Storiesonline.net ------- Kate & Friends by Morgan Copyright© 2002 by Morgan ------- Description: This is a story set in the 13th century. The first section represents a collaboration with a young woman from Texas and was done over 10 years ago. It is basically a romance with more than a few anachronistic elements. But, as I note in the author's preface, it beats having to research 13th-century life. Codes: MF hist rom cons bi D/S ------- ------- © By Morgan, 1992, 2002. All rights reserved. Author's Note As the reader can see from the copyright dates, this book has been in the works for some time. It began as a collaboration between the author and a lovely young woman in Texas named Katherine. The collaboration extends through most of Book I — Kate's Book. It is set in Europe circa the 13th Century... or thereabouts. But as you will see there are a few somewhat discordant elements of living. But what the hell... it beats having to research 13th century life. Finally — and obviously — this book has no connection with any other books I've written. ------- Prologue The day I first encountered you, Katherine, had been a miserable one for me. Rather stupidly I had gone down to the weekly slave auction incognito. Having forgotten that it was very close to tax time, I found the auction very busy. Had I been smart, I would have immediately left and returned to the castle, but as you well know brains are not my strong suit. I stayed. A substantial number of girls were sold into slavery that day. I saw these lovely young women, seventeen and eighteen years old, with their parents. Typically the mothers would help their daughters undress, then kiss them goodbye. Naked and trembling, typically with tears streaming down their cheeks, the girls would stumble blindly up the steps. One girl in particular impressed me. I guess she was about seventeen, blonde, blue eyed with a lusciously nubile figure. Although tears were streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks and she had a nearly-irresistible urge to cover her loins, she climbed the stairs, presented herself to the auctioneer, signed the papers consenting to her permanent slavery, then moved to where one of his assistants was waiting. Then the girl voluntarily took her position in one of the open spreadeagle racks and waited while her wrists and ankles were secured. When the prospective bidders came by I could hear this lovely girl asking them to fondle her cunt, squeeze her tits, and feel the muscles in her arms and legs. This young woman was trying her best to ensure that her parents received the best price possible for her as she entered into a lifetime of slavery. When a small patrol of my troops approached, I was genuinely shocked. There was an animal-like growl from the crowd. Fortunately the officer commanding the patrol had the good sense to withdraw his men before the crowd was provoked further. Asking a bystander why there was such a reaction, I was shocked at his response. My fiscal advisors — all trained at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, I must add — had assured me that the only possible way to run a government was with high taxes. "After all," they pointed out, "if you do not take their money, Sire, they will only waste it on food, clothing, and other such fripperies... You, Sire, can use it for important matters of state — another addition to your castle, for example." Given the obvious good sense in their position, I could not understand why the citizenry did not share my enthusiasm. However, I had also just given orders to expand the size of the armed forces yet again to absorb even more young men. Most were doomed to remain single due to the lack of marriageable young women. That day, Katherine, I learned also that the percentage of young women being sold into slavery had reached an estimated 70 percent. Thus, I was feeling despondent and essentially alone as I presided over the evening meal in the Great Hall. Having just finished eating, I was about to retire to my apartment; the evening's planned entertainment held no attraction for me. After a while jugglers and acrobats all seem pretty much alike. However, I noticed my chamberlain watching me carefully. When I moved in my seat in a fashion suggesting I was preparing to leave, he motioned to someone who was waiting out of my sight. A moment later, Katherine, you appear. I was dazzled! I see an apparition with magnificent auburn hair dressed in what appeared to be an ivory gown. Moments later, of course, I found that it was a very long cloak only secured at your throat. Your hands were behind you — secured together I soon learned — forcing your luscious tits up and out. After being brought around the table, you were positioned beside me. My chamberlain said softly, "Sire, we have acquired a new slave for your use. Would it be convenient for you to inspect her now?" When I agreed, he nodded and your guard first released your wrists and then untied the cord around your neck. With a flourish the cloak was removed revealing the perfection of your body. I remember vividly how proudly your tits stood with their nipples already pebble-hard. "On your knees, Slave!" you were ordered. "You have been instructed in the proper submissive posture. Take it!" So saying the guard took your wrists and first secured them together and then to the back of a leather collar that previously had been hidden by the high neck of the cloak. Responding to downward pressure on your shoulder and rapidly whispered instructions you went down on your knees, then spread your knees wide apart opening your luscious cunt to my view. Only then did I see that you had only a small dense patch of auburn pubic hair immediately above your slit. The rest of your pubes were bare. Katherine, you were utterly exquisite. ------- For my part, Master, I was in a state of shock. So much had happened in such a short time. Just a few hours earlier I was an animal living in a cage. Now, as I was led into the Great Hall, I didn't know what to do or to think. As I moved sightlessly I thought of the marvelous little girl, a blue-eyed blonde, now wearing a bandage on her forehead. I was being prepared for my presentation to you, Master, and being given dozens of instructions, none of which I heard, let alone had any intention of following. While this was happening, though, this lovely naked girl sat on her haunches trying to do something — anything — for me. Her bandage was courtesy of me, but notwithstanding, at every opportunity she melted her marvelously soft lips to mine, giving me the most innocent, most loving kisses I have ever experienced in my life. At the same time I just luxuriated in the treatment as seemingly countless lovely women focused their every attention on me. Oddly enough, Master, it evoked memories from somewhere in my past. Strangely, I found I knew automatically how to hold myself to permit them most easily to work on me. I suppose it was because I was in some form of LaLa Land that I didn't even notice when my thighs were spread wide and my pubic patch was — shall we say? — drastically reduced in size. When they finished, I was stood in front of a full-length mirror. I blinked in astonishment. Master, it had been so long since I had seen my body. In spite of the abuse I had suffered, it was apparently unmarked, although there were still fading scars visible if one knew where to look. Holding myself up straight, I was astonished when one of the women — the senior handmaiden, I suppose — amazed me. She lifted my tit, put a pencil under it, then released it. When the pencil hit the floor, for some reason she was pleased. Then she carefully fastened a marvelously soft leather collar around my neck and put leather bracelets on my wrists. In light of what I had so-recently lived through, the soft leather reminded me of fine jewelry. Then to my shock she stood in front of me on tiptoe and kissed me full on the lips. "Our master will adore you! Please make him happy." At the time I had no clue what she could be talking about. A beautiful ivory-colored cloak was put over my shoulders and I was led to a small table. There I found a lovely meal set out for me, and the same lovely little girl sitting there waiting to feed me. I was about to object, but my hands and arms were covered by the cloak. More importantly because the little girl seemed so delighted at the opportunity to serve me, I did not have the heart to object. Carefully, she cut the meat into small pieces and fed them to me. Never have I had such an experience, Master. When I finished eating, believe it or not, she brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth with mouthwash. After clearing off my little table, she sat on it and just rested her head against my shoulder. When she wasn't nuzzling my neck, she was giving me soft, loving kisses. We seemed to be awaiting something. I noticed a guard appear and just stand poised, waiting. He seemed to be watching someone or something out of my sight. Then he nodded to someone, came over, took me by the arm and raised me to my feet. I was being hustled. And being the person I am, I resented it but stumbled along and found myself in the Great Hall. The guard was moving so quickly, rather than walking I was almost being carried along. Clearly he did not want to keep you waiting. Suddenly he stopped and went down on one knee. Looking up, Master, I saw you and my heart rolled over. Wearing that royal-blue tunic that set off the blue of your eyes, I was overcome. Being the woman I am, I could not possibly admit it. But now, my darling, I do. I think I loved you from that first instant I saw you. As a result I was happy when my cloak was removed. I stood up proudly and waited. Immediately I derived benefit from having seen myself in the mirror. I was very proud of my naked body and proudly presented myself to you. Then the guard ordered me to take "the position", whatever in hell that was. Somehow he got me into what passed as a submissive posture and then withdrew. ------- Never will I forget the first time I looked into your gorgeous eyes, Katherine. Of course a good submissive should have her eyes downcast at all times, but, my darling, you have never been a very good submissive. Admittedly you can play the rôle well when it suits you. But at any rate, I remember ordering you to do something and being summarily refused. I was taken completely aback and had no idea what to do. Your wrists were still secured to the collar at the back of your neck so I was well protected — or so I thought. Your appearance at that moment both cheered me up and took my mind off my previously depressing thoughts. Now I had something else on which to focus my attention: you. "On your feet, Slave!" I commanded. Never will I forget your reaction: You looked at me speculatively for a long moment, then slowly rose to your feet with a graceful, almost fluid motion. Standing there naked before me, darling, was the end of the line. I was finished! But, of course, good order and discipline must be preserved and you had to be punished. I ordered you to lay down over my knee and again was refused. This was too much! I grabbed you, threw you over my right leg and administered one hard spank. As soon as my hand made contact with your bun — even though it was a spank — there was an incredibly sensual feeling. Not knowing if I was feeling or imagining, I very lightly stroked your buns. The sensation of your satin-smooth skin on my fingertips was unreal. Moreover, with you lying across my lap the fragrance of your body floated up to my nostrils and almost caused me to pass out. Woman, you are unbelievable! At any rate I lightened my touch to that of a feather and enjoyed observing your reaction. In no time I could see you trying to raise your ass to better feel my hand in contact with your flesh. As I moved my hand like a feather over your bottom I could hear moans coming from your body despite your obvious efforts to suppress them. As your body relaxed and you enjoyed the erotic sensation I was creating, I smacked you again. We kept on in this fashion for what seemed like hours. Finally, I heard you say in a pitiable tone, "Please stop, Master. Oh please! If you must spank me, just do it! But no more caresses! Please!" Although it sounded like an odd request, I was convinced you were serious. And being the kind of person I am — or was — I continued, with even longer intervals of stroking between spanks. Do I receive thanks for the tremendous pleasure I am creating for you? Hell, no! Instead, I feel a sharp pain in my thigh. Looking down, I see that you bit me, bitch! Since by now your asscheeks were brilliant red anyway, it was time to really get even. Unceremoniously, I dumped you off my lap onto the stone floor. Before you could move, I had snapped the end of a leash onto your collar and ordered you to your hands and knees. When you refused — as I expected you to — I used a dog whip until you decided — following the theory of Benthamite Utilitarianism — the greatest good for the greatest number — that you would be better served, in the short run, at least, by crawling at my direction. ------- Well, beloved master, this was the first of what have become many instances in which my body betrayed my mind. I wanted to fight you but my body just wanted you. Really, it was quite funny as I padded along on my hands and knees crawling around the stone-paved corridors. But was it really necessary to direct me with strokes from the dog whip? Would not a tug in the appropriate direction on the leash have served the same purpose? Or — heaven forfend! — spoken instructions? But no matter. Soon I found myself on my hands and knees at your apartment door. Opening it, Master, only a single stroke of the dog whip on what was by then, I am certain, a crimson ass, was enough to get me moving. Once inside the door, I realized I had entered a different world. From a stone surface now I was crawling on the finest, most lush wool plush carpet I had ever encountered. It felt so wonderful that my first thought was just to drop flat and wriggle my bare body on it. You had different plans, however. Continuing to crawl, I went through several rooms finally arriving at your bedroom. There you lifted the leash and again cracked me across the ass. Master, honestly you were overdoing it, bigtime! Taking the hint, however, I jumped up on your magnificent king-size (what else?) bed. As in a fine hotel, all preparations had been made for your retiring. In fact, I noticed, there was even a mint on each of the two pillows! The feel of the crisp percale on my bare skin was utterly heavenly. There was something else, though. Although I could never remember ever being in a bed, there was some sensual memory rekindled deep inside me by the feeling of the material. While still on my hands and knees, I feel you move in behind me. Automatically I spread my legs wide to give you the room you need. Why am I doing this? I wonder. I can't stand this man! Even as the thought ran through my brain, my heart said, Katherine, you're full of shit! Just then I feel your cock begin to probe at my now-bare slit. Only now do I realize my pussy is flooded with its juices. But how can this be? I wonder, demonstrating how incredibly foolish one's brain can be sometime. Feeling you in position, for some strange reason I moved backward suddenly impaling myself on your iron-hard cock. Since simultaneously you had moved forward, I could feel your body bounce off my still-crimson buns. You had fully penetrated my body in a single thrust. But why did I not scream in pain? Suddenly I realized the pain in my buns in some strange way was adding to my sexual enjoyment. Good heavens! I wondered. Am I now a masochist? The fucking you administered, Master, was the very best of my entire life. There was an oddity, though. You tried to act like you were hurting me, but you were not. Suddenly I realized that you are incapable of hurting me. Truly you are! Coming to that realization I let out a wonderfully warm moan from deep inside my body. The sound must have inspired you, Sire, because you redoubled your efforts. As you moved slowly in and out of my sopping wet pussy, I rotated my hips to multiply the sensation for both of us. Where did that idea come from? I wondered. Dropping my arm to the bed, I rested my head on it, getting my ass up higher and opening my cunt to the deepest possible penetration. At the same time I moved my other hand and began to play with my clitoris. Master, I cannot tell you how marvelous it felt. You took me up mountains to reach my orgasmic release. The first took awhile. The second was much faster. The third, faster yet. In what seemed like no time at all I was in a virtually continuous motion. Vaguely, I could hear a voice that sounded quite similar to my own screaming, "Fuck-me-fuck-me-fuck-me..." I wonder who that could have been? When you could hold back no longer, Master, you released what seemed like gallons of cum in successive spurting discharges that flooded my cunt. That was all I could take. Everything went black. Recovering consciousness, I found my head resting on your shoulder while your hand cupped my tit. "Before, going to sleep, Slave, I will even share an after-fuck cigarette with you." (A cigarette? A very interesting invention when it comes along in 500 years or so... ) The few minutes that followed were the happiest I could remember to that point. All I could think to say — my thoughts were, to say the very least, confused — was, "Thank you, Master." When the cigarette was finished you lifted me out of that wonderfully warm snugly bed and secured me to the headboard. First you fastened my wrists together with the leather cuffs, then fastened them to the bed. Although you did have the courtesy to cover me with a blanket — a luscious cashmere one, at that, I think — it was not what I had in mind. With my back propped up against the side of the headboard I began to screech as loudly and as off-key as I possibly could. Some might call it an effort at singing, but, beloved master, we both know better. Actually, my victory was easy. Much too easy. When you unfastened me, I missed it, but reflecting on the scene now, I realize you were laughing! Deposited back on the bed I realized that you had tucked everything in again and restored the bed to its pre-fuck condition, or as close as you could get without remaking the bed. Again I luxuriated against the percale. When you joined me in bed, it took no effort on your part for me to move as close to your body as I could get just as you turned out the lights. In an instant I was sound asleep with my arm over your body. ------- Book I: Kate's Book ------- Chapter 1 My Darling Slave, First, you are probably wondering why you are again hobbled with your wrists secured behind your back. Luscious slave, there was little choice. I just learned how you came into my possession, and, since I promised there would be no secrets between us, I must tell you. On the other hand, I have also learned that you do have a wonderfully violent temper. You could consider your bonds to be an element of self-defense on my part. At any rate, my love, a short time ago my chamberlain told me the whole story. Although much of it took place outside of your hearing, from a few comments you made last night I don't believe it will not come as a total surprise. Your former master turned you over to me in payment for a couple of dog licenses. He also wanted credit on the licenses for a couple of spayed cats but after looking at your filthy body my chamberlain refused. His refusal benefitted both of us, I believe. You see, my darling, you were brought to the castle in chains. Your wrists were cuffed behind you, your ankles were hobbled, and there was a long chain down your back connecting your iron collar, the wrist shackles, and your hobbles. (At any rate you shouldn't be upset. Clearly being restrained as you are now is not a new experience for you.) But back to the story. You were, in a word, filthy. In spite of being held in chains you were cursing and spitting at anybody or anything within your range which, I learned, is considerable. My chamberlain asked about you: why was your master essentially giving you away? The answer, it seems came back to his dogs. They are pure-bred Irish setters, and allegedly quite valuable. Even though you were kept chained and, we learned, kept in the dog kennel where the head room was only three feet, you kept off the dogs and ate most of their food. As a result his valuable dogs were wasting away. He determined that he couldn't keep both you and the dogs, and he loved his dogs. Although being kept in the kennels was certainly degrading in the extreme, even that made no apparent impression on you, and certainly did nothing to curb what we learned was your often-violent behavior. Because my chamberlain would not provide the additional credit — for spayed cats, yet! — your former owner stripped off the rags you were wearing leaving you standing naked in your chains. It is this event that changed the outcome. You see, my chamberlain was planning to use you as a field slave, or a scullery maid at the very best, when your rags were stripped away. Only then did he see the pale perfection of your skin and the auburn beauty of your pubic patch. Until then your hair, utterly filthy with dirt, appeared to be just dark and grungy: totally nondescript. It was at this point that he did something that will earn him a large bonus from me: Instead of sending you out to the fields, he sent for my senior handmaiden and gave her instructions. She led you off to the baths where she and others began to attend you. But being the fierce woman you are, after taking off the iron collar and the hobbles, when she freed your hand from one of the cuffs you swung hard. A small girl did not duck quickly enough and the end of your heavy chain caught her in the head. She dropped to the floor like a stone. While the other women were screaming, you dropped down on your knees and hugged the little girl closely to your breast. Using your lips you proceeded to suck at the cut on her head while ordering another woman to obtain butterfly bandages. When they were produced, you used them to close the cut in the girl's head and then you gently bandaged it. On your knees with the small girl's head on your shoulder, you so-tenderly stroked her body. When she regained consciousness, you turned her head and kissed her gently. The injured girl just wriggled her body and snuggled closer to you. Then she raised her lips for another of your kisses. Later she told the others that no one has the lightness of touch or the ability to convey love that you do. This was remarkable for another reason. I learned that she had never spoken a word to anyone while awake, although she did talk extensively in her sleep. Her name is Julia and this morning, on her knees, she begged me to allow her to serve as your handmaiden. I told her that your position in the castle is very tenuous; you might yet end up as a field slave. Julia, although just five feet tall, ninety-five pounds soaking wet, and barely thirteen years old, said she, too, would serve as a field slave to be with you. "I only want to serve my golden-haired goddess!" she pleaded. (What were in the kisses you gave her and in the touch of your fingers on her tiny body?) I told her that you might be hung on the wall of my bedroom, hanging by your hair. Tears came to her eyes as she knelt on the floor. She begged to be allowed to substitute for you and to accept the punishment in your place. When I pointed out that she was much shorter and her hair not as long, she just shook her head. "But Julia," I protested, "your toes won't even reach the floor! You will be hanging by your hair all night long." She just shook her had and insisted it was for her golden-haired goddess who was utterly perfect! I am permitting her to be your handmaiden, by the way. Of course, when they bathed you and washed your hair, your physical magnificence became apparent. My senior handmaiden said that never have she and her colleagues enjoyed anything more than working on your hair and seeing it revealed in its red-tinged golden beauty. Julia, incidentally, just knelt before you cleaning and kissing and loving you in any way she possibly could, while the more experienced women worked on you. And that is why you were so marvelously fragrant when you were brought to me last night. You may remember falling asleep in my arms with my large hand cupping your luscious tit. But when I awakened this morning I found that you had rolled over. Your right arm was over my chest and your face was nuzzled into my shoulder. Since it had gotten quite cold last night, the warmth of your body felt wonderful against mine. After I awakened I looked down and saw your incredibly full eyelashes looking like dark half-moons against your cheeks. When I squeezed your shoulder the least bit, your eyelids popped open and I found myself looking into your magnificent green eyes. Slave, you are unreal! An instant earlier you were sound asleep. Now your eyes are clear, focused on me, and filled with love! Pulling your head down, I kissed your sweet fresh lips and probed your warm mouth with my tongue. Finding yours, I felt an instantaneous jolt of pure electricity. To my surprise you pulled back and asked, "Aren't you going to give me a good-morning fuck? I'm very warm and wet, Master." "But doesn't your ass hurt?" I asked. "A trivial matter," you replied. Then, with the most lascivious grin I have ever seen, you added, "Master, if I am on my back and if you permit me to lock my ankles around your neck, it will keep my poor bruised buns off the bed..." Rolling you off my body, I noticed that the instant you were on your back your legs spread wide opening your luscious pussy to my gaze. Of course — you bitch! — you had caused me to become hard as a rock! My circumcised cock, now throbbing with excitement and nearly nine inches long and almost three inches across at the head, moved toward your luscious pussy. I was delighted to see that already you were leaking fluids onto the bed... Moving between your thighs I eased my cock into your marvelously wet sheath... As I knelt between your legs I felt a sharp pain in my thigh. Looking down I saw for the first time a set of teeth marks on my leg. With my cock penetrating your cunt only an inch or so, I suddenly stopped and froze. I could scarcely control my amusement at what followed. You were lying on the bed with your eyes closed and the most beautifully salacious little smile on your lips as you received my cock. Finally realizing something was wrong, your eyes popped open. "What's wrong, my master?" you asked with the desire audible in your voice. "Why did you stop?" "When did you become a cannibal?" I demanded, moving my leg so you could see the teeth marks. I will give you this much credit: You visibly winced when you saw what you had done and murmured, "Ouch!" Then looking up at me you unleashed the most adorable little grin and asked, "May I kiss it and make it better? If I do, Master, will you please continue with my good-morning fuck? Please?" At that instant you looked so cute and so beautiful... Yes, I know! A beautiful woman can't be cute. But you can be, and you are! After moving my leg again, you wriggled around and managed to kiss the spot on my thigh. Remarkably, it really did feel better. The next instant I went back to what was quickly becoming my favorite occupation: fucking my newest slave! As you had promised, moments after I started to move in your wetness, with the grace of a ballet dancer, you moved your legs wide apart and swung them up so your ankles were linked behind my neck. As you had said it would, the position got your badly-bruised ass up off the bed and simultaneously permitted me to maximize the depth of my penetration. Each time I reached fullest penetration you gasped — in pain or in joy; I'm not sure which — as my sac swung and banged against your ass. Reflecting on it as I am now, I guess you must have liked it because when my cock penetrated your wetness to the limit, you would buck your pelvis up to get the very last millimeter of my length inside you. As I pull back from your cunt, my cock rubs your clit triggering another little gasp of pleasure from your lips. In almost no time I feel your pelvis spasm as your first orgasm of the morning takes you. Continuing my movements, they begin to come more frequently. After about fifteen minutes of driving my steel-hard cock into you, your body is cuming continuously. I remember whispering to you — but I have no