necklace.

The clamps hurt and the chains moved as the bells had with Beauty’s every breath. But she had been quite horrified to discover this was not all.

Leon’s quick, graceful fingers had probed her navel, then smoothed into it a paste in which he set a glittering brooch, a fine jewel surrounded by pearls. Beauty had gasped. She felt as if someone were pressing her there, trying to enter her, as if her navel had become a vagina. And the feeling continued. She could feel it now.

Then her ears must be hung with heavy jewels on tight gold clamps that stroked her neck when she moved, and her pubic lips of course could not be spared but must wear the same adornment. There were snake bracelets for her upper arms, and jeweled cuffs for her wrists, the effect to make her feel all the more exposed. Adorned and yet exposed. It was mystifying. About her neck finally a choker of jewels, and then on her left cheek a little jewel in paste like a beauty mark.

It caused her such annoyance. She wanted to wipe it away and could imagine it glittering. It seemed she could even see it out of the corner of her eye. But then she had been quite frightened when Leon tipped her head back, and put a delicate little gold ring on the side of her nostril. Its prongs pierced her though not deeply, only enough to hold it in place, but she almost cried because she wanted so to wipe it away like the jewel, indeed, to pull all these adornments loose, though Leon was complimenting her.

“Ah, when they give me something truly beautiful to work with, then I can show my skill,” he sighed. He gave her hair a brisk brushing and then said she was ready.

 

 

 

Now she entered this vast shadowy parlor on her hands and knees and hurried to the Prince’s side, kissing his boots immediately.

The Prince did not look up from his chessboard, and to Beauty’s scalding shame, it was the Lady Juliana who greeted her:

“Ah, but if it isn’t the darling one, and how lovely she looks. Kneel up, my precious,” she said in that gay, carefree voice, tossing one of her braids back over her shoulder. She laid her hand on Beauty’s throat, examining the jewel necklace. It seemed her fingers caused a tingling through Beauty’s flesh, but she did not even try to steal a glance at the young woman’s face.

“Why am I not sitting there as she is sitting, exquisitely dressed and free and proud,” Beauty thought. “What has become of me, that I must kneel here before her and be handled as something less than human? I am a Princess!” And then she thought of all the other Princes and Princesses and felt foolish. “Do they think these thoughts?” This woman, more than any other, tormented her.

But Lady Juliana was not satisfied. “Stand up my dear so that I can have a look at you and don’t make me tell you to put your hands behind your neck and spread your legs.”

Beauty heard laughter from behind her and someone remarking to someone else that yes, the Prince’s slave was well named. And realizing suddenly that there were no other slaves in this room, Beauty felt all the more bereft.

She shut her eyes as she had before when Lady Juliana had inspected her. And she felt the Lady’s hands on her thighs and then pinching her buttocks. “O, why can she not leave me alone, doesn’t she know what I suffer?” Beauty thought, and through her narrowed eyelids she looked down to see the Lady beaming at her.

“And what does her Highness think of her?” Lady Juliana asked with genuine curiosity, glancing at the Prince who was still deep in contemplation.

“She does not approve,” the Prince murmured. “She accuses me of passion.”

Beauty tried to remain composed, standing as she was in attendance. She heard laughter and conversation about her. She heard the rumbling of the old man’s voice, and a woman say that the Prince’s girl should serve the wine, should she not, so they might all see her?

“And haven’t they seen me,” Beauty thought. Could it be worse than the Great Hall, and what if she spilled the wine?

“Beauty, go to the sideboard and take the pitcher. Serve carefully and well, and come back to me,” said the Prince, again without looking at her.

Beauty moved through the shadows to find the gold pitcher on the sideboard. She could smell the fruity aroma of the wine, and she turned, feeling awkward and graceless, and approached the first table. “A common serving girl, slave,” she thought, more keenly than she had thought anything when she had been displayed.

With trembling hands she poured the wine slowly into goblet after goblet, and through her glazed vision saw smiles and heard whispered compliments. Now and then some haughty man or woman was quite indifferent to her. She was shocked once by a pinch on her rear and gasped to a general round of laughter.

As she bent over the tables, she felt the nakedness of her belly, saw the chains shimmering as they connected her pinched nipples. Each common gesture made her feel more hopeless.

She backed away from the last table, from a man who sat back with his elbow on the arm of his chair and smiled at her.

And then she filled Lady Juliana’s goblet and saw those bright round eyes looking up at her.

“Lovely, lovely, O, I do wish you weren’t so possessive of her,” said Lady Juliana. “Put the pitcher down, my dear, and come here to me.”

Beauty obeyed and returned to the Lady’s chair. When she saw the Lady snap her fingers and point to the floor, Beauty blushed. She fell to her knees, and then in a strange impulsive moment, she kissed the Lady’s slippers.