idea what I said — and seeing the loveliest smile on your lips. You had been soundlessly moving your lips almost from the beginning of our lovemaking. As I drive deep into your body it became apparent that you actually were saying something. But as my pounding continued and all of your feeling was concentrated in your pelvis — your cunt was the extent of your reality — as if it were a mantra you just kept constantly repeating "Fuck me." Now, as you were in continuous orgasm you just screamed it. Although your nails were raking my back, unlike the earlier time I'm certain there was no idea in your mind to hurt me. Rather it was just your desire overcoming you. Kate, at that moment, you were incapable of voluntary action of any kind. Your cunt was controlling your body and your very soul! Although I had been changing tempo to try to maintain control and maximize your enjoyment, I was losing it. Like you, all of my thoughts were now in my pelvis — in my cock buried so deeply in your cunt. With a scream, "I'm cuming!" I began to jet what seemed like gallons of cum into your torrid cunt. The instant I started to cum you thrust up at me as if you were trying to drive my cock the full length of your body so it would come out of your mouth. At that instant I felt your body go limp. Clearly the orgasmic shock to your body shorted everything else out. ------- Chapter 2 First of all, my name is Katherine... not Kate, not Slave... Katherine! Although I suspect you may have trouble with polysyllabic words, even you should be able to remember something as simple as that. Secondly, I am not the least bit surprised to find myself restrained again. Under the circumstances even the village idiot would have done the same. My only surprise is that you didn't do it sooner. Typical male, however... You gave no consideration to your own safety once your cock started doing your thinking for you. A few well chosen words, a smile, let you think you're in control. I must admit that spending the night next to a warm body that has no evident flea infestation, sweet breath, and doesn't reek of Eau de Wet Hunting Dog was a refreshing change. You sleep quite heavily, though. The one thing that saved your life was that the only weapon in the room was a large and rather unwieldy candlestick. At the time I was too exhausted to lift it, and had I been able to, I doubt that it would have made the slightest dent in your impossibly thick skull. Aside from that, the idea of bludgeoning you to death in your sleep was, to say the least, unattractive. It would have made a fearful mess! At some point in the night I had a stray, very confused moment. I could feel the bite wounds on your shoulder and thigh with my fingers. Touching them as you slept, I felt a passing sense of remorse. It was a fleeting thought, quickly gone and even more rapidly forgotten, I assure you. Next, your chamberlain would be well advised to watch his back or he may find a dagger in it buried there by my hand. (He is a complete, flaming, prancing faggot. I say this not to cast aspersions on his character, although that is a nice side benefit. He has, with alarming regularity, been bending over for the stable master. They are in love, I report with a sigh. Isn't it romantic? I am more than likely telling you nothing you don't already know about his preferences. Whether your knowledge comes from personal experience with him, or servant's gossip as mine did, is of no consequence.) I will pay him back in spades for what he has done to me, namely preventing me from being occupied by endless hours of backbreaking physical labor and instead arranging for me to be harnessed to you. He will be terribly sorry for that one day. The only worthwhile thing he has done for me, and that unintentionally, was ordering the bath which brought me Julia. She is a jewel, tiny and shimmering. My injury to her was an accident, the result of an automatic, unthinking reaction. This she understands. Her very gentleness, the giving sweetness of her nature, makes me wonder what the hell she is doing here with you. You don't deserve her and she, most assuredly, does not deserve you. Two final things: First, most of what your sodomite chamberlain was told was true. That is not the whole story, however, but I do not choose to share the rest of it with you. Second and last, if you ever decide that the time has come for you to hang me from that thing on your wall, rest assured that one way or another — if I have to chew it off, or snatch it out of my own head by the handful — my hair will be gone and so will I. ------- Following your loss of consciousness from an orgasmic overdose I eased out of the bed, showered, and went down to the Great Hall. There I found my chamberlain who told me the story of your presence in my castle and about the cleaning of your body by my handmaidens, your assault on Julia and its aftermath. When I brought Julia back to the apartment I confirmed what I had suspected: You truly love the young girl who is just on the cusp of womanhood, as I knew you would. ------- Following my taking you in your ass — and experiencing the most incredible sensations of my life — we all fell asleep in my gigantic bed. I cannot tell you how wonderful it felt to have your fragrant warmth at my side all night long. (This morning I confirmed another suspicion: You are wearing no perfume, only musk oil. The "perfume" I smell is nothing more than the natural fragrance of your magnificent body amplified by musk oil, the most expensive perfume base.) At any rate, the following morning when I awakened I again find you with your body against mine and your right arm over my chest. Looking over your body, though, this time I see Julia's lovely golden hair beyond your shoulder as she slept snuggled as close to you as her slender body could get. I was truly amused and delighted at what happened next. Easing out from under your arm I stopped and just watched. Kate, you were funny! Your right arm started to move around the bed over the warmth where my body had so recently been lying. Although you did not find me, you became aware of the wonderful warmth at your back. Rolling over, you faced Julia with both of you lying on your sides. You just hugged the little girl close to your body and then kissed her cheek. Although you were sound asleep — and she was, too — you sighed and she moaned with pleasure, hugged you tightly, and then the two of you just relaxed again in sleep. At that point I carefully pulled the covers up around your necks as my gorgeous auburn-haired slave and her golden-haired handmaiden just relaxed again in each other's arms. ------- Returning to the apartment, I pulled back the drapes and let the winter sunlight flood into my apartment. The two beauties in my bed awakened almost instantly. Knowing what to expect, I'm on Julia's side of the bed. As she awakens and realizes she is in bed with her mistress, the little girl was about to leap out of it. After all, as your handmaiden, she should already be up and about to serve you. Holding her down with my large hand on her shoulder I say softly, "Rest easy, little one." Turning to you I continue, "Slave Kate, please hold Julia tightly in your arms. The reason for holding her will soon become obvious." Your eyes instantly widened but then you positioned yourself spoon-fashion behind the girl and wrapped your arms around her. I saw you gently kiss her ear and saw her wriggle with pleasure when you did. Sitting down on the bed facing Julia, I was actually talking to you. And, my darling slave, you responded in the way I so hoped that you would. "Julia," I began, "I have just learned from my chamberlain" — I stuck my tongue out at you, Kate. In spite of your vituperative remarks, he really loves you — "and found out how you came to be with us." Looking at you I said softly, "Please hold her tightly, Kate? Please?" Again your eyes widened but immediately you did as I asked. "We found this out from the senior handmaiden, Julia. It seems that until the affair with Kate you had never spoken a word when conscious. However, you did talk — and cry, and scream — in your sleep so they knew you were not a true mute." Looking up at your incredible green eyes, Kate, I see they are widening with fear. While you could have no idea of where my story was going, it is very clear that you had a premonition of dread. "Julia, you and your mother were taken by raiders several years ago. Although they raped and murdered your mother, my darling, she saved your life — and your virtue — but at a terrible cost to herself. She volunteered to have her tits cut off and grilled on a brazier after they cauterized the gaping wounds on her chest with a red-hot ax blade. Then, while the remaining crew members finished raping her — every crew member took your mother at least once and we gather there were more than eighty of them — she was holding you in her arms and feeding you pieces of her grilled tit. It was the price she agreed to pay, Julia, so that her lovely child would not be raped as well." Kate, my darling, if I live to the age of 110, I will never forget the look of sheer horror I saw on your face as you heard the story and held that little girl in your arms. You had just encountered a degree of mother-love you probably did not think could exist. Actually, I guess all she really did was to consent to her maiming. Her own death, I'm afraid, was a foregone conclusion. Continuing, I said, "Darling Julia, Slave Kate is going to be your surrogate mother from now on. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sire," she replied softly. "And, Julia, there is one more thing. In the same manner that you are accepting all punishment that Slave Kate incurs, so she will accept any punishments that you might earn. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sire, I do," she said very softly. "I shall be exceeding good." "There is one more thing, Julia," I added. "I have issued orders to my captains. The raiders who tortured your mother to death are being hunted down even as we speak. Any left alive will be hung in chains from my castle walls until the last of their drying bones drop to the ground below. You might like to witness their last living hours on earth, my dear." With fire in her blue eyes but in a rather bland tone of voice she replied, "I should like that very much, Sire." ------- Picking up the phone I call for food to be brought to my apartment. Looking over at the bed, Kate, I almost cried with joy at your incredible kindness. You had turned Julia around on the bed so you were now lying on your sides hugging each other. Furthermore, the covers had slipped exposing your gorgeous ass. This gave me an idea. Going over to the bed I whisper, "Julia, my darling, may I borrow your mother — my slave — for a few minutes? Of course I don't need all of her — just her asshole — so if you lie on your back..." The girl gives me a remarkably happy little grin and moves aside. When she does, Kate, you say, "A woman's work is never done, my darling. And we are just sexual playthings for the men. How — and why — they always want to stick that huge thing between their legs into us is beyond me, but they always do..." So saying, you popped up on your knees and gave your trim little ass a wonderfully lascivious wiggle. Although I was surprised, I really should not have been. After all, my darling, you are utterly perfect so why should I be surprised? My cock is so hard it is like a steel rod, but unlike the rod it is vibrating with excitement. A single drop of pre-cum forms on its tip. Moving between your thighs I first surprise you by driving it into your cunt to its hilt. Although you are kissing Julia, you cannot control your scream of surprise. Without wasting a moment, though, I withdraw. Now using your cuntal fluids as lubrication, I place the tip against your amber ring. My hands are on your hips, and when my tip is correctly positioned, I start to drive into you. With your sphincter relaxed to an astonishing degree, you move your rump back sharply. With a little pop the head of my cock disappears into your asshole. There is a gasp and then I hear you say softly, "Master, you are thrilling your slave!" (In this connection, my darling slave, what am I going to do with you? I wanted to train you but it's not working out! Instead of a slave, I find myself with feminine perfection. But now there is a second form of control, darling Kate! In addition to the incredible love you have for your daughter, Julia, there is now also the control I can exercise through your cunt. My darling, I don't know what to do or say. I did not think it was possible for a woman to cum the way you do. It is as if I can see all of your senses move from your extremities and concentrate in your cunt. There seems to be no other feeling or sensation... and it just builds in intensity. Your cuming — easy, apparently — just builds in intensity and in frequency until you reach the state of virtually continuous orgasm. My darling, I think you have reached the point now where you could far more easily live without food than without my lovemaking. Am I right?) I start to move in and out of your very tight ass. As I withdraw I can feel the lining of your asshole pulled out with my cock, then put back in on my downstroke. While I'm working on your ass you continue to kiss Julia who seems to love seeing her new mother's ass devastated. "Does it really feel as good as it looks, Mommy?" she asks softly. I almost laugh when I hear your voice, almost incoherent with passion, gasp, "It's even better!" Suddenly you cum. Looking down I see a stream of your juices flowing down your thigh. Reaching out her hand, Julia wipes her hand up your thigh, brings it back to her mouth and licks it. "You're delicious, Mommy," she says softly. "No wonder our master likes to eat you so much!" To my utter amazement, two things are happening: First, your asshole is now so slippery slick I am moving in and out easily. Second, and in spite of nothing and no one being near your cunt, you are cuming with increasing frequency. "My God!" I wonder, "can you cum continuously with me in your ass, too?" ------- Chapter 3 Master, to say that I was furious with you yesterday would be the most British of understatements. After our early-morning encounter, I slept for several hours, utterly spent and satiated. When finally I awoke you were gone, Julia was gone, and I was alone. The door to your chamber was locked from the outside. Then I heard a key in the lock and smiled, thinking it was you. It turned out to be your chamberlain, and you know how I feel about him. Moreover, he brought two rather burly gents with him. Whether this was done to protect himself from me or for his own pleasure in watching their muscles ripple beneath their clothes, I do not know. One of them carried a covered tray. The smell wafting from it was heavenly and my mouth began to water. It was all I could do to drag my attention from it long enough to ask the chamberlain where you were. He lisped, "The Master is off." "I know he is unbalanced," I ground out, "but that's not what I asked." Then, while doing what I can only describe as his best Truman Capote impersonation, the little faggot had the nerve to say, "It's none of your concern. Best that you remember who is the master and who is the slave." That was not what I wanted to hear. I very casually removed the cover from the tray and commented on how delicious everything looked... before hurling the cover directly at his head. My aim was quite good and he now has an egg-sized bump on his forehead to show for his insolence. He fled and his companions followed. The door was again locked so I spent the rest of the afternoon feeding my rising anger. I paced, swore, and threw things. (The pheasant, by the way, was divine. My compliments to your chef.) I kept wondering what I had done to deserve this solitary confinement. Nothing came to mind except the scratches on your cheek. I felt I had more than paid for those the previous evening. I was in a full-blown rage by the time you arrived back at your apartment. "Kate, my darling slave," you said, your face wreathed in smiles. "Come kiss me." You could not have said anything worse at that moment. "Kate," "Slave," and an order, all in one breath. The first plate I threw at you went wide, but the second missed you by only a fraction of an inch. Before I could throw a third you had crossed the room and grabbed me around the waist. My body slammed into the wall, the pain from the impact on my badly-bruised backside shooting through me. You pinned me there with your body, my face level with yours, my toes barely brushing the floor. "You must have misunderstood me, Kate," you whispered. "What did I tell you to do?" "My name is Katherine," I hissed back, feeling the electricity begin to flow between us, aware of your body pressed to mine. "You said, 'Come kiss me.'" "But you did not. What should I do about this disobedience, Kate?" Your lips were so close to mine. In the blink of an eye, the intensity of my rage transformed itself into overpowering desire. "You should fuck me, Master, thoroughly and completely, until I am subdued." You smiled, from amusement or consternation, I do not know which. But that smile was all it took. My lips fused to yours, my arms encircled your neck. My legs came up to wrap themselves about your hips, locking us together. I could feel your cock through your clothes, swelling, hardening against me. Our kiss deepened, my tongue dancing, playing, circling yours. I broke the kiss to say, "You know, Master, I think one of us is very overdressed for this occasion. Who could that be?" Again your smile caused a surge of wetness between my legs. You turned and carried me, still locked against you, to the bed. I released you and began to tear at your clothes, ripping and shredding them in my eagerness to touch you, to feel your skin under my fingers. When all that remained of them was a discarded pile, I knelt on the bed before you and began to kiss a line down your chest, pausing to flick my tongue lightly over your nipples. My hands moved ahead, caressing your torso and legs before finding your cock, big and ready for me. I lowered my mouth to it, placing the sweetest of kisses on its head, licking away the drop that had already formed there. My lips and tongue started at the base and moved back up the length of your shaft to the throbbing head and then back down, over and over, slowly. It seemed impossible considering the size already, but your cock seemed to grow and swell more under this passionate teasing. My own need was becoming more intense, more demanding. My hand moved between my legs, my fingers circling the lips, brushing my clit ever so slightly. My pussy was dripping, soaked with my juices which were flowing faster now. I took your head fully in my mouth, running my tongue around it before sliding down the length as far as I could, then pulled back. My first orgasm came unexpectedly but with a power that caused my body to tremble. Suddenly, my hand was snatched away and I was pushed to my back. My hands were pinned above my head in one of yours. I looked at you in confusion wondering what I had done. "No, witch. No more of that. Now to the punishment you decided on. Tell me what you want." "I want you to fuck me, Master," I replied as I spread my legs wide to receive your cock. "Please!" I felt the tip against me and pushed forward to take it in me, but you moved away and my movement was restricted by my hands being pinned over my head. "What is your name?" you asked. "Katherine," I replied automatically. "And what else?" you asked. My body was quivering with need. Your free hand began to caress my breast, pinching and teasing its nipple. I cried out with pleasure. "And what else?" you repeated. Gasping, I whispered, "Kate." But you would not stop. "Again? Your name?" Now my body's need was overwhelming. "My name is Kate!" I screamed. "Good! Very good, Kate." Then you began to slide into me very slowly and my pussy stretched taking all of you, every inch of your cock. You pulled out almost entirely, leaving only its head still buried in me. "Who am I?" you asked. My hips bucked toward you, wanting you. "No, Kate. Who am I?" I was nearly wordless but managed to get out, "My loving Master!" ------- Kate, no wonder your former master kept you in the kennel with his dogs! Slave, you have an impossibly fresh mouth. Although I confess to laughing out loud at your reference to my poor chamberlain's Truman Capote imitation, he was not amused. In fact, the poor soul insists that the late, unlamented Truman was imitating him. Given my chamberlain's age, and the fact that AIDS has not yet made its presence felt on these shores, it is even possible. Nevertheless, he's harmless and very good at what he does. Slave, my command — which you will obey if you wish to feel my cock in your sopping-wet sheath within the next month — is to make your peace with him. I did not want to give away the fact that I intend to make you my queen. Incidentally, there is a delegation arriving in the next day or so from a strange kingdom called Texass or something stupid like that. (I'm not certain of the spelling, either.) I understand it's very hot and very humid, with nothing much there. According to the dispatch the courier delivered, they think you may be their princess, kidnaped and carried off by raiders years ago. They claim to have some means of establishing your identity if indeed you are the woman they are seeking. (I suppose I shouldn't say this, but if you are the woman they seek, you are now their queen! Your erstwhile parents were recently killed in an accident. Supposedly, there was also a boy, your brother, carried off in the same raid. He has not been located, either. If he is found, of course, he will succeed to the throne in your place.) But in the meantime, Slave, please continue to work with your daughter — our daughter! — Julia. ------- Well, Master, if you wish I will make nice-nice with your chamberlain. My hatred of him stemmed not from his lifestyle, but from the idea that because of him, I am stuck with you. However, also because of him I am being stuck by you with what I can only call pleasing regularity. In thanks for this, I should fall on my knees and kiss his feet every day, not that I will, of course. In the future, peace will reign in your household, if not in your bedroom. Thinking of which, I am surprised it took you this long to figure out that the way to control me is erotically. I must admit that being horizontal with you is fast becoming one of my favorite activities, whether that be in bed, on the floor, or some alternative locale. A case in point was breakfast yesterday. Seeing as how you thought Julia's instruction in the ladylike arts was going along rather well, I suggested that a formal breakfast with her would be in order. It is difficult to judge how one should act when the only instruction received, as in her case, is by observation. Thank you, my lord, for providing me with suitable attire after much grumbling about the fact that my current state of undress suited you perfectly. The morning gown is lovely and the perfect shade of dark green. I did notice that no... how shall I say... foundational garments... ? were supplied with the dress. But no matter. We did get a rather late start, so the Great Hall was deserted save for the servants. With you seated at the head of the table and Julia and I seated to either side, breakfast was served, a seemingly endless array of wonderful dishes. Things seemed to be going along swimmingly, when Julia and I had an attack of silliness. One thing led to another, and before too terribly long Julia shot a fork-full of food in my direction. This, of course, necessitated a counterattack on my part. For some reason — something about a new tunic, I think — you were not terribly amused by these goings-on. This merely added to the hilarity for Julia and me. With me egging her on, Julia's next shot was a direct hit on you. The next thing I knew I was being hauled out of my chair, pushed face down against the table, and my skirts were thrown over my head. All of this happened so quickly your first spank came as a total shock. After the first came two more, accompanied by my howls of pain and outrage. "This earns you a total of ten, Slave. Five for Julia's misbehavior, and five for your enticing her to misbehave. I can hardly punish her for following your lead." While saying all this, I could feel your hand caressing my stinging backside but at the same time I could feel the wetness beginning between my legs. Then another spank, sudden and sharp, followed again by the light touch of your fingers. This continued, each spank seeming more forceful than the one before, each caress after, more gentle and loving. What is this power you have over me, that my desire overwhelms me at your touch, no matter the reason? It is a power you know you possess, for no sooner than the last painful spank had been delivered then I felt your fingers inside me and heard you laugh at the state that you found me in. That laugh sent me over the edge, both in passion and outrage. I turned to face you. "Well, now that you've got me ready to fuck, what do you plan to do about it?" I demanded. You smiled and replied, "Go to the apartment. Wait for me there." "Like hell I will!" I retorted as I reached out for your cock and found exactly what I expected. You were hard, throbbing, so hot I could feel it through your clothes. "Why wait?" I asked, "when so obviously you want me now." I turned back to the table and swept the dishes off onto the floor, clearing a place. At that moment I caught a glimpse of Julia who stood there transfixed, watching the events unfold with her face showing amazement and something else. Facing you again I continued, "Please, Master. There's no point in denying yourself and me merely for the sake of decorum." I eased myself onto the table, ignoring the pain caused by the spanking. In my need for you, my darling master, nothing else mattered. Before I could lift my skirts, you had your cock free of your clothes, and the sight of it brought a shiver of delight to me. With no preliminaries, you slid into my waiting pussy, the feel of the entire length of you in me bringing my first climax. My legs wrapped around you. With every hard thrust slamming my ass into the table, I could feel you swelling inside me, increasing my pleasure and pain until they melded seamlessly. The orgasms were almost endless, coming one after another, so intense I cried out for you at each one. I could feel you begin to cum inside me, and I tightened my muscles down hard on you, prolonging your pleasure and my own. I heard you say something as the release came over you; what, I do not know for I was too wrapped up in myself to decipher it. Indeed, my lord, it would appear that we are fated to be together, if for no other reason than that the gods certainly would not make two people so perfectly attuned sexually as you and I, and then not put us in each other's path at some point. Destiny, Master. There is no other explanation. ------- After regaining my breath — you exhaust me, woman! — I lifted your head and shoulders off the breakfast table and was about to rest your head against my shoulder when I looked down at your crotch and saw our mixed fluids slowly leaking from your shaved pussy. Turning towards Julia — who was incredibly cute, by the way, sitting with her chin in her hands still gaping at the scene she had just witnessed — I ordered her to get some specific items from the table and from the kitchen. After first shedding her gown she helped me get you out of yours. Frankly, Kate, there wasn't a lot left of your gorgeous green morning gown. When I asked Julia why she stripped too, she replied that if her mistress — and beloved new mother — could not wear clothing, she would not either. At any rate, she quickly returned having gathered the materials I requested. Then she helped me move you to the end of the table after first clearing the debris from the meal. Again I chuckled at our daughter: carefully she folded your dress and hers in ways to make a small pillow for your head. With a little grin she commented, "Master, if we cannot wear our gowns, surely we can derive some benefit from them." Realizing what she was trying to do I ordered her to sit on the table and rest your head on her lap. This she did with alacrity while I began my work. First, I took a bowl of strawberry preserves and liberally spread the sweet sticky substance the full length of your slit. Then I followed this with whipped cream that I squirted from a pressurized container. Finally I topped the line of whipped cream with three small but perfectly-shaped strawberries. Fresh berries appear at my court daily — brought here at great expense, I might add — but are seldom touched. As I was admiring my handiwork, you began to regain consciousness. My body was between your thighs so you could not close your legs. At the same time Julia held you tightly and kissed you full on the lips. My darling, I did not believe it! Julia's kiss had even more love for you in it than mine do. (On the other hand, I augment my love for you with an equally great allowance of pure passion!) When you realized what had happened, you wriggled your hips in delight while being careful in no way to disturb my "dessert." Lowering my head, I began by taking each strawberry in turn in my teeth, raising my head, and carefully crushing the berry between my strong white teeth. For some reason this caused you to giggle, a marvelously merry sound I have come utterly to adore! Then I began on the whipped cream, and finally arrived at the strawberry preserves. But as I suspected — and hoped — your cunt was again running with your juices which served to dilute the preserves, permitting them to run. After eating out much of your pussy and nibbling repeatedly on your clit causing a small orgasm each time, I paused. Standing up, I clapped my hands and a servant came running from the kitchen. After hearing my order, he disappeared for a moment and soon reappeared carrying a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Opening it carefully, he positioned a wine cooler and handed it to me after carefully wrapping it in a cloth. "Hold still, now!" I commanded. You shivered in anticipation, but, as I expected, did not move a muscle. You did, however, do your best to raise your pelvis and roll it backward to make your pussy a vessel for my beverage. I poured carefully and you squealed when the cold liquid came in contact with your hot cunt. Your eyes almost closed as you murmured, "My darling, it feels so good! Oh, God! I can feel the bubbles inside me!" Lowering my lips I suck at your cunt again. The taste sensation is delicious! I have an idea and immediately put it into action: I take a mouthful of the mixed fluids: the champagne, flavored by the remainder of the strawberry preserves and your delectable love juices. Moving up beside you, I kiss you and open my mouth releasing the fluids from my mouth to yours. Although your head is still resting on Julia's thigh, your hand comes up and holds my head in position while you melt your lips against mine. "Thank you, my darling master!" you exclaim softly. "You are spoiling me so." Having cleaned out your pussy I realize that things have gotten really messy. Reaching down, I effortlessly lift your slender body off the table, roll you over, and fold your body over my left shoulder with your head hanging down my back. Thinking of your long hair I wonder how far down it reaches since your head itself is roughly at the level of the small of my back. With you jackknifed over my shoulder I march out of the great hall and head back to my apartment. The fact that we are all bare-assed naked does not appear to bother any of us. In fact I can hear Julia following behind, giggling merrily. I'm virtually certain that you are causing her giggles, undoubtedly by making faces as you're being carried along. Calling out to Julia, I order her to race ahead to the apartment and draw water in our giant bathtub. When filled, it is possible for the two of us actually to float side by side. My idea is to clean you off and then fuck you again, but this time in the tub. ------- To the bath with my master. Being tossed over your shoulder in what I can only call an unceremonious manner was less than my preferred mode of transport. I can walk, Master, but if you feel you must carry me, a method other than that used for hauling sacks of manure would be appreciated. My saying this and struggles to make my point earned me yet another spank. Unable to let that pass without response, I played my fingers down your back, watching your muscles move under your skin. Then working my hands down to the cheek of your ass, I ran my palm lightly over it before dealing a sharp pinch to it. This got a laugh from you and (why should I be surprised at this, I wonder?) yet another spank, much more forceful than the one before. I yelled and howled about the unfairness of the situation all the way to your apartment. You kept laughing, at what I don't know, because I didn't think my predicament was the least bit funny. Julia had dashed ahead to fill the bath, but not before grabbing the wine cooler with the still half-full champagne bottle and two glasses. The girl can now practically read my mind; she scares me to death. In any event, the tub was filled before any of us got there on the instructions of your chamberlain, being no fool and being well-trained as you pointed out. I could hear music playing softly from the marvelous speakers, Chopin's Ballades, I think. You put me down. I turned and saw the bath, steam rising slightly from it, the champagne and glasses on the side, Julia already in the tub, waiting. The tub is so large and lovely, the water came to Julia's waist and highlighted her perfect budding tits. The whole scene had an almost hypnotic effect on me. Without a word I headed directly to the steps at the side of the tub, up the outer two, and down those on the inside into the water. The feeling as I completely immersed myself defies description. Peaceful, languorous, so relaxing... it was as if my bones have melted away. I broke the surface, sighing with pleasure, water streaming down my hair and face. Before my eyes could open I felt Julia's fingers in my hair, beginning to wash it with a gentle touch. I gave myself up to the luxury of the heat of the water and her ministrations, whispering endearments to her softly. When she finished shampooing, she poured a pitcher of warm water over my hair, rinsing it thoroughly. After wiping the water from my eyes, I opened them for the first time. I found you watching me intently with an expression on your face I've never seen before. "Please come to us, Master," whispered Julia, as she twisted my wet hair into a pile and pinned it on top of my head. "We've missed you so." I smiled... an invitation, a request. My eyes never left your face as you joined us in the water, immersing yourself as I had. Julia moved around behind you and began to work her magic on you, her hands in your hair, her young fingers now strong and skilled. Her indulgence had a similar effect on you to what it had on me. Your eyes began to close. I picked up a cake of soap, lathering my hands with it. I begin at your neck and work across your shoulders. I caress you gently, massaging the soap into your skin down your chest to where the waterline begins, then washing it away. Julia has finished with your hair but rather than rinsing it fully at the moment, you relaxed totally, just floating on the surface of the bathtub. I lather my hands again and pass the soap to Julia who moves to the opposite side of the tub and does the same. I take your hand and start working up your arm, Julia following my every move exactly on the other side as if we are one being. Down from mid-chest, down your torso, one hand on each side, the other beneath your back supporting you. We stop long enough to soap our hands once more. Your eyes are closed, your breathing is becoming ragged. Your cock is hard before the first touch of my hand. When that caress comes, it moves in response. Still with one hand beneath you, Julia's hand and mine begin teasing your long shaft with the most delicate touch you can imagine; soapy fingertips running down the length and back. You groan softly as a hand finds your balls and plays with them gently, while at the same time feeling fingers of the other wrap around your cock completely and begin long, deliberate, rhythmic strokes. "Mother," Julia asks, "are all men built like our master? Do they have... ?" "... Cocks, my darling," I reply. "And the answer is no. My darling daughter, if all men were built like my master, women's liberation would never have gotten off the ground." With a little grin I added, "We women would be too sexually satiated ever to give a damn!" Unexpectedly, you rolled over and pulled me with you to the steps, holding me with my back to your chest. You sat on a mid-step. I could feel your rod, hot and throbbing against my skin. Spreading my legs I moved up, positioning your swollen head at my slit. The water, of course, makes everything slower and the first time I eased my pussy onto the entire length of you seems to take an eternity. Each stroke that follows comes in the same slow, sensual measure. I feel your hand move around to my clit, your fingers massaging it in time with my strokes. Again, as if she has read my mind — or yours, I don't know which — I feel Julia begin to touch my breasts, fondling them, lightly pinching my hardened nipples in the same cadence we have already established. The sensual tension builds in me to a fever pitch and the first in a seemingly endless series of orgasms begins, overwhelming in its intensity, beyond anything I have ever known. I am screaming silently in passion, release. They are so strong, my cunt communicates each contraction of my inner muscles to you. My pleasure becomes yours, transmitted to your cock exactly as I feel it, flowing through me to you. I hear your groans coming from deep inside you, building. Your rod begins to pulsate in me to it's own rhythm and I feel your cum shooting into me. All goes black... ------- Chapter 4 I don't know what I am going to do with you. I have learned that you and our daughter, Julia, could just walk out of the castle any time you care to. You see, my darling slave, without a word from me, my entire guard force considers you to be their queen, regardless of what I may do or say — or fail to do, for that matter. At any rate, to them you are Lady Godiva. At your approach the guards turn their backs so as not to embarrass their beloved queen. Furthermore, I must confess to high-tech spying on you and Julia. As you certainly know, men never outgrow their need for toys; the toys just get more expensive. When one has the resources at his disposal that I do, the toys can be very interesting. The fact is, my darling slave, that I videotape the two of you in virtually every waking moment. [Yes, I know video won't be invented for almost 600 years, but Morgan wants video tape, and since this is, after all, a work of fiction... ] I watch as the two of you run laps on my private running track outside the apartment and then swim laps in the pool. What impresses me constantly, though, Kate, is how much you know and how skillful you are in working with Julia. My darling, that girl, now beginning to blossom into young womanhood, utterly adores you! And with good reason. You see, I listen in on all of your conversations using a long-range microphone: it has become my principal amusement. Regardless of what the question might be that Julia raises — from Shakespeare to sex — you address it seriously and appropriately. When you walk naked around the grounds, the two of you are like wood nymphs or sprites. You look so much at home and so natural in the setting. And then there are your giggles! Darling, I have come utterly to adore the sound. The two of you together seem to have such fun. I can't tell you how happy this makes me in light of what poor Julia has suffered in the past. But now, dear heart, there is a spring in her step, brilliance in her eyes, and a near-permanent smile on her face. It is so wonderful to see the changes in that marvelous girl. This is true particularly after the trial and execution of the surviving raiders who had killed her mother. Never will I forget her, sitting in the witness box wearing a simple white gown, telling in frightening detail the horrible tortures and hideous death her mother suffered. She was able to identify one of the men present in court as the one who had amputated her mother's tits and grilled them. At the same time from my position as presiding judge I watched the accused. I could see her story actually move those heartless men. After I pronounced the death sentences, my suspicions were confirmed when the senior survivor with tears flowing down his cheeks, asked if the golden-haired princess would please perform the execution herself: Throw the lever springing the trapdoors on the scaffold. With her face expressionless and in a very flat tone of voice, Julia replied that she would be pleased to. And she did. When the fourteen bodies were wrapped in chains and hanging from the battlements I heard Julia murmur, "Mother, I hope you can now rest in peace. You are avenged!" I took her into my arms, held her tightly, and listened to the sound of her tears. But I think she has put the past behind her at long last. ------- My darling Kate, the most moving experience I have ever had came this morning when I met you alone on a garden path. (I believe you had left Julia in the apartment practicing her penmanship.) At my approach you dropped to your knees on the path and took the classic submissive position: knees spread wide opening your pussy; head and back up straight, hands clasped behind your neck forcing your tits up and out, and with your eyes downcast. As I came closer I could see that your nipples were not only hard, they were actually vibrating with tension. Moreover, I could see a couple of drops of fluid, then more and finally almost a steady stream flowing from your pussy. Just as I was about to commend you for your behavior I noticed that there were tears flowing unchecked down your cheeks. "What's the matter, my darling slave?" I asked. "Permission to look at my master's face?" you responded. I instantly granted permission and your emerald-green eyes came up and locked on mine. "I am a failure and a fraud," you said softly. "Failure? Fraud? What on earth are you saying, Kate?" "Just look at me, beloved Master! I am supposed to be groveling in fear at your feet. I am supposed to hate you." The flow of your tears increased and your voice broke as you continued, "But just look at me! My nipples are vibrating in hopes you will at least touch them. Possibly I could get you to bite them. My pussy? Good heavens! Just look at it, Master. It's running like a river in hopes your cock, your finger — anything of yours! — might penetrate it." At that, my darling, you completely lost control. Your body jack-knifed forward while your knees involuntarily closed. With your hands still locked on the back of your neck you buried your face in your thighs and just bawled. Needless to say I was dumbstruck and, like all men, completely at a loss in the presence of a woman's tears. And, my darling, you were crying as if your heart was broken. Dropping down beside you I scooped you up off the ground and held you in my arms. Instantly your arms were around my neck and you were nuzzling your face into it. Looking around, I remembered an abandoned stable nearby. Since it was cold and getting colder I didn't know how you could be naked and out in the elements the way you were. When I asked, you just whispered that you had experienced far worse, but snuggled as close to me as you could, anyway. I found my way along the now-almost-invisible path to the stable. It turned out to be much closer to the walking path than I remembered. Only then did I realize that I probably had not been there since I was a small boy, when all distances seemed greater than they do now. Remarkably, the stable was still intact. I opened the door and, although the hinges squeaked horribly, it stayed together as I closed and latched it again. In my arms you wriggled and tried to snuggle closer. With your lips almost in my ear I heard your throaty whisper, "I adore you, my darling master!" Holding you tightly I whispered in your ear, "Are you still wet? Are your nipples as hard as they were?" In the next instant my love for you deepened yet again. (My darling, I don't know how, quite honestly. I did not believe it possible for one person to love another more than I do you at this moment — and yet it just gets worse! Or better. Or something.) With the throatiest little chuckle you said in the sexiest voice I've ever heard, "I'm in your arms, my darling. My pussy is running rivers but my nipples have softened with the rest of my body as all of my body parts await yet another onslaught from your magnificent cock. And you know what?" you asked with the cutest little grin. "What?" "My asshole has relaxed in hopes that it will be the opening you select. My pussy is running rivers as I just said, and my mouth is salivating. Darling, are there any other parts of me that could get into this contest? To be selected as Kate's opening of the hour?" Dropping to my knees I found that the hay was remarkably nice. It was completely dry as I gently laid you on your back. Instantly your thighs spread wide and, with the most lascivious grin I've ever seen, you ran your finger up your slit, brought it to your mouth, and gently sucked it. "Yum," you said softly as again you wiped your finger up your slit but this time held it up to me and asked, "Want a taste? I'm remarkably sweet this afternoon." Dropping to my knees between your thighs I lifted your legs and put them over my shoulders. "Master, please!" you pretended to protest while your eyes were dancing. "Surely you're not... I mean you could not... you would not... put your mouth... there?" With your luscious bare pussy now at my lips, I probed your slit with my tongue and found your clit. Whipping it back and forth with my tongue, in just an instant you came, releasing a stream of cuntal juices I eagerly lapped up. My darling, your pussy is an utter delight. And, in fact, it tastes like salty strawberries. As I continued to poke, lick, and probe with my tongue — you really give me a workout, lady — you began to cum with increasing frequency. Soon again I had you in the condition you obviously have come to love: continuous orgasm. At the same time you were chanting your variant mantra and your voice became louder as you just screamed, "Eat-me-eat-me-eat-me-eat-me... !" Just as I sensed you were about to pass out, I stopped, quickly lowered your ass to the hay and plunged my raging cock into your cunt to the hilt. The only change was a marvelous smile and a change in your words. Now it became, "Fuck-me-fuck-me-fuck-me... !" as I drove into your so-tight, but so-wet little pussy. As your cunt gripped my cock, incredibly it grew even larger in both length and breadth. And you, my luscious slave, just murmured, "Split me, Master! Open my cunt! Rip me in half... !" Finally, neither of us could take it any longer. When your continuous cuming carried me over the brink, I screamed, too. I don't know if you passed out first, my darling Kate, or if I did, but we were both destroyed. ------- I don't know how long we slept, Master, but when I awoke, late afternoon rays of sun streamed through cracks in the stable walls. You were still asleep on your back, my head on your chest and one of my legs thrown across yours. It seemed very much colder than it had been. I pulled the blanket closer about us and snuggled closer to you, savoring your warmth and the feeling of your body and skin against mine. It occurred to me that for the first time I had both the presence of mind and the inclination to study you with my eyes and hands at my leisure. I leaned up on one elbow, looked into your face, in slight profile away from me. My eyes took in all that I could see: the wide, smooth forehead, straight nose, the dark slash of an eyebrow, line of your lips, the color of your skin. My hand came up and I brushed your cheek with my fingers, traced along your jaw to your chin. Down your neck and across your shoulders, my eyes and hand moved slowly until they came to the edge of the blanket. I laid my head down on you again as my vision was cut off from the rest of you. My fingers continued. They played over your chest, feeling the mat of hair before I ran the palm of my hand over your ribs. You stirred and I froze, not wanting to awaken you, needing to continue this exploration of you uninterrupted. After a slight shift of position you were sleeping as before. I lay there quietly for a few seconds, not moving, listening to your heart beating strongly in my ear. The tactile scrutiny then moved on to your flat stomach and then lower. My fingers encountered the wiry coarse texture of your pubic hair and found your cock nestled there, quiet and soft as you slept. The idea of how to awaken you came to me in a rush. The temptation overwhelmed me. I ducked beneath the blanket, shifting my body down. I took your cock in my mouth, all of it. (The only time I had ever been able to accomplish that, I might add.) As a result of our last encounter, I could taste my juices and your cum on you. My tongue started to tease and play with you, and my hand and fingers caressed your sac gently. Your shaft began to harden almost immediately. I pulled back slightly, circling your rod with my tongue, closing my lips around you, sucking with increasing intensity. The sensation of your cock growing harder, longer in my mouth is beyond description. My pussy juices started to flow. I continued licking you, opening my mouth wider to take in as much of your now fully-engorged cock as I could, scraping lightly the length of your shaft with my teeth, feeling your body tense and quiver. I don't know at what point you awoke fully, but suddenly your hand was tangled in my hair and I could hear your ragged breathing and soft groans. This fueled my own passion even further. My hand wandered down between my legs, my fingers moving into the slit and inside my cunt before I withdrew them, soaked now, and began rubbing my aching clit. My first orgasm was on me almost instantly, and I transferred much of that release to my mouth, moving it up and down your shaft with longer, faster strokes. The groans from deep in my throat seemed to increase the intensity for you as you started using your hand in my hair to control my pace, moving my head in a rhythm you set. Your cock was slamming my mouth, my lips and tongue hungry for you. My orgasms began again, my body writhing in reaction, the screams building in me. I could feel your rod begin to pulsate, and before the words were out of you, I felt the first spray of cum hit the back of my throat. Then jet after jet of it, going on endlessly it seemed. I was very greedy, wanting more of it, all of it, savoring the creamy, salty taste of your cum. After what seemed like a very long time the stream stopped. Unwilling to quit at this point, I played with your balls, sucking lightly on you, draining you completely. Your hand, still in my hair, pulled my head away. I moved back up to look into your face, eyes wide, the very picture of innocence. "What is it, Master?" You laughed softly. "Enough, woman! There isn't any more!" A mock pout from me, then a very warm smile. "We need to get back soon," you added. "It's getting dark now and earlier it looked like there was snow on the way." "No! Oh, no, Master. Please let's stay a bit longer." This outburst earned me a quizzical look. "Well, we're alone; that's why. I know this is just an old stable, and I know I have no clothes, and I know wanting to stay here sounds like insanity. I am asking you to indulge me, just this once." "Just this once? Slave, all I seem to do is indulge you: all the time, perpetually! Speaking of indulgences, did you apologize to the chamberlain? He and I have waited long enough and your apology is quite overdue." I rolled over onto my back next to you and said in my most casual voice, "You know, Master, if anyone should apologize, it should be you to me." I could practically hear your jaw hit the floor. "Well, you told him about that Truman Capote comment and you shouldn't have. It was obviously only going to make for hurt feelings on his part. You knew that was said only to you for a reason. Since you caused the problem, you should apologize to me first. Then, I will be more than happy to beg the chamberlain's pardon." For some unknown reason, this line of feminine logic met with an unbroken silence. ------- When I recovered consciousness I found us lying face to face enfolded in each other's arms. Moreover, we were under an ancient, but still warm, horse blanket. Did you awaken, find it, and cover us with it? At any rate I gently squeezed your body. Instantly your glorious emerald-green eyes were looking into mine. "Good afternoon, my master," you whispered. "And how may your devoted slave, Kate, serve you now?" "I thought you didn't like the name, Kate, Slave? Why do you use it?" "Because, beloved master, you like it. I don't know how much longer I will live, Sire, because of your constant assaults on my pussy, my ass, my mouth... On the other hand, I cheerfully offer up my life if I can choose this as my way to go." Gently I pulled you closer, kissed you softly, and we went back to sleep still wrapped in each other's arms. Later that day the first snow of the winter arrived. ------- Chapter 5 When next I awakened, I found myself wrapped in your arms, dear Kate. Ignoring the cold — the stable was now freezing — I got out from under the blanket and went to the door. Although I tried to open it just a crack, a gust of wind hit it just as I unlatched it, blasting snow and frigid air into our little refuge. Ignoring the cold and my now-chattering teeth, I looked outside and found to my surprise that there was already nearly a foot of snow on the ground. I carefully latched the door and then retreated, my tail — and my sharply retracted cock — between my legs to the warmth and comfort of your body. Kate, you are utterly beyond belief! Although it was clear to me that you were both awake and conscious of the cold, you took me into your arms and instantly tried to warm me as much as you could. My darling, with you that is a very great deal! But at the same time you gave up trying to pretend to be asleep. "Hello, my darling master," you said. "Did you sleep well?" I asked. "As well as could be expected, given the assaults on my poor beaten body," you replied with a lascivious wink. "My darling, the snow is already almost a foot deep on the flat. The wind is roaring, and the snow is very light. Kate, we could find drifts feet deep already... And since neither of us have digestive systems that can handle hay..." You grinned and held up your arms. "In a moment, Slave," I responded feigning annoyance but softening it with a wink. Quickly I dressed and fastened my cloak around my neck. After wrapping your luscious body in the horse blanket, I hugged you close. When I did, you opened the cloak to get as much of you inside it as was possible. With the cutest little grin you wrapped your arms around my neck and waited. My darling Kate, I still do not know how you do it. But with your head resting on my left shoulder, somehow you manage to lighten your body so that you feel essentially weightless in my arms. Seeing the look in my eyes, you pull yourself closer and very gently melt your lips against mine. I sigh and simultaneously feel your body shudder with delight. Going to the door, I brace my foot against it to keep it from being blown back against us, and then open it. When the first gust of Arctic air hits you, you cringe, but then open like a flower. Kate, you actually love it! Closing the door of the stable behind us — for what reason, I have no clue — I move off on what I think is the path. Unfortunately, the very dry snow has drifted. Everything is absolutely flat. There is no sign of any path. Nevertheless, I move out following the imagined track. While I'm using my feet as probes, putting my weight down very carefully with each step, I see my darling slave enjoying the situation immensely. Your head is back and your mouth is open as you try to catch the falling snowflakes. Never, my darling, have I seen anything so adorable. I'm scared to death, but my darling slave is enjoying herself immeasurably. Finally, after what seems like hours but which, I'm sure, was not more than thirty minutes, I am out on the main trail. Now, with some confidence in the direction I am to go, I move off very briskly. As we approach the castle gates I am surprised and pleased to see that I need not call for the drawbridge to be lowered or the portcullis raised. As we approach within a hundred yards or so, I see the bridge coming down. By the time we reach the land end of the