It seemed to happen very slowly. She found herself bending down towards the silver slippers and then she touched them with her lips fervently.

“Ah, what a darling,” said the Lady Juliana. “Give me only an hour with her.”

And Beauty felt the woman’s hand on the back of her neck, caressing her, stroking her, and then gathering her hair back and smoothing it tenderly. Tears came to Beauty’s eyes. “I am nothing,” she thought. And there was that awareness again of some change in her, some quiet despair, except that her heart was racing.

“I would not even have her here,” said the Prince under his breath, “save my mother commands it, that she be treated like any other slave, that she be enjoyed by others. Given my own will, I would chain her to my bedpost. I would beat her. I would watch every tear, every change of color.”

Beauty felt her heart in her throat like a little fist knocking there faster and faster. “I would make her my wife, even ...”

“Ah, but you are in the grip of madness.”

“Yes,” said the Prince, “she has done that to me. Are others blind?”

“No, of course not,” said Juliana, “she is lovely. But each seeks his own love, you know that. Would you have everyone else equally mad for her?”

“No,” he shook his head. And without looking away from the chessboard, he reached out to caress Beauty’s breasts, lifting them, squeezing them, so that she winced.

But suddenly everyone was rising.

Chairs slid back on the stones; the assemblage stood bowing.

Beauty turned.

The Queen had come into the room. Beauty glimpsed her long green gown, the girdle of gold embroidery about her hips and that sheer white veil that hung down her back to her hem, only thinly concealing her black hair.

Beauty went down low on her hands and knees not knowing what she must do. Her forehead touched the stones and she held her breath. Yet she could see the Queen approaching. The Queen stood right before her.

“Be seated everyone,” said the Queen, “and return to your games. But you, my son, how do you fare with this new passion?”

The Prince was obviously at a loss for an answer.

“Pick her up, display her,” said the Queen.

And Beauty realized she was being lifted by her wrists. She rose up quickly, her arms being twisted behind her, her back forced into a painful arc, and suddenly she was standing on her toes moaning. The clamps seemed to tear at her nipples, the jewels between her legs to pull her open. Behind the jewel in her navel, she felt her heart beat, and she felt it too in the lobes of her clamped ears and in her eyelids.

She was looking at the floor but all she could see was that shimmering chain and some great indistinct form that was the Queen standing over her.

Then suddenly the Queen’s hand struck Beauty’s breasts so hard that Beauty cried out, and at once felt the Page’s fingers over her mouth tightly.

She moaned in panic. She felt her tears come, the Page’s fingers biting into her cheek. And without meaning to, she struggled.

“There, there, Beauty,” whispered the Prince. “You do not show my mother your best disposition.”

Beauty tried to calm herself, but the Page forced her forward more harshly.

“She is not so bad,” said the Queen, and Beauty could feel the iron in her voice, her cruelty. No matter what the Prince did to her, she did not sense in him such pure cruelty.

“She is only afraid of me,” said the Queen. “And I wish you were more afraid of me, my son.”

“Mother, be gentle with her, please, I beg you,” said the Prince. “Allow me to keep her in my chambers, and to train her myself. Don’t send her back to the Hall of Slaves tonight.”

Beauty tried to smother her own crying. It seemed the Page’s hand over her mouth only made it more difficult for her.

“My son, when she has proven her humility, we shall see,” said the Queen. “Tomorrow night, the Bridle Path.”

“O, but Mother, it is so soon.”

“Such rigor will be good for her; it will make her malleable,” said the Queen.

And turning with a broad gesture that loosened the train of her gown and made it fall behind her, the Queen left the parlor.

The Page released Beauty.

. And the Prince at once took her wrists in his hand and urged her out into the corridor, Lady Juliana coming beside him.

The Queen was gone, and the Prince moved Beauty angrily along ahead of him, Beauty’s sobs echoing under the dark vaulted ceilings.

“O, dear, poor exquisite dear,” said the Lady Juliana.

At last they reached the Prince’s apartments, and to Beauty’s misery, the Lady Juliana came in as if this were nothing to enter the Prince’s chamber.

“Have they no propriety and restraint among themselves,” Beauty thought, “or are they degraded with each other as we are degraded?”

But she soon realized it was only the Prince’s study, and Pages were about. And the door remained open.

The Lady Juliana took Beauty now from the Prince, her soft cool hands urging Beauty down on her knees before her chair.

Then from somewhere in the folds of her gown, the Lady produced a long narrow silver-handled brush and she commenced to brush Beauty’s hair lovingly. “This will soothe you, my poor precious one,” she said. “Don’t be so frightened.”