bridge, the portcullis is rising and the huge castle gates are opening. The instant the gates are open, mounted troops start to move out. Seeing me, though, the captain commanding signals a halt. Following only a minimum of confusion, in just a few short minutes we are inside the castle walls, the gates closed, the portcullis down, and the drawbridge raised to its secure position. While I stand with you in my arms, the troop commander, Captain Johnson, is on his knee before me. "Thank God, Sire!" he exclaims. "We were terrified that we had lost you, and... and..." "... his slave, Captain," you supplied quietly. "I am our master's body slave..." "... your lady, Sire!" the captain completed. Looking up at us he asked, "Are you both all right?" "We're fine, Captain, I assure you," I replied. Just then a woman approached with a bundle in her arms accompanied by one of Johnson's troopers. The two dropped to their knees before me, Kate, but it was quite clear to me, at least, that they were on their knees before you, not me. On their knees with their eyes downcast the trooper said softly, "Sire, we humbly request permission to speak." Glancing down at your face, dear Kate, it was clear that you knew these people. "Of course, Trooper," I replied. "Identify yourself." "My name is Collins, Your Highness," he replied. "This is my wife, Judy, and our child..." "What is the baby's name?" I asked. "That's why we're here, Sire," he replied. "We are on our knees asking your lady if she would allow us to name our lovely daughter, Katherine, after her." Looking down at you, Kate, I could see you blushing crimson with embarrassment. To Collins I asked, "And why would you care to name your lovely baby after my lady?" "Because, Sire," he replied, "were it not for your lady, neither my wife nor my daughter would be alive." I glanced down at you, Kate, saw that you were continually blushing, thus confirming Collins' story. "What did she do?" I asked gently. "Sire, when my wife's time came, your lady appeared at the door of our tiny house. Judy's friends were there beside her but they knew nothing of what was to come. Lady Katherine quickly recognized the situation and took charge. She realized that the infant had not turned completely. Rather than coming down the birth canal head first, the poor thing was being forced down sideways. It could not possibly work. Our child would have died, and Judy as well." Collins swallowed hard and continued. "Your lady obtained a knife, sharpened it, and heated it over a flame. Then she cut into Judy's belly and lifted the infant out. Giving it to one of the other women to clean off, she then carefully sewed Judy up again." Tears were pouring down the honest soldier's face as he concluded, "She saved the life of my wife and my daughter, Your Highness. We respectfully request permission to name our daughter, Katherine, after her." At that moment, Julia appeared. Seeing the Collins, she tried to hide but they had already seen her. "Good afternoon, Princess," Collins said. For her part, Julia looked like she would like to disappear into a crack between the paving stones. "Julia!" I demanded. "What have you been doing with the Collins?" While Julia dropped to her knees, Collins said brightly, "Without the Princess, we could not have made it, either. Every day — twice a day at the beginning — she appeared at our home. She bathed Judy. She washed and changed the baby, giving her to her mother to nurse. She cooked our food, did the laundry, cared for mother and child..." The trooper shook his head and I could see tears in his eyes as he continued, "Sire, there is absolutely nothing we will not do for the two women in your life. They are angels come to earth." Then taking a deep breath he repeated, "May we have your permission, Mistress, to name our daughter after you?" "Does your daughter have a godmother?" you asked softly. "No, Mistress, of course not," Collins replied. "Would... Could... Would you permit my lord to be the godfather and me to be the child's godmother?" Hearing your words, my darling, I squeezed you tightly in my arms. You sighed with pleasure as I did. "Permit!" Collins exclaimed. "But Sire... my Lady..." He shook his head and finally said, "Nothing could please us more..." And then, darling Kate, you did something I will never, ever forget. You spoke softly to the baby and said, "May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He make his light to shine upon you. May He guide you and keep you safe for your very long and fruitful life until you can join Him in Heaven for all eternity..." At that instant, my darling Kate, for whatever reason — a fluke of nature, perhaps — a single ray of sunlight came down upon the forehead of the infant. The infant sighed, smiled the most beatific smile I have ever seen, and went to sleep. Her mother held her tightly and began to cry. "Milady," she sobbed, "our daughter is yours. From this day forward she exists only to serve you..." Shaking your head you said softly, "If it wouldn't upset you too much, would you... could you... please, call her Kate? That is what I most like to be called." I pulled you close, my darling, and melted my lips to yours. ------- As usual, my darling Kate, your lips are utterly delicious. Although I desperately want to make love to you again, it is clear that some discipline is called for. After all, how can I rule if my slave is running around the countryside doing good when I know nothing of it? Putting you down on the freezing-cold paving stones I am amused at the moue that appears on your face for an instant but is as quickly gone. Katherine, for the life of me I do not know how you do it! Yet clearly you are a remarkably strong and capable young woman. Turning to Julia, I glare at her and say, "Your mother will receive her beating first, young lady. Escort her back to the apartment and secure her to the post I recently had installed in the exercise room. It is much too cold and too stormy to whip her outdoors. Oh!" I added as an apparent afterthought, "Have her select the whip she considers appropriate before securing her to the post. And secure her with her back to the post. I wish to whip her tits and cunt this evening." Without a word, Julia took you by your elbow — you were clutching the horse blanket to your body — and escorted you away from the courtyard. After talking a bit more with the captain I suggested that it would be nice if Trooper Collins were to be given two weeks leave. The captain instantly gave the order, and my chamberlain was there with a small sack of gold to present to the Collins as a birthday present for their beautiful daughter, Kate. I guess I almost lost it, darling. Poor Judy Collins came utterly unglued. The trooper was holding his baby daughter in one arm while trying to comfort his wife with the other. When order was finally restored, Judy explained that she was so happy — never in her whole life had she been so happy — she just had to cry. Katherine, if I live to be 100, never will I understand women! At any rate, I made my way back to the apartment and locked the door securely. Entering the exercise room I saw you standing before the whipping post. With your arms behind your back it forced your high firm tits up even higher. At the same time the tension on your body brought your muscles into relief and for the first time I realized what an incredible body you have. There, kneeling beside you, was Julia with a ten-foot bullwhip! "Rise, Julia," I commanded, "and explain this whip. With it I can strip the flesh off your mother's bones!" Before Julia could reply you said softly, "Master, it is in hopes that you will relent and not beat our daughter. Sire, everything she did, she did at my instruction. Please give me the punishment for both of us." Since I had no intention of punishing you at all, I was about to drop the whip when I looked at Julia. "And what, little girl, has happened to you? When last I looked, you were a scant five feet tall. Now you appear — what? — five feet six? Seven?" "I am almost five feet seven, Master," Julia replied. "And now my tits are forming, I have hips and thighs..." Her eyes widened as she finished, "Do I please you, Master?" I did not reply. Instead, dear Kate, I went to where you were secured by the leather handcuffs to the whipping post. Moving as close as I could get I lowered my head and cocked it. You instantly did the same and a moment later our lips met. Darling, what am I going to do? Each time I kiss you I believe that it is the finest kiss possible — but the next time you surpass it. What am I to do? Softly ending the kiss I murmur, "I adore you, Katherine!" "The name is Kate, beloved Master," you reply with an adorable grin. I quickly unfasten the handcuffs and order Julia to draw a bath for us. As soon as your wrists are released without even rubbing them to restore circulation you have your arms around my neck and are mashing your body to mine. "Why did you not beat me, Master?" you whisper softly. "I have been very bad..." "Can you be controlled with force, Kate? With chains and whips and beatings?" Slowly you shake your head in negation. "But now I can control you, can't I?" This time your head nods as you try to suppress a wry little grin. "You are not fair, beloved Master," you whisper. "You know very well that as long as I'm following that marvelously talented cock of yours, I would follow you off the edge of a cliff!" At that we relax and both have fun with me kissing and caressing you while you work quickly to strip off all of my clothes. In just an instant I am as bare as you are. Moving slowly toward the bath with an arm around each other's waist I realize again what an incredible woman you are, Kate. Your body now is utter perfection. And I adore your light overall tan along with your tiny pink nipples that are always so hard... In the bath we find Julia standing in the tub waiting for us. Since the water is up a bit above her waist it features her just-developing little tits. Kate, they are utterly exquisite. As the three of us soak up the water, I watch Julia work on you and adore the way you so gently tease her. Seeing the two of you together is wonderful. She adores you, and even (particularly?) adores your teasing. Gently rubbing an almost-invisible line on her temple she says, "Mommy, that was the luckiest knock on the head I could possibly imagine." With the cutest little grin she added, "It was a very good thing I didn't duck any faster!" I just soaked while I watched Julia work on you, my darling. After she finished and poured a pitcher of clear water over your hair to rinse it, she pinned your hair up and both of you turned toward me. But before you could get started Julia said, "Master, could you do me a great favor?" Suspecting that in some way I was about to be used, I hedged, "Probably, Julia. But it depends on the favor." "Sire," she continued with her eyes wide and her face very serious — convincing me that I was being conned, "Mommy says you have the most gifted mouth and lips she has ever encountered. She says no one can nibble on nipples the way you do..." My eyebrow rose skeptically as she continued, "I'm very young, of course, Master, but at some time or other some guy is going to be kissing my tits. So..." With a brilliant smile she concluded, "... would you please be the first?" Turning to you I almost cracked up! Never have I seen such an expression of innocence on a woman's face as I saw on yours at that instant. Moreover, there was something utterly fascinating up on the ceiling that clearly had captured your entire attention. Turning to Julia, I took her around her waist and seated her on the highest step in the tub that was still under water. First, I kissed her lips and tasted the sweetness, innocence, and purity of them. Moving down on her upper body I let my lips and tongue move across her budding little tits. Julia began to moan as I began to nibble on her tiny pink nipples. Instantly they began to engorge, possibly for the first time ever. I continued to work on her and now was completely preoccupied with what I was doing. So much so that I was unaware of Julia now trying to push me away. As soon as I realized what she was doing, I lifted my head but held her loosely within the circle of my arms. Diving toward me, she buried her face in my neck. I was just barely able to hear her murmur, "Daddy, that was the all-time dumbest idea I have ever had! What am I going to do now? Now I know how delicious it feels to have my titties kissed." Then she pulled back and I saw an incredibly happy grin as she continued, "Oh, well, I guess it's just as well. No guy I'll ever meet will have your skill and sensitivity, anyway!" And you, Katherine, in spite of continuing to focus on that fascinating spot on the ceiling, were unable to control your burst of laughter. Thanks a hell of a lot! ------- It was later in the evening and we were having a marvelously quiet evening at home. You and I were sitting side by side on the sofa while we nursed snifters of Rémy Martin's Louis XIII. I find it wonderful that you have an apparent need to be in contact with me whenever possible. I simply adore your attire this evening: a very simple velvet hostess gown in an emerald green that is an exact match to your eyes. Although the neck laces up, when I asked, you just stuck out the tip of your tongue and pointed out that your tits were plenty big enough and firm enough to maintain the neckline. Some Bach piece is playing quietly while we sort of neck. After our supper of caviar followed by glacéed breast of pheasant with champagne, followed by the cognac, both of us were feeling rather expansive. Meanwhile, Julia sits across from us wearing an utterly luscious gown in pale blue that seems to heighten the brightness of her brilliant blue eyes. I ask you though, darling, how can teenagers get into the contorted positions they do, let alone do it with the unconscious grace and ease that our daughter manages? She sits in an easy chair reading: one of Shakespeare's tragedies, I think. (You know, that guy is going to be quite a writer when he gets going in three centuries or so.) Just as I am about to yawn and suggest we finish our cognac in bed, there is a knock on the door. I smile watching Julia unfold her body with the same sinuous grace and move toward the door, padding barefoot in the deep carpet. Swinging the door open, I see two small children in costume. "Of course!" I realize. "It's Halloween!" Glancing at you I see your eyes flare suggesting that you, too, had forgotten all about it. In a flash you're off the sofa, across the room and down on your knees in front of the two small children: a little boy of about five and his small sister, who appears to be about three. Darling, you are obviously incapable of ignoring small children. I watch amused as you tease and hug the two, fuss over their costumes and even "find" silver pieces all over them. Then, while Julia is on her knees giving the small children candy, you're taking a Polaroid photograph of them. Then, my darling, you so-graciously greet the children's parents, giving them the photograph. The entire family leaves the apartment in a bit of a daze. You realize, darling, you are overwhelming sometimes? On the other hand, you are certainly doing a great deal to keep my crown firmly on my head. You are an utter delight. Does it end? For my love? Don't be silly. After giving orders to the palace guards that any and all trick-or-treaters are to be ushered to the royal apartments, you and Julia take stock and make preparations. In no time the two of you are operating like a well-drilled political campaign team working a crowd. The common denominator? Dozens of small children wander away in a happy daze accompanied by equally bewildered, but very happy, parents. Finally the rush is over. One last little girl is admitted. She is barely four years old and her parents come into the apartment with her, although they will come in no further than the threshold. And you, darling Katherine, tell the little girl how lovely she looks costumed as an angel. She is adorable, reminding me of what I think Julia must have looked like when she was the same age: golden blonde hair with brilliant blue eyes. "You are such a beautiful angel!" you exclaim. "My mommy made my costume for me," the little girl said proudly, spinning so that her short chiffon skirt spins out straight revealing her sturdy little legs and her very cute little pants. "And it is so beautiful, my darling!" you exclaim. At that point the dialog changed. Instead of smiling or grinning, the little girl suddenly turned very solemn. While you knelt in front of her, the little girl looked at you and said, "My Lady, I am wearing an angel costume. But you are a real angel." Stammering a little, she asked diffidently, "Could a real angel give a little girl a kiss?" At that instant, darling, I thought you were going to break down in tears. I could see the brightness of tears in the corners of your eyes. Very softly you replied, "Of course I can, darling." Holding out your arms the little girl ran to you. Holding her gently but tightly you melted your lips to hers and worked to convey the purest love. Darling Katherine, you were so successful you almost caused the little girl to lose consciousness. Meantime, of course, Julia had the camera and took a couple of Polaroids of you with the little girl. And with this one you found several gold pieces in her clothing, behind her ear, in her hair... Then when you greeted the parents, the little girl's mother — the source of the golden hair and blue eyes — said softly, "My Lady, we cannot thank you enough." Then she started to cry and said, "But Angel said it all! You are truly an angel!" If we ever held elections, my darling, you and Julia picked up enough votes that night to carry any election! You are my love! ------- Weeks passed but still there was no sign of the delegation from that strange place, Texass, or whatever. At the same time it was without any question the happiest time of my entire life. Following what I have subsequently learned is an overwhelming determination to be very good at anything I like, you took up downhill skiing. Of course, our daughter, Julia, being from Scandahoovia, was virtually born on skis. Darling, never have I seen a person have as much fun as you do on skis. Even the first few days when you were falling on your face was funny. You just howled with laughter while the powdery snow was all over your face, but you just used your mittens to wipe the snow off while still laughing merrily. We continued to ski and in no time you were moving with the grace and coordination that defines every physical movement you make. Moreover, wearing skin-tight ski pants I teased you about your underwear, pointing out that there was not the least little sign of pants. All you did was laugh. Of course one thing was very much on my mind: How was Katherine going to accommodate her overriding preoccupation: being fucked. But knowing you, darling, I was certain you would think of something. One day last week when we were following Julia as she flew down the trail, I should have suspected something when she took the left trail but you went to the right. The next thing I knew, you had made a hockey stop and skied off the trail into a tiny evergreen thicket. Following carefully I went into the thicket and found that the snow was quite light. My eyes widened when I saw you kicking your boots out of your bindings and tearing low-lying evergreen boughs from the trees. As I came closer you went down on your knees, then lay on your back with your legs spread wide. When I saw the answer, I began to howl with laughter. Reaching down to your crotch, you yanked and your whole crotch opened! You had closed it with Velcro. Seeing your lasciviously exposed cunt, with your pussy dripping in spite of the severe cold, my cock wanted to harden but could not due to the constraint of my tight ski pants. Moving within your reach, though, you grabbed my crotch and pulled. I instantly learned that you had modified the crotch on my pants, too, using Velcro. It pulled away and my cock, throbbing at the sight of your leaking pussy, popped into view. Lying back with your head cradled in your sable-trimmed hood you were utterly gorgeous! Your emerald-green eyes and your auburn hair against the green of your parka and the amber of the sable fur were a picture. Then after running your finger lightly up your slit you brought it to your mouth and licked. All the time your eyes were locked on mine. "Yum," you murmured, then after again running your finger up your sloppy cunt you held it out to me and asked, with your eyes wide with innocence, "would you like a taste, Master? My pussy is particularly sweet this morning." Opening my mouth you put your finger in. But after licking it off — you were right, my darling, you were extremely sweet — I lightly clamped my teeth down on your finger holding it tightly. The shocked expression on your face, my darling Kate, was contradicted by the laughter in your eyes. "My darling master," you said softly, "All I want is just one thrust up my cunt from your steel pipe..." Your eyes widened as you continued. In the meantime I had moved into position and released your finger from my mouth. Continuing, "Possibly two strokes, Master..." Then with the cutest grin I've ever seen you concluded, "three at the very most!" While you spoke you were raising your hips. My cock slid into the tight wet sheath that it adores. Completely ignoring the cold — I don't think either of us were even aware that it was cold — I moved within you. Although neither of us believed your request for only three strokes, I was astonished when you came on my third. Intrigued by the prospect of fucking my beloved in a snowbank, I kept it up and soon had you again in continuous orgasm. Finally, unable to hold back any longer I released jet after jet of my cum into your sheath, now in spasm as you tried to drain every possible drop from my still-heavy sac. For my part I collapsed on top of you while trying to regain my breath. Does my love thank her master for creating such pleasure for her? Katherine? Of course not. While sharing some gentle post-coital kisses and even an after-fuck cigarette, my now-shrunken cock is still resting in your twat. What do you do? You smile warmly, say, "Thank you, Master! That was delicious," take a big handful of snow and shove it into my open crotch! After this vicious attack you leap to your feet, jump into your skis — only now do I realize that they were placed for a quick getaway — and flee down the hill. Since it takes me a few moments to put myself back together, with the snow melting and running down the inside of my pants legs, I set out after you. Although, dear heart, you have learned a great deal, I still have years more experience on skis. And fortunately with your long auburn hair now flowing freely you are very easy to follow. By the time we're near the bottom of the slope I've closed the distance between us to only a few feet. Spotting Julia waiting for us, you ski behind her, do a hockey stop and hide behind her for protection. By now, though, you are howling with laughter. I suppose I must have looked rather funny. Julia had the good sense to say, "Mother, you did it all by yourself. I will thank you to leave me out of this." So saying she moved quickly to the side enabling me to grab you. Although we were at the bottom of the hill with dozens of skiers standing around, the public setting did not slow me for an instant. Yanking you out of your bindings I put you over my knee and proceeded to spank you as hard as I could. The behavior of the bystanders was hilarious. Since we were recognized, no one wanted to look. On the other hand the sight of your gorgeous ass being assaulted was too good to pass up. You howled and screamed and ultimately cried. When I finally stopped you got off my leg and with tears of pain streaming down your cheeks you said, "Big bully! Picking on a helpless girl..." But then you winked and said in the sexiest voice I've ever heard, "Master, do it again later? Please? It will feel so much better spanking my bare bottom." When I took you into my arms and melted my lips to yours, neither of us were aware of the cheers from the onlookers. Julia told us about it later and told how she had acknowledged the cheers of our subjects on our behalf. ------- Several more weeks passed with still no word regarding the expected Texass delegation. It was easy to see, my darling Katherine, that you are becoming increasingly apprehensive. (It's interesting, I just realized, that I am referring to you with increasing frequency as Katherine, while over the same time you increasingly refer to yourself as Kate. It appears that each of us is trying to please the other.) But with no word, the winter moved along. Actually, my darling, what I think we did was to some degree retreat inward on ourselves. It has now gotten to the point where the three of us spend a great deal of time in the apartment and appear in the Great Hall on fewer occasions. In spite of what my darling says, you and our daughter have become accomplished gourmet chefs. And frankly I have come utterly to adore the near-constant teasing that goes on between the two of you, accompanied by numerous pinches, tickles and lots of giggles. Of course the fact that the two of you — the three of us — are usually naked adds to my enjoyment. My darling, it appears we are acting like a family, I am delighted to say. Moreover, a family all of whose members truly love the others. Very honestly, never in my entire life have I had so much fun nor been so happy. Near midday early last week a courier raced into the palace courtyard riding a winded, very hard-ridden gelding. Racing to the throne room, he dropped to his knee and announced that King Gustav of Scandahoovia had entered the kingdom with his party and was making his way toward the castle. As usual, my darling, you arranged to be in the corner unobtrusively listening to the news. Before the messenger was even able to regain his feet, you had fled. After making arrangements for the man to be fed and his mount cared for, I returned to the apartment. I found what I had expected to see: you were beginning to prepare Julia for the meeting with her grandfather. When I suggested sending for the ladies in waiting, you merely snorted and said that you were quite capable of preparing your beloved daughter by yourself, thank you very much. I watched as you proceeded to do just that. It included a full sauna, a soak in a perfume-laden tub of water — with you floating beside her — and an intensive massage. My darling, I watched as you firmly but gently worked great quantities of musk oil into our daughter's body. When, as a result of your ministrations Julia fell asleep on the massage table, you carefully covered her with a cashmere blanket, dimmed the lights and let her sleep. I don't know how you do it, Katherine, but you always do. Julia awakened with perfect timing. While you let her sleep, you allowed me to give you the same massage you had given her, although, to be honest, I spent far more time on your pussy than you did on Julia's. Some of the time, of course, consisted in trying your cunt on my cock for size. That took a considerable amount of time, I recall, as we debated whether my cock had enlarged, your cunt had shrunk, or there had been some combination of the two conditions, because clearly, in spite of being sopping wet, it was very tight. We agreed — as we seldom do — that it was far tighter than usual. Perhaps the most enjoyable part of the afternoon was the incredible fragrance released as a result of all the musk oil your body had absorbed coupled with the sweating from your constant orgasm. My darling, your body releases the most exquisite fragrance that exists in the whole world! Just remember, all musk oil does is enhance natural odors. Your fragrance, my love, is beyond compare. When she sat in front of the dressing table, you began to work on Julia's hair. My darling, it was utterly glorious. Never will I forget how proud our young daughter looked as she admired what you had down with her golden hair. She was sitting with her back up straight and her shoulders back the way you had taught her. Her still-immature tits were standing up proudly. After slipping silk stockings up her slender legs and carefully smoothing them out, you positioned two garters with a wink that was returned by Julia with a grin. "This is enough, isn't it, mother?" she asked wide eyed. "I like it, too. The blue of the garters compliments the blue of my eyes." Frowning, you shook your head slowly and said, "I don't know, Julia. I have this very strong felling that something is missing..." With a quick grin and a wink, you again feigned a thoughtful look and murmured, "I'm sure if I think on it carefully, something will come to me..." For my part, my darling, I regret being unable to maintain a straight face. When I started rolling on the floor laughing, you two took advantage of my weakened condition and started to tickle me. Which reminds me, Slave!, I have not exacted retribution for that yet — from either of you! At any rate you went off and returned with the most magnificent gown I have ever seen. After slipping a bikini on her loins you positioned a gorgeous white gown trimmed with ermine. Since you had arranged Julia's hair with pearls up off her head, you attached lovely pearl ear studs and then fastened a triple strand of pearls around her neck. The tiniest bit of lip rouge to brighten her naturally red lips completed preparations. Then, with her lower lip trembling, our daughter stood before me and asked, "Dad, do... do I look... all right?" Frowning, I ordered her to stand fast. Slowly I walked around her without saying a thing. However, I was keeping a close eye on her because I did not want her to begin to cry. Finally I returned to my original spot and stood before her. In my most judicial tone I announced, "Julia, you look... all right..." I could see her eyes start to moisten before I continued, "... for an angel fresh on earth from heaven! My darling daughter, you look divine!" With that Julia beamed the most joyous smile I have ever seen at me, threw her arms around my neck and melted her lips to mine. It was a kiss of pure love and innocence. Kate, I cannot tell a lie. I pinched our daughter's ass. Really, I did. And do you know what our daughter's reaction was? She whispered, "Daddy, I can't tell you how happy I am to find that I have a pinchable ass. Did you like it? Is it in Mommy's league?" So much, dear heart, for the innocence of youth! ------- With your usual impeccable timing, my darling slave, no sooner had you made the last microscopic adjustments in Julia's costume looking, while you did, like the doting mother you truly have become, than we heard the blare of trumpets from the castle parapets announcing the arrival of King Gustav. Making our way to the throne room, we stood on the dais awaiting our distinguished visitor. I was wearing a very subdued tunic of dark purple velvet, essentially unadorned, along with my hose. Of course, my darling Katherine, do I get any respect from you? Hah! While I'm preparing to welcome our visitors you have the temerity to pinch my ass and whisper, "Darling, you're so cute!" Glancing at you, I see your lips silently forming the words, "Sex object!" followed by the most lascivious wink I have ever seen. Woman, how can I maintain a properly serious mien when you do things like that? Good grief! I would have threatened you with punishment later but I couldn't think of any threat that would not have evoked from you the reaction, "Promise? Please, Master, you wouldn't be teasing me, would you?" followed by another lascivious wink. At any rate, the great doors at the end of the throne room were opened by pages. My trumpeters, now down from the parapets, marched in and formed two ranks flanking the entrance. While I'm composing my face, you, bitch, insisted on continuing to pinch my ass! But anyway, the musicians did us proud. As the visiting king appeared in the entry way, they blew a magnificent trumpet fanfare. Then with flourishes, they put the horns of their straight trumpets to their hips, standing at parade rest. With a happy nod the visitor marched down the red carpet towards my throne. While I'm waiting for our distinguished visitor, do you leave me alone? Of course not! I hear your parade-ground whisper, "Where in hell did this other throne come from?" The fact is, my darling, I had not even noticed it. However, it was clear that the chamberlain — still awaiting your apology, by the way — was ahead of both of us. I had spoken of making you my wife and my queen. Evidently he spoke to the palace cabinet maker — whose child you nursed, I learned — and instantly the man began work. The result was visible out of the corner of my eye. While it was slightly smaller in all dimensions than my own, your throne is a golden masterpiece. In design, grace, and workmanship, it reduces mine to the level of a crude bench. Overriding everything else, my darling, is that the throne my cabinetmaker produced for you is a tangible expression of his love for you and his gratitude for what you have done for his family. Now, how, dear Katherine, can I adequately punish you when it seems you have personally and directly helped at least half of the entire population of my kingdom!? At any rate, King Gustav made his way to the front of the room where we were waiting for him on the dais. After making his obeisance towards the two of us he stood up and I could see his eyes widen. Clearly he had just gotten his first good look at Julia. Turning my head in the direction he was looking, I could not have been more proud. Our daughter was standing there in as regal a pose as I could imagine. At the same time I felt you take my hand and squeeze it. Obviously you were looking at her, too, and were delighted by the vision. Turning back toward the visiting king, we saw his arms spread wide while tears started to flow down his cheeks. "My beloved Julia!" he exclaimed. Our daughter ran to him, hugged him, and melted her lips to his. Only then did I realize that already she was taller than her grandfather. Moreover, it was apparent that the power of her kiss almost knocked him over. They eased apart and the white-haired gentleman just held Julia by her upper arms and studied her. While he looked at her, I looked at the king. About five feet six inches tall, he was white-haired, ruddy complected, and compactly built. Clearly in his youth he must have been a very formidable fighting man in the Viking tradition, albeit lacking their oft-imagined giant stature. Taking Julia by the arm he approached me with his hand outstretched. "How do you do, Your Majesty," Gustav said. "This is an indescribable pleasure for me. And of course there are no words for me to describe my happiness at having my granddaughter — my beloved daughter's daughter — restored to me!" "Granddad," Julia said softly, "I cannot tell you how happy I am now that I have had the opportunity to kiss you and express the enormous love for you that I feel... but I have not been restored to you." Holding her head up she continued, "I am the Queen's personal body slave. I am not free to leave." "But, darling," you exclaimed "of course you are!" At that point, my lovely Katherine, I can't tell you how proud I felt as you told the king how Julia had been sold into slavery, but then worked her way up to be one of my handmaidens. You did not mention clobbering Julia with your chain, but you were certainly eloquent as you described Julia's myriad accomplishments, all most appropriate for a princess and, very possibly, heir presumptive to the Scandahoovian throne. When you ended your description, Julia did not allow her grandfather to speak. Instead she said, "Sire, there are no words for me to describe my feelings toward my sainted mother. If you can imagine, that lovely woman, my mother, volunteered to be mutilated so as to protect me. Even now, years later, I remember having my head resting where one of her tits had so recently been. The weight of my head must have been agonizing. But she quietly fed me pieces of her grilled breast while her legs were spread wide to welcome countless men. I can remember seeing blood flowing from her loins in a steady stream." Tears were flowing freely down Julia's cheeks as she finished. But then she threw her shoulders back and held her head up high as she continued, "Notwithstanding, Grandfather, I love my new family at least as much. And that is in full realization of the incredible sacrifice my mother made to protect me. But you, see, Sire, the King and Queen are my new father and mother. I live — as a slave, to be sure — in their apartment. I share their bed and assist in their lovemaking. But, Sire, I wallow in a degree of love I never knew could exist on this earth. The love my king and queen share for each other is the most beautiful thing imaginable. I cannot give it up." With brilliant blue sparks flying from her eyes she concluded, "I will not give it up. If you take me back with you, Sire, I shall brand my body so no man would ever have me. I will mutilate my sex organs so I will be incapable of giving pleasure to any man. And, Sire, somehow or other, I will make my way back here... to my home and family!" Poor King Gustav was nonplused. Having come to rescue his granddaughter he finds her living in slavery, but a slavery she will make any personal sacrifice to maintain. While he slowly shook his head, I could see tears start to form on his cheeks. Again Julia went to him, took him in her arms and comforted him, assuring him that she loved him dearly. Then she very gently led him out of the throne room in the direction of the Great Hall which was set up for a welcoming banquet. Turning to you, beloved Katherine, I whisper, "Well, my darling, what now?" and wink. Then glaring at you I repeat, "And as for you, young lady, you will be punished later for your impudence! Imagine pinching your lord and master! And in the throne room, yet!" And you, wench? Do you beg my pardon? Do you drop to your knees and plead for forgiveness? My Katherine? Your response: "I can hardly wait, Master. It has been so long that, as easily as I bruise, my buns are now unmarked. I so enjoy having them bruised to remind me of your love whenever I sit down." And with that you had the gall to wink! Perhaps I will have to use that bullwhip after all... My darling Katherine, I really do not know what to do with you! Except that I will make you my queen. Aside from everything else, you are a nonpareil consort, in truth. Moving towards the great hall I feel your hand, as light as a hummingbird's touch, on my elbow. Then you so easily and smoothly greet our guests regardless of their station. I think, dear heart, it is what I love most about you. But at some point — perhaps after your punishment tonight? — you must tell me about your background. And King Gustav? My darling, you and Julia working together on the poor man was grossly unfair. There you are, seated to my left, with Gustav on my right and Julia sitting opposite him. Suffice it to say the outcome of the evening reminded me of a line, "She told him to go to hell, and he was honored to receive her gracious invitation." That, dear Katherine, is exactly what you and Julia did. It was terrible! There the two of you are with the most melodious voices soothing and comforting the poor man. But, at any rate, tomorrow he will be returning to Scandahoovia utterly delighted that his granddaughter is going to be able to continue to serve as your personal body slave. Finally retiring to the apartment — you and Julia had gone on ahead while I had a final nightcap with our guest — I find the two of you standing before me naked and apprehensive. Naked, I understand. Apprehensive, I did not. Turning to you, Katherine, I order, "Slave, your slave — our daughter — was inexcusably defiant today. What do you propose to do about it?" "Would a hard spanking be sufficient, Master?" you ask softly with your eyes wide. Damn it, woman, how do you always do this to me? I am mad enough to chew nails and then you tease me, lure me, kiss me, or do something so I end up as Silly Putty. It's just not fair! "But, yes, Katherine. You may spank our daughter." At that you sat down on a straight chair and our daughter lay across your leg. I must say, you did not spare the girl. You gave her ten of the hardest spanks imaginable on just her right cheek — she was over your right leg facing left — and then ordered her to lay across the other leg. When she did you spanked her left cheek. My darling Kate, I could see tears streaming down her cheeks when she changed positions but she never said a word. Then when it was over, we both started to cry. Our darling Julia opened her mouth to apologize to the two of us and blood started to stream from it. The poor kid had nearly bitten through her lip to keep from crying out. I rushed out for ice while you cradled her in your arms. The ending? How else? Julia thanking you for the love for her that you had demonstrated by punishing her and then by cradling her in your arms. Finally she rejoiced in the black and blue marks that were sure to appear on her ass. Then Julia stroked your body all over while I tried to fuck you to death. ------- Chapter 6 The bedroom is quiet, dark. The curtains are still open and soft winter moonlight spills across the floor. The sheets and blankets have been kicked off the bed in a tangled heap. In a miracle of near-biblical proportions, you and I are not screwing anymore — finished for the moment. I am seated between your legs, reclining against your chest. I feel your hands in my hair, stroking it, rolling it between your fingers. We are — incredibly — just talking. To be more specific, I am talking at your request, one you may live to regret. Your request: "Tell me everything you remember." "Not anything before a couple of years ago. My first memory is of being blindfolded and bound. I was on horseback, riding in front of someone. It was hot; very hot, it seemed. I later realized the heat was not from the weather. It was the result of a fever brought on by an infected gash on my head. In any event, I drifted in and out of consciousness. I don't know for how long... many days. I have flashes of memory. I hear voices, men. Much of what they say is jumbled in my head but some things make sense to me: 'You shouldn't have hit her so hard, ' 'It's no problem. Just look at her. She'll sell in a heartbeat, ' 'If she dies, we get nothing, ' 'Make her drink, ' 'We can't stop. We can't take her back to Texass. We'll all be killed.' "Perhaps it was a benevolent God that sent the fever. I'm sure if I had total recall I would be insane. I don't know how many men there were: five or six, maybe. I remember a sense of motion: a sea voyage. I remember some things very vividly. There are times when it's quiet and I am alone that I still I can still feel their fingers on me, smell the stench of them. I remember pain, and rape, and screaming. No details, mercifully. Just impressions and hatred. "Time passed. The first recollections I have of day-to-day living were in a house of some sort. Very small: only a single room. There was a woman who cared for me. She fed me, bathed me, nursed me. I was sick and weak for a long time. There was just one man here. He never entered the house, but stood outside always, guarding the door which was kept locked from the outside. The only reason I knew of him at all was that the woman cooked for all of us and I'd see him when plates were passed out the door to him. The woman was deaf. It drove me to the brink, having no one to talk to, not being able to learn a thing about where I was or, more importantly, who I was. "After a few weeks I felt stronger. One day, a different man came to the house. He was quite good-looking and for a minute I just stared at him. He came in, sat down, and told me the facts of life: One, I was a slave. Two, he had a potential buyer for me. Three, one wrong move and I'd be dead. He said the last in such a soft, cold voice that I believed him. Then he asked, 'What's your name?' "'Katherine, ' I replied automatically. I have no idea whether that is really my name or not." ------- Julia had joined us in bed. Kate, that girl reads minds! First, of course, she remade the bed and joined us. You moved so you were curled up spoon-fashion against my body with your luscious buns trying to swallow my cock. Julia climbed in and backed against you so you were sandwiched between the two people who love you the most of anyone in the world. I could feel you take a deep breath and relax. When you twisted your head, I melted my lips to yours in a kiss of the purest love. Fortunately, our passion was satiated for a while. Breaking our kiss, Julia's face was turned toward you, waiting. The sighs from both of you when your kiss dissolved was lovely. After wriggling your body to get fully comfortable, you whispered, "Thank you both so very much. This makes it easier for me to speak of my humiliation." Julia reached up and turned out the light, leaving us bathed in the moonlight shining in the window. You continued your tale. ------- "We were to leave the next morning. I spent that night thinking, planning. I couldn't just bolt. I knew I had to wait, play the game, see what the next move was going to be, and where I would end up. I slept, prepared now for anything, or so I thought. In the morning, my hands were bound. I rode in front of the man to the outskirts of a town, and then up to the front of a large house. I was pulled from the horse and led up the front steps. "A woman was waiting there, a tiny thing, five feet tall and about as wide. The first words that came to mind on seeing her were nouveau riche. Too much jewelry, too much perfume, wearing a dress that was the most hideous shade of lavender and so covered with ruffles and flounces the poor thing looked like she was drowning in them. "'Well, what do you think?' the man asked. "She frowned and said in a soft voice, 'I don't know about her, Gilbert. Too pretty by half. I just don't know.' "At this point, Gilbert turned on his charm. 'Oh, Miss Leila, she doesn't hold a candle to your radiance. Why, a lady of your breeding, charm, and beauty has no reason to be worried about the presence of a lowly slave in her house. No one will even notice her with you about.' He favored her with a dazzling smile. Miss Leila giggled and blushed. The whole thing was one of the most nauseating scenes I have ever witnessed. I fully expected Gilbert to leave a trail of slime behind him wherever he went. 'The girl is a steal at the price I'm asking. She's healthy, has a very subservient disposition, and is fully trained as a lady's maid.' "At this string of lies and ironies — a steal? More like stolen! — I began to cough to cover the laughter welling in me. Then Gilbert's hand moved behind me and I could feel a knife in my back. He apparently had one hidden in his sleeve. My coughing suddenly stopped. "Miss Leila batted her lashes at him. 'Well, all right. If you think she'll work out, I'll give her a try. I want a guarantee, though.' "'Of course she is guaranteed. Have I ever steered you wrong? Trust me. She'll be a wonderful addition to your household.' The knife dug into my back a bit harder. I was seething, but wisely refrained from speaking. "Miss Leila moved to the front door and Gilbert followed with me in tow. God help me, the inside of the house! How can I do justice to the tackiness of it? If I described the details of it, you wouldn't believe me. Let's just say that a black velvet painting of Elvis would have lent the place some class. "After the transaction was completed, Gilbert left after a last meaningful look at me. I said nothing, too stunned by my surroundings to make a sound. Miss Leila motioned for me to follow her. We moved up the stairs to a door which she swung open to reveal a bedroom. My first impression was of red. After blinking a bit, I realized that all of the furniture was gold, much of it covered in malevolent scarlet: the bedcovers, the sofa and chairs, the vanity bench. The walls were papered in red with a gold pattern of fleur de lis, and the curtains and carpets were the same shade of red. I was sure I had died and gone straight to hell. What sin I had committed to deserve this fate I didn't want to consider. "Miss Leila turned to me and misinterpreted the expression on my face. She smiled broadly and said, 'It is a most magnificent room, isn't it?' "The only thing I could think of to say that would keep me from making trouble for myself was, 'It is stunning, madame!' That answer seemed to satisfy her. "She showed me to a small room off of this one. It was mercifully stark. A uniform was laid across the bed. 'Put that on. I am expecting company, so be quick about it. My hair needs your attention and you must help me change into something more elaborate, ' "I nearly choked at that last statement. I crossed to the bed and picked up the uniform. It wouldn't have been so bad except that, as was Miss Leila's style, it had lace ruffles on the cap, collar, and cuffs. The apron was the most useless confection I have ever seen, all gauze and lace. My first action was to start ripping these silly attachments off the clothes. "Miss Leila heard the tearing and came running. 'What are you doing? Do you know how much I paid for that?' She then proceeded to tell me exactly how much. "I responded, 'I will not wear that as it is. Absolutely not. If you want to look like a ten-year-old's birthday cake, you have at it. I will not.' "She was clearly at a loss, then a light came into her eyes. 'Fine, miss, don't wear it. However, you should know that you will not wear anything else. It's that or nothing.' "I was beginning to see that Miss Leila was an impossibly stupid woman and not much at dealing with slaves. 'That is perfectly acceptable, madame.' With that reply, I stripped off the rags I was wearing and stood before her stark naked. Her mouth fell open and she stared at me as I brushed past her to the wardrobe. I threw open the doors and turned to her. 'Did you have something in mind to wear this evening, madame?' She nodded mutely and pointed. I pulled out what she indicated, helped her to change, and sat her at the vanity to begin work on her hair. "I could see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to think of something to make me come to heel. I don't think striking me even crossed her mind, not that it would have changed anything if she had. I was nearly finished when I saw the light in her eye again. 'You will accompany me downstairs this evening. You must attend to my needs at all times and I feel that I will require your assistance quite a lot tonight.' "I shrugged, and replied, 'As you wish, madame, ' She seemed at bit put out by my answer as she clearly expected I would prefer to be dressed before her guests. She miscalculated. "A knock came at the bedroom door and a voice announced that the guests had arrived. We descended the stairs and crossed to the dining room where the guests had assembled. Miss Leila stood in the wide doorway for a moment to let the group drink in her radiance while I stood just behind her to the left in full view of everyone. Although I had guessed that naked slaves were not all that unusual, the contrast between Miss Leila and my naked body had the desired effect. My ego received a major stroke when the gathering became completely silent, staring. Miss Leila, of course, thought this homage was for her and began to preen like a peacock. I smiled to myself. Mission accomplished. "The evening passed and was generally uneventful, save for a few hearty pinches on my tits and ass and an occasional intimate caress of my pussy. But it was a small price to pay. The subsequent weeks passed in much the same fashion. Miss Leila suddenly found that her invitations were very much in demand, particularly from the gentlemen. "It took quite some time before she figured out that it wasn't her charm and good taste that was causing this popularity. When she finally did put two and two together, she was absolutely livid at my surreptitious humiliation of her. She banished me to the kitchen. My parting shot to her in a voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm, 'And this is how you thank me? After all I've done for you?' I followed up with a very wicked laugh. "I should have known this victory was going to cost me dearly, and it did. I now fell under the supervision of Maurice, the chef, a man of some cooking talent and even more eating talent. The man was of a rather impressive size. We did not get on well, to put it mildly. My mouth got me into trouble every minute of the day, it seemed. It was very hard for me to resist jabbing that fat, pompous ass whenever the opportunity presented itself which was surprisingly often. In the end I screwed myself royally. I'd had about all I could take, when one afternoon Maurice began to criticize me for some minor infraction. His timing could not have been worse, as I was sitting at a table-size cutting board julienne-slicing carrots with a rather large knife. "I exploded and began to stalk him about the kitchen brandishing the knife. At the end of my ranting and raving I stabbed the knife hard into the cutting board for emphasis. That was my first mistake. I drove it in so forcefully I couldn't get it free, and I found that my position as stalker quickly became that of stalkee. After cornering me, he grabbed my hair and began slapping me viciously across the face, palm to my left cheek, backhanding me on the right, again and again. "I started out clawing and scratching in defense, but before long my head was spinning. I stopped all offensive action and concentrated on protecting myself. He let me go and I dropped to the floor in a heap. "He stood over me for a couple of minutes saying something I don't recall. Gloating, I suspect. Then he turned away from me. "I was about to make my second mistake. I had gathered my wits together enough so that when he started to walk away, I stood up and pulled a cast-iron frying pan from a hook on the wall beside me. I came up behind Maurice and let him have it in the back of the head. It made a dull thud on contact and Maurice collapsed in a heap unconscious. I checked and found that he was still breathing and still had a pulse. "When I looked up, I found a servant standing over me with a club. 'Miss Leila is calling Gilbert. You! Back up against the wall and don't move until he gets here.' "In the intervening time, I had ample opportunity to contemplate how seriously I had screwed up this time. If I had not done my damnedest to push Miss Leila's buttons, if I had not let my temper run out of control with Maurice, everything would have been different. I would have been alive if not happy. "I sat there naked on the kitchen floor, quietly with my back to the kitchen wall, resting my chin on my knees, playing with the end of my single braid. By my lack of self-restraint, I had signed my own death warrant. I had absolutely no doubt that Gilbert would kill me. I suppose it is normal to think back on one's life at moments like this. However, as I scanned my memory I found that I had very little to reminisce about. No childhood memories of Christmases or bedtime stories, no first love, no triumphs... nothing. Perhaps the saddest part for me was the knowledge that all of my memories involved misery and failure. "Gilbert arrived. I didn't move from my place on the floor. He walked over to me and stood a second, just looking at me with an unfathomable expression. Again I was struck by his looks, dark and beautiful, if it's possible for a man to be that. He indicated that I should hold out my hands which I did, and he bound them tightly before me. I had already decided that I was going to keep my bearings on this, no bribe attempts or blubbering. If he was planning to kill me, I would maintain a little dignity in going. He pulled me up and out the kitchen door to where his mount waited. He sat me before him and we started off, to where I had no idea. All of this was accomplished in silence. "After a few minutes, I heard him whisper in my ear, 'Your face is a mess. It's a pity really, ' I had not even thought about it until he mentioned it, but now I put my fingers to my cheeks, wincing a bit as I felt the swelling. I can imagine how I must have looked. Several more minutes passed before he continued, his voice low and melodic, 'Why, Katherine? I warned you and you didn't listen. Now you have left me with no choice. An example must be made of you. I can't have transactions turn out this way. It's very bad for my reputation. You understand?' "His voice was so smooth, so gentle, I felt almost hypnotized by it and my body began to relax against his. He controlled the reins with one hand, while his other came around to cup my tit, his fingers lightly teasing my nipple which hardened almost immediately. He laughed softly and murmured, 'Ah, Katherine, it really is a shame.' My eyes closed and I allowed the sensations caused by his voice and hand to take over me. At least I had this, I thought, this awareness of my own sexuality before I died. "He pulled the horse to a stop and I opened my eyes. We were in a town, at what seemed to be the central square. Gilbert slid out of the saddle and lifted me down. I found myself facing him, his lips not an inch from mine. 'I wish this were not necessary, ' he whispered, 'but you have left me no alternative.' "With that, I felt his lips brush mine in the lightest of kisses. I remained silent. He turned and led me to a tall post in the middle of the square. People were bustling about their daily tasks, but some noticed Gilbert and me and stopped, standing about here and there. "I was confused. What the hell is going on? I thought to myself. Oh, well, I suppose he plans to kill me here. Make an example of me, as he said earlier. To be honest, I didn't care. I didn't stop to think about what the post had to do with anything. "Facing the post, my hands were tied above my head. I relaxed against it, my mind wandering to some other place, preparing to die, making my last private confession of my sins to God, asking his forgiveness and praying for redemption. I heard a hiss in the air, then a crack as a whip struck my body. I felt the snaking of it down my back. I snapped back into reality. I had not seen the whip and the first lash came as a total shock. "At the beginning I felt nothing, and I thought, 'That ought to hurt. Why doesn't it?' It started as a sting and built over a course of seconds to a line of fire. The second lash fell. Again, nothing then the burning, seeming more intense this time. The third time, I hissed an indrawn breath, refusing to make a sound. Again and again the whip bit into the skin of my back and ass. The tears began to flow and I took my lower lip in my teeth, biting down hard, holding back the screams building inside me. More... so many more. The pain had become like an inferno, consuming me. "I don't know how many times the lash fell on me before the first scream ripped from my throat. It went on for a long time unintelligibly, then it turned into words. Words begging him to stop, pleading for him to slit my throat, to please kill me now, my promises to do anything, be anything, say anything, if only he would stop. He didn't. The whipping continued endlessly, it seemed. I could feel the blood running down my back and legs, the agony as new lashes fell across previous ones. Just before I lost consciousness, it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. "I felt the ropes loosen at my hands. My legs wouldn't support me and I collapsed at the base of the post, shaking and sobbing. I heard Gilbert's whisper in my ear, 'I stopped. Haven't you anything to say, Katherine?' "Trembling and unsteady, I heard my own voice, my instinct taking over, knowing what he wanted to hear, 'Thank you. I was wrong. Very bad. It won't happen again.' "No, he hadn't killed me, but for the first and only time in my life I experienced a complete and total humiliation, an absolute loss of dignity and control. Nothing of that scope or magnitude has ever happened to me before or since." ------- As I finished, Master, I could feel your cock probing at my ass. Did the story of my whipping turn you on? But then Julia wriggled her ass against my mound and her voice came to me in the moonlit room, "If this was the worst humiliation, what about the dogs? How could anything be more humiliating than that?" I laughed softly. "Trust me, darling. That was a walk in the park by comparison. I was locked up with the dogs because there was still something in me that wouldn't bend, wouldn't break. I still had something of myself. At the end with Gilbert, I had nothing. I was empty. It took a very long time before that changed, and I found something still in me that was vibrant and alive. I never thought I'd have that again, but it came back, slowly. And now? My darlings, snuggling between you two, my dearest loves, is the only thing that permits me to tell this tale." I smiled in the darkened room, kissed Julia gently, and continued, "No, love, the dogs weren't even close. But I digress..." ------- "I remember very little of how I ended up at Edmund's tavern, The Sign of the Golden Bear. I might have arrived there five minutes or five days after the whipping, I don't know. The only thing that does stand out for me was staring at the cracks in the floorboards of the tavern and hearing Gilbert's voice saying to Edmund, 'As you can see, you must beat her regularly and often. She can be very difficult. But I'm sure you can handle her.' "With that last statement, he turned to me, took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him. I studied his face, looked into his eyes, committing every detail to memory. 'You know the score, Katherine, ' he whispered. 'Don't make me return, ' I said nothing, merely nodded slightly. He handed Edmund the end of the rope that was tied around my neck, smiled at me, then left. It was the last time I ever saw him. "Edmund led me up the stairs to a small room. The furnishings consisted of a pallet on the floor, a battered chest, and a dilapidated washstand with a chipped pitcher and bowl. He untied the ropes at my neck and hands. After dealing a sharp slap to my cheek, he said, 'Get dressed. Your clothes are in the chest. Don't wear the nice dress, wear the other. You have three minutes. Come down when you're done.' "He left me. I opened the chest and found two dresses inside. One looked like a drab, dirty gray sack, the other was flaming red, with a neckline that started below the breasts and with the hem pulled up to the waist in both front and back. I was at a loss and my time was running out. Which of these was 'not the nice one?' I decided on the gray. I chose correctly, but not quickly enough. "My first beating at Edmund's hands came when I reached the bottom of the stairs. 'You're late, ' he explained. 'When I give you instructions, I want them obeyed. I gave you three minutes. It took you five, ' With that, he pushed me face down on a table, lifted my skirt, and began applying heavy strokes with a riding crop to my ass, unhealed as it was from my whipping from Gilbert. The pain was intense, but having been down the road to hell once, this was more like a primrose path by comparison. "When he was done, he shoved me down to the floor and called out loudly to his wife, Hortense. She came in and I was put to work under her direction. For the next several months, all of my work was done in the early mornings and afternoons, when the tavern was either closed or had very few patrons. I scrubbed floors, washed dishes and clothes, peeled vegetables, worked in the garden in back. I was whipped, beaten, or slapped at the slightest (or no) provocation by either Edmund or his Hortense. "I found out that Edmund didn't allow his slaves to cook, as he'd had a bad experience in the past. As a result the slaves weren't allowed around cutlery. However, the woman, Ellie, who was the cook, might as well have been a slave. She was the sole support of her large family, and Edmund paid her nearly nothing. She was trapped there by Edmund's threats that if she left him, he'd see to it that she'd never work anywhere else. She could easily have been a palace chef as her cooking was sublime, but Edmund was well connected in the town and could have made good on his threat. "I first began to come around to myself again because of her. She always arrived in mid-afternoon and was so gentle, loving, and encouraging that I started actually to look forward to each new day, in spite of the endless abuse, just for the chance to chat a few minutes with her. "I had been with Edmund for a long time before I first worked in the tavern with customers. One day he told me to change into the other dress. I cringed inwardly at the thought, but did as I was instructed. The dress was even worse than I expected once I got it on. My tits were pushed up and out, and the front and back were hiked up to my waist, exposing my pussy and ass. When I came back down, he introduced me to Susan. I had seen her and Martha before, but I had never spoken to them since they worked while I slept and vice versa. 'She'll teach you everything you need to know. I'll be watching you, Katherine. Don't forget that!' "That first night was the strangest experience I have ever had. Susan rouged my nipples, and admonished me to be silent and observe. I followed her about as she hustled drinks, served dinner, laughed and joked with the regulars, and was fondled regularly and often by all and sundry. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw her accept the first tip, the coins being slid into her cunt by the customer, who favored her with a lecherous wink. She smiled back at him, and continued on with her routine as if this were the most normal thing in the world. "I asked her later that evening how she could be so blasé about all this. She told me her story, about how at age seventeen she had sold herself into slavery to help her family pay their taxes. She had been doing this for so long, it didn't seem unusual to her anymore. At the end of the night, she relaxed her pussy muscles and the coins began to fall out. She then ran her finger inside her cunt, removed that last few, and turned them all over to Edmund. I couldn't believe it. After we adjourned upstairs, I asked why she had done that. "She said, 'Edmund demands it. He checks from time to time to be sure I gave him all of the tips. If I hold out on him, he'll beat me half to death.' She smiled a small smile. 'But there are ways of getting around him.' "She motioned for me to follow her to her room and showed me a small bag that she had hidden under a loose floor board. It jingled as she pulled it out. 'See, love, when Edmund sets up a trick for you, the trick pays Edmund directly.' "'Whoa! Wait a minute. What's a trick?' "She explained that both she and Martha prostituted themselves whenever Edmund could set them up with a customer. This was getting worse by the minute, I thought to myself. She continued, 'Edmund doesn't know that the johns almost always tip us, and we stash the money away. When I have a reasonable amount, my boyfriend delivers it to my family.' "'Okay, hold it. You have a boyfriend?' "She smiled again. 'I love him very much. He plans to buy me from Edmund. But every time he gets enough money together, Edmund raises my price.' "I was absolutely stunned by what she was telling me. I knew I had to get away from here. I couldn't live my whole life like this. I returned to my room to think about how to escape. But escape to where? I had no family to go to, no friends to ask for assistance. The knowledge that Martha had given me answered all my questions. I would just bide my time, gather my tips as she did, then bolt in the night. I was certain I'd be able to find work and if I ran far enough, no one would recognize me. I knew the punishment for runaway slaves was public execution, but I didn't care. Death would be better than wasting my life here for Edmund's profit. "Susan and Martha became my friends. Unable — or, knowing myself, unwilling — to control my tongue, I was beaten daily. But as bad as it was, it would have been far worse had the two girls not repeatedly taken the blame for things I did. When I asked Martha, she blushed and said I was beaten enough as it was. "We helped each other in other ways. Because our bodies were constantly lacerated with infection being a constant threat, I suggested something I vaguely remember learning from somewhere: There are antiseptic properties in human saliva. The result was that every day we would take turns licking each other's wounds. "I started working on my own after a few days. Susan taught me well. I was soon making more money for Edmund than he thought possible. I had at least one trick every night. That was very difficult for me at first. I equated sex with rape because those were the only fleeting glimpses I had in my memory. I was lucky, though. Most of the men were not animals — although some of them smelled heavily of the barnyard — and once I learned a few things, getting them off usually took very little effort on my part. It was like a routine: lick their cocks awhile, offer them my pussy or my ass in a sexy voice, moan like I loved every minute of it, and before long they'd be cuming gallons and saying I was the best thing since nickel beer and night baseball. "There was one other bit of sadism that Edmund practiced. Each week he would take one of us — Martha, Susan, or me — out back. There, in addition to the whipping post, there was also a whipping frame. The girl selected would be spreadeagled on the frame with her arms outstretched and her hands above her head while her legs were also stretched wide apart as well. We would be suspended there for several hours in the afternoon. At a price of so much per stroke, patrons could whip us to their hearts' content. "It was my misfortune to be on the frame when two men, just paid out of the Navy, appeared. They prided themselves on their skill with a whip. Evidently they made some deal with Edmund, because they did not count the strokes. They would have competitions to see if they could hit only my nipple, or lay sets of stripes on by back or chest exactly one inch apart. I was screaming uncontrollably after a while, suffering the worst beating since Gilbert had nearly killed me. The ultimate, though, came when they stood behind and wrapped the whip up and back into my clit. At that I completely lost control." I paused but then continued, "That was the first time a woman ever went down on me. Later, when I had been taken down, Susan and Martha took turns eating my cunt to try to control the terrible bleeding. Both suffered beatings that day, too, for spending so much time nursing me. "I learned things in the tavern as well, things I thought might help me when I left. I found out about the surrounding area, nearby towns, how far it was to the ocean, what the terrain was like. I learned how to be charming and flirtatious, and how to laugh at even the stupidest jokes and make my laughter seem genuine. I learned how to play cards, and more importantly, by observing closely I learned how to cheat at cards. This last I got very good at, since I practiced on Martha and Susan every chance I got. I didn't know if I'd ever need that skill but it seemed to me that being slick at cards could certainly come in handy if my funds started to run low." ------- "And it is such a blast to do, Mom," Julia piped up. "Learning it was so much fun, and now I..." I pinch her lightly and hiss, "Not now, Julia." Too late, I can feel you prop yourself up on one elbow and look down at me. "So you've taught her to cheat at cards, have you?" There is an ominous rumble in your voice. "Well, just a few things. How to deal from the bottom of the deck, how to hold out a card, how to count, how to..." "No, no, don't tell me anymore. Pray tell, who has she been cheating lately?" "'Cheat' is such an ugly word, Master. Think of it as my having taught her how to win with mathematically improbable regularity." "More like impossible regularity. You didn't answer my question, Katherine." "Kate, Master. Only on me... and sometimes you." I go on in a rush. "But only occasionally and she never took any money from you and she really has a talent for it. I know the tricks and she'd never improve if she only did it with me. She had to practice on someone and it doesn't help if the someone knows what she's doing. Even you have to admit she is very good. You never even suspected you were being had by the kid..." (Bad choice of words on my part.) "Silence, Slave." I hear a sigh from you, the kind that says, "I give up. What am I going to do with you?" "Whatever you see fit, Master." I roll over to face you and kiss you lightly, my tongue touching your lips, my fingers weaving into your hair. "I submit to you in all things." Your laugh echoes through the room, and I mockingly pout at the sound. "Are you insinuating, Master, that I am less than perfectly and utterly devoted to pleasing you at all times?" "No, Katherine, not at all. However, I find that unless I am very specific, you always get around me on a technicality, or more often, what passes in your mind for logic. You, dear heart, are an expert at following the letter of the law while flouting its meaning. I didn't specify that you should not teach Julia to 'win' at cards, so you did. Now I am telling you that you will have no more students in this little parlor-game class of yours. Is that clear enough?" "Well, Master, yes it is. But I can't unteach the others who have already picked up a few things." Trying to keep my face as bland as possible I added, "But they're really not terribly significant, anyway..." "Others?" For some reason this word sounds a bit strangled as it came from your lips, Master, and I wondered why. "How many others?" you gasp. "Oh, only a few of the other ladies," I answer evasively. "That just sort of... happened. I'll stop all such instruction immediately, Master." But then I continued, "Besides, it's only fair. After all, it's all your fault, anyway. You know far more about women than any man should, so we're just getting even a little..." After a silent moment, even in the dim moonlight I can see you smile. Taking me in your arms, I feel your cock again in a raging erection. My body automatically responds to yours, my nipples hardening, my clit beginning to throb slightly. I reach for you, my lips seeking yours with the passion already welling up in me. But after a gentle kiss you roll me over again. In a completely benign and noncommittal way, you say, "Continue with your story, Katherine. Maybe when you're done..." "What? Oh, Master, you must be joking. We want to fuck now. Why are we waiting?" "That's another thing, my darling," you reply. "I sincerely hope you will learn to control your tongue... just a little bit! You might have started a war! There you are talking with the ambassador from the court of that raving lunatic, Ludwig of Bavaria. "Around here, darling, the story of your arrival at the palace is well known, but do we need to advertise it to the whole world? I mean..." I see you shake your head sadly while valiantly trying to maintain a straight face and continue, "... when he asked how I controlled you, did you really have to tell him, 'Oh, it was easy. My master just fucked me into submission.' Darling, I was afraid he was going to swallow his teeth!" In the moonlight I see a warm smile on your face as you continue, "Didn't you just reiterate how devoted you are to pleasing me?" I now see where this is going. "It would please me if you finish the story. Now." There is a smug note in your voice. Oh, you are most exasperating, Master. I wiggle my hips, seat your cock in the crack of my ass, and for good measure lightly massage it, tightening and releasing my cheeks around your shaft lest you forget what you're missing. I pull Julia's body tightly against my mound and, after mumbling something about this becoming a very short story, I proceed. "Anyway, things continued in much the same manner. My little cache of money grew steadily. I planned to make my getaway in the very near future, but of course, the plan, like most of mine, got screwed up. I don't know why this outcome surprised me. I awakened one afternoon to the sound of Edmund yelling downstairs. I don't know what infraction Ellie had committed, but I heard Edmund say to her very clearly, 'You're fired!' She begged and pleaded with him, told him her family would starve if he did this, with her tears choking her as she groveled and promised to do absolutely anything to save her family. He laughed at her and told her that if she didn't pick up her personal effects and leave immediately, he would call the watch. "My heart ached for her as I heard her sobbing uncontrollably while she gathered her things. She had been so good and kind to everyone, but most especially to me. I felt helpless, knowing that all she had told Edmund was true: her family truly faced death from starvation. Then I thought of my money. I pulled it from its hiding place and went to the small window of my room. I knew she would have to pass it as she left. It wasn't much, but maybe this small gesture would pay her back a bit for all she had done for me. I would just start again; put my plans on hold for a while. "When she appeared, I called out to her softly and she looked up. I tossed the pouch down to her. Her eyes widened as she caught it, feeling the weight of the money inside. 'But how?' she asked sotto voce. "'Not important, ' I replied, 'just go.' I smiled and waved to her. Turning back into the room, I came face to face with Hortense standing in the doorway. My stomach plunged. The look on her face said everything. She had witnessed most or all of my exchange with Ellie. "You can guess Edmund and Hortense's punishment for this: Beaten by both of them, tied to the whipping frame for endless hours as the lash cut and bloodied me from head to toe, given to the customers to fuck free of charge, with as many taking me at one time as could be arranged. I don't want to remember how often I was taking three, and even more, at one time. For days my body was covered with blood and cum. This hell went on for more than a week; how much more I'm not sure. I was in a daze. I saw Susan and Martha occasionally. They would sneak out to give me water, to lick my wounds as often as they could, to cry in sympathy. For this they were brutally beaten again and again. "The end finally came as a result of a lie I told. Edmund asked me where I had gotten the money. I couldn't tell him the truth without betraying my friends. I told him I stole from the tricks, but in small amounts that they wouldn't notice. He bought the story but made plans on the spot to sell me at auction, saying that if word ever got out that I had cheated his customers, his business would suffer. I wasn't worth that risk. "He waited a few days, letting the worst of my wounds heal a bit so I wouldn't look quite so bad and would fetch a better price for him. I had ideas of my own about that. "The morning of the weekly slave auction, the innkeeper and his wife cleaned me up before tying my hands in front of me while securing a rope around my neck. Their last bit of cruelty was in not allowing me to see Martha or Susan before I left. Edmund led me naked through the streets to the auction house. I wore nothing aside from the ropes that bound me. The auction house resembled a large barn, which was crammed so full of people, we were barely able to get in. "After waiting a short time and seeing several other young women sold into slavery, the auctioneer called to Edmund and we made our way through the throng to the auction block. I ascended the few steps and stood there glaring at the assembled crowd. The auctioneer began exhorting the buyers to come and see the goods for sale up close: me. "Initially, I stood up straight with my tits upthrust and my cunt and ass featured by pelvic movements. I found myself mauled, pinched, and caressed all over my body by countless hands. Then, while the prospective buyers were starting to slobber over my beauty, I made my move. The idiot Edmund had given me just enough time in those few previous days to recover a bit of my strength and then made the foolish mistake of tying my hands in front of me. I lashed out, striking with doubled fists, scratching, kicking, and biting at anyone within reach. "Given my physical state at the time, in short order I found myself pulled down to the floor and trussed up like a chicken. However, I had accomplished my objective as Edmund received only a scant few coins from the sale. My parting shot was to hurt him where it hurt him the most: in his wallet. After all, who wants to own a slave with such rotten disposition? I smiled to myself as Edmund walked away grumbling. I should have known, as with most of my 'victories, ' the triumph would be short lived. "Since no one was willing to untie me, I found myself carried from the auction house by my new owner, Horace. If Edmund could be classified an idiot, then Horace fell somewhere down the food chain into the ranks of knuckle-dragging-mouth-breathers. A large hairy man with a blank look in his eye, Horace defined Neanderthal. He carried me over his shoulder the entire way to his farm, while never even breaking a sweat. Once we arrived, he dumped me on the floor of the farmhouse and told me in words of two syllables or less that, among other things, he had bought me to work as a farm animal, to pull his plow and his cart, and so forth. "I roared with laughter, much to Horace's consternation. I explained to him that such an idea made about as much sense as the Clinton health plan. "He favored me with a vacant stare. Seeing the problem, I used very small words to illustrate that this would not work and that he'd be much better off with a large draft horse: already broken to plow, physically far stronger than I was and more capable of accomplishing the task, requiring less maintenance, and delivering more production. He was silent for a moment and then said, with what I suppose was for him perfect logic, 'But horses can't cook, can they?' "The joke was on him this time because I couldn't cook then, either. I ruined every meal and nearly burned the house to the ground on a couple of occasions. In spite of his slowness, Horace rapidly concluded that it was too dangerous to leave me alone in the kitchen around fire. This caused him to redouble his efforts to make me pull his plow. I flatly refused. He beat me viciously and repeatedly in a vain attempt to bring me to heel. Seeing that he was making no progress and was in fact making me less capable of doing the work he desired, Horace decided to try an alternative method of negative reinforcement. "He decided to house me in the kennel with his dogs. They were his pride and joy: beautiful Irish Setters. A bit high strung, but very nice dogs in fairness. He pampered them, fed them steak, and loved them like children. His certainty that a few days in the kennel with no food, little shelter and plenty of fleas would bring me around to his way of thinking demonstrates his lack of knowledge about me. "Time passed. I made nice with the dogs and became quite skillful at snatching up all the food that was tossed into the kennel. While raw meat is not my favorite food, in fairness Horace provided good beef: my daily steak tartare, if you will. What I didn't eat myself, I portioned out to the dogs as treats throughout the day. Taking these meager offerings from my hand became the highlight of their day, earning me much wagging, licking and submissive whining in an attempt to curry my favor. "For my part, in addition to the tiny scraps of meat, I would stroke them as well, evoking what was almost a canine purr. After a couple of weeks, the animals looked a bit scraggly and I, aside from being filthy, seemed not too much the worse for wear. Although Horace did not know what I was doing, he couldn't let his poor babies suffer my company any longer. Knowing he had run out of options, he decided to cut his losses and divest himself of me. The rest of the story you know. "And that's the end of it." I wiggle my ass against your cock to remind you of your obligation to me. "Well?" I hear a stifled yawn and feel you roll over. "Good story, Katherine. Go to sleep now." "What? But, Master, you said that when I finished the story that..." "Maybe. But I've decided not to fuck you." "Master, you must be kidding. I want you. I want you to fuck me. I need you. How am I supposed to go to sleep when I feel like this?" Your soft laugh flows out. "Try counting cards. Pleasant dreams, my love." ------- There was only one small problem at that point, Katherine. My cock had been imprisoned between the cheeks of your so-talented ass. After waiting as long as I could to make you suffer — I wanted it to be at least fifteen minutes, but I'm confident it was at least fifteen seconds — I whisper, "On your knees, Slave! I want you to relax your asshole for me." Thinking Julia was asleep, I instantly learn differently. "You're going to take Mom in her ass? How neat! Golly, Dad, you haven't done that in a long time." Looking at you in the moonlight I see our daughter, thought to be sleeping, wide awake and grinning lasciviously. "Mommy, how would it be if I crawl under you and drink at your source. And, if you would like, my little pussy would be right under your mouth, so if you would really like... I'm really awfully sweet tonight, Mom. I just checked." On your knees I moved between your legs. Now since you and Julia are the same height you matched like Yin and Yang. In an instant I had penetrated your relaxed asshole and was driving inside your wetness. As usual, the sensation was utterly glorious. My raging cock felt like it was held by a tight rubber band yet moving in a beautifully slick sheath. Moving with long slow strokes I feel your breathing come faster. While I'm driving into your ass, Julia is eating your pussy while you feast on hers. With so much stimulation, in no time you cum, then again, then again. The sounds of you and our daughter together take me to the peak of sexual excitement. The two of you are cuming continuously now — Darling, she's only fourteen! — and the sounds from your bodies are unreal. Finally I can hold back no longer and release in a seemingly-endless series of jettings. At that, darling Katherine, you collapse and I collapse on top of you. Moments later, our daughter wiggles out from under the pile. With her golden hair now in wet strings from your cuntal juices and her face wet but glowing with excitement, "Parents, that was incredibly neat! When can we do it again?" I kiss your wet face and lick off some of Julia's juices. Indeed she is very sweet tonight. In each others' arms now we break out in laughter. ------- Chapter 7 We are now into December with Christmas approaching. One morning after our good-morning fuck your head is resting on my shoulder, one of my hands is cupping your perfect tit while we share an after-fuck cigarette. While I hold you close I can feel you wriggle your body and make the loveliest collection of satiated noises I have ever heard. Your eyes are nearly closed as apparently you are relishing the sensations as your body slowly returns to normal. While lying beside you I reflect on our life together. For example, our morning lovemaking no longer even disturbs Julia. Now that she's a full-fledged teenager all she does is open one eye as I start to take you — she seems to keep track of how many times I enter you in various positions — grins, and goes back to sleep. As I reflect, I see her filling tits slowly rising and falling while she sleeps. But, my darling, the remarkable thing is our life together. Sharing my bed with two lovely women is a delight. Sharing my apartment with the same lovelies is an experience, one I would not give up for the world! First, I guess I have to disagree with those who say women are messy, particularly in the bathroom. Perhaps it's because you two are so often nude and when dressed do not use the array of undergarments designed to present a body that is at substantial variance from its basic structure. With you, my darling Katherine, as beautiful as you are dressed, you just become progressively more beautiful as you shed your clothing. Second, I suppose we're fortunate to have a bath larger than many reception halls. Each morning we stumble out of bed and into the bathroom. It's funny because it really doesn't seem to matter who wants to do what. Typically I will find myself in the shower and you or Julia or both of you will join me. Then we take turns with me using a very soft washcloth on your bodies while you use the bar soap against my hairy body to lather me. I guess, darling Kate, that you go down on my cock, I eat your pussy or both, at least three days out of four. It's a good thing that the kingdom essentially runs itself because it seems to take us at least ninety minutes to get out of the bathroom. Of course, the latest addition, the barber chair, doesn't help. I guess it started when I asked if I could shave your pussy. You agreed with a grin on the condition that you could shave me. The result has been that the three of us shave each other. Darling, if others could see us with Julia they would howl with laughter, seek to have us committed as child molesters, or both! There we both were on our knees while Julia had her legs spread wide. The three of us were debating how best to develop her pubic patch into a small but dense golden patch right above her slit. If I recall, we finally settled on trimming it with scissors while carefully shaving all around it. Of course with her golden hair Julia does not have a great deal of body hair, nor do you. And I have become very capable at shaving a woman's legs, too. I haven't nicked you in weeks. For that matter, the two of you give me the most perfect shaves day after day. What I most enjoy, of course, is how you test the finished shave for closeness: by running your so-sensitive tit against my cheek to see if it can feel any remaining stubble. And, of course, now you're even cutting my hair... Finally, there are your bodies. Katherine, you and Julia are incredible. What you may not know is that I am working out with increasing seriousness. I feel I must, because I overhear you talking with Julia about how you could improve some tiny facet of your appearance the least little bit. What is so humbling, my darling, is that the vast amount of your effort required to effect a change, compared to the tiny amount of improvement, does not seem to enter into the calculation. The fact that you might exert herculean effort for a most-marginal change seems irrelevant to you. The only criterion is, "Will I look better in my master's eyes?" It is terribly humbling. On the other hand, recently I have felt you running your fingers lightly over my chest and shoulder muscles and making very warm, happy sounds deep in your body. Maybe I am doing something right. As Christmas drew closer, I found that we were spending more time in the village. That, too, was an experience. If there is a soul there who you do not know — and likely already helped — I have yet to meet him or her. My darling, as their ruler I have always been greeted with great deference. But, along with a number of my people, I always thought that many of the villagers looked on me as a goose to be plucked. But now? Good heavens! In every case, my darling Katherine, you are greeted with love and reverence. The very finest things are brought out for you — and often offered to you as gifts. The people utterly worship you, my darling. And their children? It is unbelievable. You are a female Pied Piper! They follow you around and you are so good with them and to them. You play with them, tease them... love them. And always there is something special — often a piece of silver you find in an ear, a hairdo... And the most-heard sound is the silvery laughter of small children. It is truly a lovely sound, but particularly so at the holiday season when you do so much to ensure their merry Christmas. But then, my darling, there was the day at The Sign of the Golden Bear. I didn't realize at the time, my darling, that it was in this tavern that you were enslaved. Reflecting back on it, I can't remember how we came to enter in the first place. At the time I thought the idea was mine, but in light of what happened subsequently, I'm not at all sure. I thought it was because it had been a long day, you had been on your feet for hours, and the thought of sipping a hot mulled cider by the hearth sounded good. Since it was only four o'clock, the establishment was almost deserted. Two of my young troopers were seated in the corner looking very unhappy for some reason. I seated you by the fire as two serving wenches approached. Looking up you smiled warmly and greeted them. "Hi, Susan. Hi, Martha. You're both looking well." The two young women were dressed identically. They wore bodices that ended below their nipples but which served to force their tits up and out. Their nipples had been rouged. Their skirts were hiked up in the center almost to their navels, fully exposing their pussies. After placing our order, the girls went to fill it and you said, "Master, could we please help these girls? They, too, are slaves in this establishment. I said they are looking well. However, Sire, I can tell by the way they move somewhat stiffly that they have recently been whipped. I am sure that their backs and bellies are covered with still-bleeding welts." Continuing, you pointed out that the unhappy-looking troopers were the girls' boyfriends. Reaching for my purse I gave you two small sacks of gold. Without opening them — you heard the characteristic clink of gold and judged the value by weight — you grinned and whispered, "I owe you, yet again, beloved Master." Then you asked me to watch carefully. When the girls came back with our drinks you asked them again about the conditions of their servitude. In each case the girl's family had sold her into slavery to raise money. But fortunately, the money in the pouches was more than sufficient for the need. Katherine, you tied the drawstrings carefully and held a pouch out. The first girl, Susan, moved over it, maneuvered her crotch and took the pouch into her cunt. Martha then did the same thing. "Girls," you said softly, "that's enough to purchase your freedom and to provide you with very nice dowries. I do so hope you will use the money for that." Then with a beaming smile you added, "And a very merry Christmas to you both!" At that point, my darling, both girls dropped to their knees in front of you and began to bawl. Reaching out, you managed to enfold them both in your arms and just let them cry. Finally, Martha lifted her head and with tears still streaming down her cheeks asked, "But, why, Milady? We are cheap whores!" "No, darling Martha, you are not. You have been brutally mistreated and forced to prostitute your bodies, but your hearts are still pure. Honey, that's why those guys love you and want you, in spite of what you've been. Understand?" Then with a grin you added, "Do me a favor? The two girls replied in unison, "Of course, Milady! Anything!" "Go pay off your indenture and tell the owner that the king and his lady require more service. His wife, serving us naked, would be appropriate." Very shrewdly you added, "She is the one who whipped you two this morning, isn't she?" "Yes, Milady." the girls replied softly. "Hmm..." Turning to me you asked, "My darling master, would you not like to be served by a bar maid with still-bleeding whip cuts on her back and breasts? I think it would be delicious!" Then to the girls you said, "Martha, why don't you give Hortense ten across her back, while you, Susan, give her ten across her pendulous tits." Obviously elated, the two girls disappeared towards the rear of the establishment. To me you said softly, "I'm sorry, my darling, but I couldn't resist. This is, in a very small way, payback time for a great deal of humiliation and pain I have suffered." Even from where we were seated we could hear the crack of a whip and a muffled scream coming from behind the inn. You whispered that Hortense had probably been gagged to muffle her screams somewhat. After hearing twenty distinct whip cracks — both of us were counting carefully — the two girls, Martha and Susan, reappeared in rags. Jumping to your feet, you intercepted the girls and led them out the front door while making a vague motion to me in the direction of the two young troopers. Darling, your nonverbal communication lacks a certain je ne sais quoi, but nonetheless... I motioned to the men who, after a good deal of pointing and facial gestures, finally concluded that, indeed, I did want them to join me. As soon as they came over, a naked woman appeared from the rear of the establishment. Clearly, judging by the still-bleeding whip cuts across her body, this was Hortense. I gave her an order and then turned to the troopers. Darling, you would have howled with laughter... No! You most assuredly would not! Rather, my darling, in no more than two sentences you would have had the two relaxed and smiling. Would that I knew your secret! At any rate, both were brown haired and brown eyed and were members of my elite mounted infantry regiment. Both were very well built and over six feet tall. The slightly taller one introduced himself as Trooper Cooper, and his partner as Trooper Hodges. Cooper was Martha's boyfriend while Hodges loved Susan. I really felt sorry for the two as they sat beside the cheery fire... at attention! They were, after all, in the presence of their sovereign! And without you, my darling, I was hopeless. Had it not been so uncomfortable for everyone, it would have been very funny, indeed. Here these two troopers, who on my command would charge hell with fire extinguishers, were petrified with fear. Clearly they would have loved to run, not walk, to the nearest exit, but that was an impossible choice given that I had asked them to join me. As the mistress reappeared occasionally to refill our cups it was clear that she was puzzled. She certainly knew who I was and knew who Cooper and Hodges were. She had not laid eyes on you but had noticed that Martha and Susan were missing, as well. Finally, after what seemed to have been hours, but which, in honesty, my darling was likely forty-five minutes or so, you reappeared. Accompanying you were two of the loveliest young ladies I had ever seen. As you escorted them over, the three of us rose to our feet. With the warmest smile I have ever seen, my darling, you said, "John Cooper, I would like you to meet your fiancée, Martha Robinson." Cooper's jaw dropped: Martha was now a ravishing beauty. "Don't just stand there, John," you continued. "Aren't you going to kiss her?" Moving as if in a daze Cooper took the girl in his arms and the two melted their lips together. Katherine, if we could have harnessed the energy those two released they could have powered the castle and the town for a month! Then you repeated the process with Sam Hodges and Susan Bradley. While the two couples were lost in each other's arms you said, "My darling, I just helped a little. Those girls have been brutally beaten but they are really wonderful young women. Do you mind?" All I could do was to shake my head. Now the two couples were sitting on benches flanking the fireplace. The men had their arms around their girls and the girls were trying to wriggle their bodies as close to the men as they could get. All four appeared overcome with happiness. Finally, John Cooper blurted out, "But, Milady, why? Why would a royal princess help us?" "Because, John," you replied softly, "Martha and Susan are my friends. When I was enslaved here they took care of me. I was whipped daily and was always a bleeding wreck. I had — and still have — an uncontrolled tongue. Both of these women repeatedly took the blame for things I had done because they did not think I could survive any more beatings. Since they might have been correct, I just tried to help them a little bit." At that point the innkeeper's wife reappeared. She did not know what to do. Being naked in the presence of three men was one thing but to be naked before three exquisitely-dressed ladies was something very different. As she very diffidently came near, you said, "Don't be bashful, Hortense! You certainly know Susan and Martha, having beaten them often enough. And I'll bet you even remember me. Katherine?" With that you rose and threw back the hood of your cloak letting your incredible auburn hair flow free. The woman's eyes widened and then she started to glare. "You escaped! I'll call the watch..." "She is a princess royal and is soon to be your queen!" I interrupted. "And I have learned about treatment of slaves far beyond the normal requirements of good order and discipline. Moreover, in addition to physically torturing them, you have required them to prostitute their bodies to generate additional revenue..." Turning to you I continued, "My darling, what do you think would be appropriate?" "I think that requiring her to serve all comers to the tavern until Twelfth Night the way she now appears would be appropriate, Sire," you replied with a wink. "And so be it!" I exclaimed. "It is so ordered." With that you gave money to the two young women who held up one small coin at a time, each of which was taken into the fat woman's sloppy cunt. A small thing but they enjoyed it. Particularly, the girls delighted in making Hortense repeat her movements with her cunt to pick up a coin "properly"! And then? Then, my darling Katherine, you invited the foursome back to the castle where we hosted their betrothal dinner. At the end of the evening there were four more people who worshiped the ground you walk on. ------- Chapter 8 "Katherine!" I bellowed as I stormed into the apartment. Furious, I slammed the door behind me. "Yes, Master," you replied softly from almost beside me. Looking down I see you kneeling in the classic submissive pose. Your knees are spread almost straight out to the sides opening your slit wide and fully revealing your now-throbbing clit. With your hands behind your neck and your elbows thrown back, your luscious tits are up and your nipples are visibly throbbing. "Request permission to look up at your face, Master?" you continued with your eyes downcast. Katherine, what is wrong with me? I come in with fire coming from my eyes. You say just a few words and I forget everything. Particularly I just forgot why I was mad. "Of course you may look, my darling Katherine." Looking into my face now — but while still holding your position — you grin and say, "My name is Kate, Master. You know that. I am your slave and sex toy. You are my beloved master." Then your eyes widen and you ask, "Might my master be interested in a light snack?" That was another change. Where formerly I used to eat at least three huge meals a day, now we had breakfast or brunch, perhaps a small snack or tea, then a late dinner. And, my beloved slave, I also find out that you are training the kitchen staff. Heaven only knows the quality of food being served is light-years better than it ever was in history. And, by the way, I learned this from my lord chamberlain, who reported that you did apologize to him. But does my darling let it go with an apology? My Katherine? Don't be silly. My Katherine has to take his face lightly between her hands, tip it and then melt her lips to his. He told me that, first, he almost lost consciousness because of the power of your kiss, but second, he is almost at the point of reconsidering his sexual orientation! What did you do to the poor man? Oh! And if I failed to mention it, he adores you, my love. But a snack? The idea sounded interesting. "I think a snack is an excellent idea. What now?" "Permission to rise, Master?" you asked softly. Slowly shaking my head I replied, "Of course, my darling." Then I added, "Aren't you finished with the playacting yet?" At that you just quickly shook your head, stuck out the tip of your tongue, and led the way to our small dining table. There on the table was a large domed silver cover but it was impossible to see what, if anything, it covered. Sitting in front of the cover was a side chair. My armchair had disappeared. Before I could say a word, though, your fingers were busy and in no time I was as bare as you. And, of course, my cock was rigid due to its proximity to your cunt, it's favorite sheath. "Seat yourself, please, Milord," you said softly. As soon as I did you sat across my lap and easily fitted my throbbing erection into your pussy. With just a few little wiggles you had taken all of it in that our relative positions permitted. Then, although I expected you to begin to move your body on mine, instead you began to work your internal muscles. My eyes involuntarily began to close as your cunt began to massage my cock. But then I opened them again when you removed the silver cover revealing an iced caviar service. While still massaging my cock you open a chilling bottle of Dom Pérignon and poured a flute for me. (You know, that Dom Pérignon stuff is really great! Or will be when they get around to making it in a few hundred years.) After giving it to me you wait for me to have a sip. When I do and nod, you pour your own and then fill my glass. Then taking a tiny saucer, my love holds it under her left tit. Then with the greatest care you ladle caviar followed by all the trimmings to your erect and throbbing nipple. "Caviar Sur Kate's Nipple, Milord," you announce. "I so hope it meets with your approval." I continue to eat as you alternated nipples arranging the caviar on each one in turn. My darling, you even squeezed lemon juice on your nipples which I suspect must have stung badly. But did you make a face? Let on that it might be causing you some pain? My darling? Hah! But then I asked why you were fucking yourself at the same time you were feeding me the caviar, you grinned and replied, "But Master, that is a part of the secret! Your cock inside me is what keeps my nipples so hard!" Before I could respond, the front door was flung open and our daughter enters the apartment. I don't think the door had even fully closed when she was out of her clothes and as bare as we were. "Hi, parents!" she greeted us breezily. "What's up, Mom?" Then seeing our position answered her own question. "Oh, I guess it's Dad's cock and it's up your twat. Feel good?" Since by now you were close to cuming, you could only gasp, "What an all-galaxy dumb question that is!" Then when the sensation passed you asked, "Would you like some caviar from my tit, darling?" Julia grinned and nodded. Turning toward her you fixed a nipple for her which she delicately cleaned off with her teeth. When you asked if she wanted more, she just shook her head and said she had come back for lunch. She was going to make herself a peanut-butter sandwich. And you rolled your eyes, then crossed them saying, "So much for Julia and her gourmet tastes!" Then you winked, grinned, and went back to fucking yourself. When I could hold out no longer — and when there was no more caviar — I released in spurts into your luscious cunt. At that point you relaxed and rested your head against my shoulder as I held you tightly. Darling, I can't tell you how wonderful it feels to just hold you close and smell the indescribable sweetness of your body. Only then did I remember why I had been angry. Of course, having nearly drained my sac into your body I could no longer even raise my voice. "Darling, why were you and Julia naked down in the Great Hall this morning?" "We were only trimming the Christmas tree, darling," you responded. Your voice was muffled, of course, because your face was in my shoulder. "But why were you naked?" I persisted. "Because I can't climb a rope wearing my gown, Master, and you do not allow me underwear..." "So my beloved Katherine and our daughter are acrobats? Could no one else have climbed?" "Of course, darling," you replied in your most-reasonable tone of voice. "But it's just that they have their artistic judgment in their feet! They would not have placed the decorations in the proper places." Then you raised your head and asked, "Master, could you carry me to bed? Wouldn't a nap be really neat right now?" What could I say? In moments we were in bed and in each other's arms. ------- Chapter 9 It was early evening on Christmas eve. You, my luscious wench, along with our daughter, had spent a quiet afternoon with me as we prepared each other's bodies for the evening's festivities. While I knew the gift I was giving you, my darling Katherine, I had no idea what you might be giving me. Finally, although it was only four in the afternoon, it was so close to the winter solstice that it was already starting to get dark. Going out on the balcony overlooking the courtyard where the giant Christmas tree was standing, I could not have been more proud. You standing at my right so proudly wearing your hunter-green velvet gown with its matching sable-lined cloak. With the hood down on your shoulders, your auburn hair gleamed in the lights above us. Then our daughter, wearing a duplicate outfit in Christmas-red standing to my left, a precise one-half pace behind us. As we stood waiting, a wave of cheering erupted from the crowd gathered in the courtyard below awaiting the tree lighting. I am certain, my darling, that it was your appearance that caused it, too. This was confirmed when I stepped up to the microphone and began to speak. "My people: welcome, and merry Christmas! We are gathered here, late this afternoon, for what has now become a tradition: the lighting of the palace tree. While normally, as your sovereign, I would perform the task, today I will not. "Rather, I am going to ask my companion, Crown Princess Katherine of the Kingdom of Texass, to light it for us. But first," I continued, now turning to face you, "I am asking you, dearest Katherine, to marry me and serve all of these people as their queen! Darling, will you marry me?" At that there was pandemonium in the courtyard with the cheering continuing unabated for minutes. It was so loud I worried about the old stone walls being undermined by the sonic waves! Does my darling give me a simple answer? You? Hah! Instead you moved the microphone stand in front of you and adjusted its height, effortlessly, as usual. Then with your arms out, palms down, it was as if you turned down the volume. Now what? I wondered. "Fellow citizens," you said softly, "thank you for your very warm welcome. Although a stranger in this kingdom, I cannot tell you how warmly I have been treated by you all. My Lord has just proposed marriage to me. I suppose I must accept." At your words the cheering exploded again while you turned toward me. Reaching into my pocket I retrieved a perfect three-carat diamond solitaire and slipped it on the third finger of your left hand. While the crowd continued to cheer, I took you in my arms and again melted my lips to yours. Darling, I could feel the warmth of your glorious body as you tried to mold it to mine. In spite of the bells from our kiss ringing in my ears, I could hear the cheering reach thunderous levels as the people seem to rejoice in our kiss. Easing out of our embrace, you very cutely kissed the tip of my nose, momentarily sticking out the tiniest tip of your tongue, and then turned back to the mike. After quiet is almost instantaneously restored — the people are hanging on your every word — you continue, "I suppose an explanation is in order. I said a moment ago that I must accept my lord's proposal of marriage. Why? Because, as his body slave, I have no choice. I may only do what he allows me to do and since I am and have for months been his personal slave, there is no other choice. "How did this come to be? How did I become his slave? The answer to that question is easy. I came into his possession having been swapped for a pair of dog licenses. That, my dear friends, is an approximation of my value to my liège lord: about twelve bucks." At that revelation there was a hushed silence. Clearly the crowd didn't know if you are serious or not, and, if serious, how they should react. But you continue, "I have come to know many of you over the last weeks, as has our daughter, Princess Julia." I stepped back as you reached for Julia's hand, drawing her to the mike. "As most of you know, I'm sure, this is our daughter, Crown Princess Julia, heir presumptive to the throne. In addition, we have recently learned that she is heir apparent to the throne of the Kingdom of Scandahoovia, as well." Grinning out at the crowd you ask rhetorically, "Sounds impressive, doesn't it?" Hearing sounds of agreement from the crowd you nod and say, "Sure does!" But then you shook your head and said, "But what garbage! Let's look at it this way: I have already established that I am worth about twelve bucks. Julia is my body slave. As my property, of course, her value is incorporated into mine. Now if the two of us together are worth only twelve dollars, what do you suppose she's worth alone? A buck and a half? That makes the throne of Scandahoovia worth about a buck." At this the crowd broke up into howls of laughter as you, my darling slave, became a very skilled comedienne with a perfect sense of comic timing. Continuing, you say, "I said before that many of you have gotten to know Julia and me. It's no wonder... ! When we are forced to go around naked all the time, particularly in the fall, and now in winter, it's cold! Since we feel we must force ourselves on you — purely in the interests of warming our feet, our tits, and our buns, I assure you — we needed some excuse. Our excuse? We're doing good!" Again a pregnant pause. Then, "Doing good? Garbage! We're just trying to thaw out!" This time there was an even louder burst of laughter. "But there was a side effect," you added. "Because I was doing the Lady Godiva bit, I thought about the story and used it. You see, Lady Godiva was the wife of the Earl of Coventry. She pleaded with her husband to lower the taxes on his people. After thinking about it for a while, the Earl agreed on the condition that Lady Godiva ride naked through the town. She did and he did. Coventry's taxes were reduced." Now the crowd was silent. Clearly they had no idea where your story was taking you. But you continued, "This is a very expensive castle to maintain, as I'm sure you know. Moreover, I am not the least expensive queen to maintain, either. But I have finally explained to my lord and master that there is a difference between tax collections and tax rates. Our rates have been too high. Now they are being cut — effective today — by 75 percent! This is our Christmas present to our people." There was a stunned silence for a moment and then a stentorian voice shouts, "Three cheers for Queen Katherine! Three cheers for our gracious queen! Hip, hip..." The shouted, "Hooray!" almost took off the corner of the castle. So help me, I would swear I could feel our balcony rock. Does my darling just bask in her adulation? Hah! Instead she takes the opportunity to light the tree. It was utterly gorgeous! The most magnificent looking tree we have ever had at the castle. The same voice in the crowd then asks for a cheer for Princess Julia. In light of all of the people she has helped, the cheers for her are every bit as heartfelt as those for you had been. Finally, things quiet down and you continue, "You see, our kingdom has been losing badly because our tax rates have been so high. The only way to raise money to pay taxes has been to sell many of our young women into slavery. This created a problem, however, by creating a terrible shortage of women of marriageable age. As a result we maintain an army far larger than what we need, purely to maintain discipline over the large numbers of young men who no longer have beautiful girls to marry and civilize them. And, of course, our army is expensive, requiring a great deal of tax money to support them, and... So it goes." Now the crowd was standing in stunned silence. Just then there was the unmistakable sound of the castle gates being opened. We could hear the clatter and creak of the drawbridge being lowered and the portcullis being raised. Then six burly soldiers manhandled the castle gates open. Moments later a detachment of mounted infantry ride in, followed by two horse-drawn carts and finally by the balance of the troops. As the carts were drawn up in the courtyard we can see that there were about a dozen women who looked tired and filthy standing in them. Shouting into the mike you say, "Please welcome the first group of our women who are being restored to us. I have prevailed on my lord and master to buy the freedom of as many of our girls as we can and bring them back home. These are the first. Please welcome them back and wish them a merry Christmas!" There are cheers from everyone as the troopers dismount and gently help the women down from the carts. From my vantage point I can feel tears gathering in my eyes as the young men treat the girls as ladies for the first time in years. One girl just breaks down and begins to cry with her face buried in the chest of a tall trooper. The trooper, in turn, is nonplused. Turning, I find that you and Julia have disappeared. That, my darling, comes as no surprise at all. Turning back toward the courtyard I see the young women being whisked away through one of the palace's side doors. Meanwhile the musicians had begun to play their concert of Christmas music as jugglers, tumblers, and clowns appear to entertain the crowd. Making my way down to the courtyard I find, to no surprise at all, that the people were in the happiest, most joyful mood I have ever seen. To my surprise and great pleasure people came up with hands extended to congratulate me on my good fortune in gaining your hand in marriage and to thank me for the tax reduction. Darling, again you were right and I was wrong. Darling Katherine, I have only one question: What am I doing for a living? Between you and our daughter, you're doing it all! Never have I had so much fun as I did on Christmas Eve. The joy being felt by everyone was both wondrous and contagious, and the liberation of the young women from their slavery and their return home seems to be the icing on the cake. Just then the trumpeters — undoubtedly responding to your orders, my love — blew a fanfare. Troopers cleared a pathway from a side door of the palace to a low rostrum set up near the orchestra. Going to the microphone you began to introduce the young women and the young troopers with whom you had paired them. While just minutes earlier they had looked bedraggled and half-dead, now they are vibrant and beautiful. Katherine, Julia, and the handmaidens strike again! One after the other, you introduce the young women and give a brief description of the conditions of their slavery. Finally there are only two left. "I would like to introduce Ann Bradley," you say, "along with William Bradley, Jr., aged two. Three years ago, Ann, a virgin, was engaged to marry Bill Bradley. My future husband's tax gatherers had been overly aggressive that year. The result was that Ann's parents were required to sell her into slavery to get enough money to save their home. However, the night before this lovely girl was to be sold, she stood alone, naked and in chains, on the slave block, Bill managed to come to her and take her virginity. He managed to impregnate her at the same time. Sold into slavery, she persuaded her master to allow her to give birth to her child. She managed by promising to supply fresh milk for his coffee each morning, warm from her tit." At this point, darling, you take the small boy from his mother, hold him tightly and kiss him. Giving the boy to his father, you then kissed the girl who was at that instant the happiest, most beautiful young woman I have ever seen. Continuing, you say, "I also have it on good authority that Ann cannot wait to produce a brother or sister for Billy. And my bet is that she's just getting started!" At that Bill, Sr., gives the little boy to you and then takes his wife-to-be, and the mother of his namesake, into his arms. Again, my darling, it is utterly magnificent. Aside from anything else, you made it, at that instant, the finest Christmas present I have ever received. To see the joy shared by those two young people, reunited after three years and from the depths of despair, was remarkable. It was so beautiful seeing that girl trying to melt her body to her mate's. The Bradleys go off leaving just one more woman standing beside you on the podium. This woman seems substantially older than the others. At first I thought that she was plain, but looking closer, I was not so sure. There is a mature beauty there, as well. The woman has her hair — a lovely light brown with golden highlights — cut very short in a wavy cap on the top of her head. She is about your height, my darling, perhaps an inch shorter. However, she carried herself with the same erect carriage you have. While I watch, you reach out, take the woman's hand and pull her close to the microphone. When you start to speak again I realize for the first time, Katherine, that you are close to breaking down. Although I have no idea what is going on, clearly this woman is very important to you in some way. "Ladies and gentlemen," you began, "I want to introduce you to the most courageous woman it has ever been my good fortune to meet. As most of you know, I was — and still am — a slave. But never have I encountered what my newest and best friend, Betty Smith, did. Betty was sold into slavery seven years ago at the age of eighteen. Ever since, she has been treated as an animal. And I mean that literally. She pulled her owner's plow in the fields and pulled his cart into town. Repeatedly he took her sexually, but only with her bent over so he could take her doggie-style. Tonight poor Betty had difficulty speaking. Why? Because she has not spoken a word in over five years!" My darling, tears were now streaming down your cheeks but you had your arm around Betty Smith and were holding her close. You continued, "This woman's back is nothing but a mass of scar tissue. Every time she spoke a word she was beaten literally into the ground. But today she is free." Turning to the woman you asked, "What now, Betty? What would you like to do?" Now as I moved closer I could see what you saw. This woman, Betty Smith, represents the indomitable human spirit. The woman slowly shook her head and then, speaking in the warmest voice I have ever heard said, "I don't know, Princess." Then she looked out at the crowd, raised her voice and said, "What I do know is that I will drop to my knees and kiss the feet of the princess, soon to be our queen!" And no sooner had she said it than she did exactly that. She drops to her feet and before anyone could do anything, kisses the feet of my darling slave. Instantly recovering, you raised her to her feet and hugged her close. The woman smiled warmly, apologized for embarrassing you and then returned to the microphone. "I would like to tell you people what has just happened to us. A few minutes ago you saw a bedraggled bunch of women helped off some carts we had been riding in for what seems like days. The nicest thing that could be said about our appearance was filthy! So what happens?" Betty smiles the warmest smile I have ever seen and continues, "Princess Katherine happens... along with her daughter, Crown Princess Julia." Betty Smith paused and then continued, "There cannot be two finer women alive in the whole world than these two. To say that our country is blessed to have them is the least thing that can be said. "Although there were perhaps a dozen handmaidens, I'm sure that the two princesses between them personally did about 75 percent of the work — and closely supervised all of the rest. Whether it was washing our filthy bodies, styling our hair, dressing wounds, obtaining clothing, applying perfume or makeup, they were there." Betty then stood up as straight as she could, causing her tits to thrust up and out. "Take me," she said softly. "Princess Katherine changed me from a draft animal back to a woman in only thirty minutes..." At that the poor woman totally lost control and began to bawl. And you, my darling, as quickly pulled her close to comfort her. When you calmed her down you spoke quietly into the microphone, "Betty, would you like to be a man's wife? Perhaps a wife and mother? Have a small cottage of your very own to decorate? To have a warm hearth and a loving husband? Would you like that, Betty?" The woman's eyes just filled with tears to such a degree that she was quite literally speechless. Clearly, my darling, you were describing what was for her the impossible dream. Holding her tightly you continued, "Darling Betty, there is a man, Thomas Murphy, who would like your hand in marriage. He is a good man and a proud one. He is the regimental sergeant-major of our elite mounted infantry regiment. It was troopers from this regiment who brought you all back here to us and whom all of your friends will be marrying. Sergeant Murphy is responsible for them all. Moreover — although for the life of me I don't know why — they have asked and I have granted the regiment permission to call itself the Queen's Own. It has designated itself as my personal guard." Then with a little grin and a wink in my direction — it was the first time I knew that you were even aware of my presence — you said, "Of course I do not know what my lord and master will think of the idea..." At that moment Betty's eyes sparkled in a way I have never seen in my life. It was as if a small child actually met Santa Claus. At that point Murphy presented himself. At six feet three, 240 pounds, Tom Murphy is a giant among men. With his dark hair and brilliant blue eyes, I suddenly realized that he is also very handsome. By now there was silence in the courtyard as everyone present watched the human drama unfold. You raised Betty's head from your shoulder and said softly, "Betty Smith, may I present Thomas Murphy? He is a dear friend. A man whose honor and integrity I can personally vouch for." The woman turns toward Murphy and I can see her eyes widen. He is male perfection in her eyes. You continue, "Sergeant Murphy, it is my great honor and privilege to present you to Elizabeth Smith, known to her friends as Betty. Sergeant," you said with a catch in your voice, "you deal with bravery and courage. I can assure you, sir, that there is no more brave nor courageous person alive than Betty Smith. If God blesses your union with children, I can assure you that if they inherit the tiniest fraction from their mother, they will be a credit to you and all of the Murphys!" Darling, what followed was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Tom Murphy held out his arms and that lovely woman went into them immediately. As if in a daze, she raised her head as he lowered his. When their lips met, I think everyone present in the courtyard could hear the ringing of the bells. And then what? What else, Katherine? You signaled the orchestra leader who begins playing Christmas carols. From somewhere Julia appears at your side and I listen as my two loves sing with magnificently matched — indeed, nearly identical — coloratura soprano voices "O, Holy Night" followed by "Angels We Have Heard on High." When your two voices joined in singing "Gloria in excelcis Deo, " the vocal trills were unbelievable. From there you led the crowd in a whole series of lovely Christmas carols, ending with, "Come All Ye Faithful." Does my slave stop at singing a carol? Ha! (By the way, I'm going to have to get even for your caterwauling that first night we were together. Now I learn that not only can you sing, you sing beautifully... angelically, in fact!) At your command, the orchestra, now reconstituted as a band, starts to move toward the castle gate. Quietly — how they made them quiet, I'll never know — the gates were opened, the portcullis raised, and the drawbridge was lowered into position. Then, like the Pied Piper again, you lead the entire crowd, singing carols all the way, down to the village in time for Midnight Mass at the church. Slave, what am I good for? Can I not do anything? Is it over? Ha! After the service we returned to the castle for a Christmas supper with eggnog and fruitcake served to everyone. Finally — and now it's after four in the morning — I am able to make my way to our apartment and let myself in. Vaguely I wondered where you are but, by now, I'm so tired I scarcely know who I am. Stumbling into our bedroom I head for our bed... and stop. There you are, my darling, naked on the bed with a sprig of holly in your pussy. Julia's head is close to yours and she has a sprig of holly behind her ear. "Hi, Daddy," she says softly. "Merry Christmas." "Merry Christmas, beloved master," you say softly. "All I can give you for Christmas is my body, Master. Now will you please give Kate, your loving slave, a Merry Christmas fucking?" ------- Chapter 10 Katherine, what are you doing to me? Just a few short months ago I was the happy ruler of my little kingdom. The people weren't happy, but who cared, anyway? Everything was nice and settled. And if the people weren't happy, they were too busy trying to scrape by — to just survive — to do anything about it. Then, of course, my large army helped, too. But now? Now I go into the village and I don't recognize the place! People are cheerful! They even hail me as I pass. Although it's still midwinter, there are signs of people fixing up their homes. Business activity is at record levels — as are my tax collections. And this in spite of you — now designated Chancellor of the Exchequer — cutting taxes again! This time a major reduction from the lower base. Tax rates are now only 5 percent, but we are overflowing with money. But then this morning, you really did it to me. Tom Murphy came to see me. I don't know what to do with or for the poor guy. Do you know what happened to him last night? Do you? Betty and Tom had invited Jack Carson — he's the second sergeant in the Queen's Own — along with his new bride, Janice, over for dinner. Well, it started off well enough with the women serving canapés — canapés yet! — to their husbands. The men had cocktails — the girls made them, too — and then a magnificent dinner. When it was over, the girls suggested... Bridge! Can you believe it? But the girls taught the guys how to play. (Who taught the girls? Katherine!) Incredibly, according to Murphy, it was fun. The guys were teasing the girls, though, so after a rubber the guys suggested poker. Strip poker. That, my darling Katherine, proved to be a mistake. It seems the girls were far better poker players than the guys. (How did that happen, Katherine?) Suffice it to say the guys ended up stripped bare. What then? Did the women allow their husbands to cover their nakedness? Don't be silly. They ordered them to stand at a modified submissive posture. Instead of kneeling, they were standing with their legs spread and their hands clasped behind their necks. Then the women dropped to their knees and compared their husbands' equipment! Can you believe it? Janice Carson, a gorgeous young blue-eyed blonde, just said, "Yum!" Then, and in spite of the fact that it was snowing, she made Jack run home naked. When he protested, she pointed out that she had spent most of the previous two years as a naked slave, so running a couple of blocks to their cottage wouldn't kill him. I sympathized with Tom and asked what had happened then. He said that as soon as the Carsons left, Betty led him — holding him by his cock! — into the bedroom. (By the way, Tom is funny. He told how the first morning, after nightlong lovemaking, their bed was a wreck. In spite of it being Christmas Day, Betty started to strip the bed to take the sheets down to the river to wash them. And she was planning on wading in the river in spite of the floating ice! Tom pointed out that it was a lot easier to use the washing machine and dryer. After showing her how they worked, Betty began cleaning up a storm. And she hasn't stopped yet!) At any rate, once in the bedroom, she ordered Tom to strip her — slowly. She instructed him, item by item, what to remove and how. By the time she was naked, her nipples were hard as pebbles and extended almost half an inch out from her tits. Drops of cunt juice were dripping onto the floor from her pussy. She ordered him to his knees while she spread her legs wide for him. Only then did Tom realize that her pussy was basically shaved except for a very cute dense patch of curly hair right above her slit. At that point he didn't need more instructions but started to eat her cunt. In almost no time Betty started to cum in what, he said, was the sweetest flow of love juices he could imagine. When she was in a daze and her pelvis was in an uncontrolled spasm, he carried her to their bed. After waiting only long enough for her spasms to end, he took her and took her and took her. Because of the women playing with their husbands' cocks, Tom said he had never been so hard in his life. Shaking his head sadly, Murphy continued his tale. Although when he first took Betty to his bed she was quite chunky after having served as a draft animal for eight years, and even being made to sleep on her feet in the stable! Now, he says, although the muscles are still there, they are smoothing out. Moreover, the scars on her back are disappearing. Physical conditioning? You would not believe it! (But, no, darling Katherine, you certainly would believe it! You organized it!) Keep in mind, please, that the Queen's Own is my elite regiment. The men pride themselves on their conditioning. Well, what do you suppose happened last week? The men were to run the obstacle course in mid-winter. And their wives appeared, naked, to run it with them. And the women won! All true. The final straw? He said that everything is happening here at the palace. You and Julia are giving courses in absolutely everything from cooking to playing Bridge to lovemaking. But Murphy complained about your using me as a demonstration vehicle. He said that Betty thinks it's so great to see me take you in your ass — with you stopping me in the middle to explain what's happening! Katherine, what are you doing to me? But the last straw was using my cock to demonstrate how to go down on a man and then letting all of the girls practice on me! It's tiring and it's unfair. But, my darling Katherine, in seriousness now, I cannot tell you how wonderful it feels to see Betty Murphy! That woman, kept as a beast of burden and denied her very humanity, is now so vibrant and alive! She is now a rare beauty becoming more beautiful by the day. In part, it is all the things you are doing for her, in part it is Tom Murphy's love for her, and in part it is her own indomitable spirit. Clearly, my love, the time you spent in slavery has caused you to appreciate freedom, both for yourself and for others. Hmm. But that would mean I would have to give you your freedom, my darling, and I'm really not prepared to do that... ------- Chapter 11 Katherine, there is one thing on which I must insist. I will thank you not to lead me a merry chase over hill and dale... and riding astride! Damn it, you are a woman! Women are supposed to ride palfreys, not stallions! And they are not supposed to be able to handle the animals the way you do. You go into the barn and the damned horses — the stallions, yet! — go wild. What do you do with them? You nuzzle them, whisper to them, and giggle when they whinny! Katherine, damn it, you must tell me true: Do you actually talk to them? Do they really communicate with you? I strongly suspect that they do. Why? Well, I suppose I start off at a substantial disadvantage since I weigh 200 pounds and you weigh a scant 120! But you take unfair advantage! And blast it! It's... it's not dignified for me to be chasing you vainly around the whole kingdom... And if your cunt did not usually betray you and cause you to rein in your mount, I don't know what I would do... Of course what happened a couple of weeks ago was the living, breathing end! For a change, you were riding a filly instead of a stallion. I was on Satan... but why was the filly named Satana, do you suppose? Of course both are coal-black with those marvelous blue overtones. Anyway, you led me a merry chase. If Satan hadn't sensed that Satana was coming into heat, I don't know what would have happened. But never have I seen two horses having more fun than our two did. And Satana! Not quite four years old, and an incredibly beauty. To see the two of them together... At any rate, I barely kept you in sight until we come to that terribly isolated farmhouse. Looking around I saw signs of very recent neglect, as did you. Dismounting, I noticed how carefully you removed all of Satana's tack, quickly but thoroughly rubbed her down, then let her out to run free in the pasture. I followed suit with Satan. From the way he chased after her, it looked like the horses, at least, would have some fun. I saw your eyes flare just before we tried the door and let ourselves in. Clearly you were expecting to find something unpleasant and we certainly did! The stench in the house was unreal. Mixed odors of vomit, urine, feces, and — I shuddered when I caught it — just a hint of the sickly-sweet odor of gangrene. We began our exploration and quickly found the problems. The man of the house — the farmer — was the source of the gangrenous stench. Apparently he had hit his leg with an ax and the cut was badly infected. The poor guy was delirious. Going further we found a children's room and nursery. The mother was unconscious on the floor while two small children and an infant were unconscious, also, if they were still alive. This was where the odors of vomit, urine, and feces were concentrated. Finally, in another room we found a young girl of about twelve, also unconscious. And what does my darling do? She immediately starts scrounging around, finds cleaning supplies, and begins to clean up the filth. While this is going on, I was exploring, too. To my surprise and pleasure I found a thoroughly moldy loaf of bread. For some reason — someone had been about to make sandwiches? — the loaf had been sliced lengthwise and then left. Mold covered the exposed surfaces. Taking one half, I returned upstairs and wrapped the loaf, mold side down, against the farmer's fearfully infected leg. I had heard somewhere that there is something in certain kinds of mold that kills infection. Having no clue what kind of mold it was, all I could do was use the only moldy surface we had — and pray. Finishing that task, I came to your aid and took over the cleaning chores. As soon as I do, you disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. Awhile later I smell the odor of chicken soup cooking. Despite the cold, we opened windows after bundling the now-clean people to clear some of the noxious odors. The fresh air alone seems to bring the hint of a smile to several unconscious faces. Darling, for the next three days the two of us really worked. In honesty it was more physical labor than I can ever remember doing in my entire lifetime. I worked on the house and the barn, and tended the livestock, while my luscious slave did everything else. As, one by one, the people came out of their comas, we began to breathe again. Mirabile dictu, it became apparent that the farmer would even keep his leg. Finally, we started to get acquainted with the farm family. One thing puzzled both of us: the older girl who you guessed to be about twelve years old. The next oldest child appeared to be about five while, the farmer's wife did not appear to be older than about twenty-one herself. On the morning of the fourth day we went into the kitchen from the living room where we had been sharing the floor as our bed. In the kitchen we found the wife up, about, and preparing breakfast. As she worked, you, my darling, in your inimitable style began gently to question her about the older girl. For, in addition to everything else, all the other family members were dark-complected while she was a blue-eyed blonde. At that point the woman turned from the sink where she had been working, went into your waiting arms and began to bawl. We learned that raiders had dropped the girl off at the house almost two years earlier, saying they would be back, and threatening all kinds of terrible things if word of her presence ever became known. At that point I interjected, "Good grief, I know what happened... and I now know who this poor girl is. She is now Duchess of the North! There was a raid in which her parents, the Duke and Duchess, were killed and she was carried off. My troopers caught up with the raiders before they could make their escape, but there was no sign of the Countess of the North, their daughter and only child. Even though we questioned the survivors till death, there was no word of the fate of the child." At that point the woman vowed to send the girl to court to see us as soon as her condition permitted. Did that end our experience? Not hardly. When we sat down on the bench beside the hand-hewn table, to our surprise the young woman sat on the table between us... and proceeded to shuck her bodice revealing lovely milk-swollen tits. "Your Majesty," she began, "there are no words... How can I thank you for saving the lives of all of us? I cannot. All I can do is offer you something you might not get every day. This morning, Majesty and Princess, may I offer my milk for your coffee... and... and for your cereal?" I know damned well my jaw dropped. You, Katherine? Of course not. Without batting an eye you lifted your coffee cup and milked her tit into it. Then you repeated with your cereal. Following this, and recognizing my own inability, you did the same with mine. Finally you said softly, "Darling, why don't you drink some straight. I'm sure it's most luscious and sweet right from the nipple!" I'm sure my eyes opened wide, but that's exactly what I did. The young woman, once she overcame her modesty, had a wonderful time feeding us both from her luscious milk-swollen tits. When the time came to leave, it only took a quiet whistle from you to get Satana trotting toward the fence and then gracefully leaping over it, followed a moment later by Satan. The two horses were nuzzling all the way over. And you, darling? Did you really have to say, "Well, Satana, was it good?" And then howl with laughter at the filly's nickered reply? ------- Chapter 12 And now my darling Katherine, what do we do? Now that your friend Leila is housed in the dungeon, what are we going to do with her? For that matter, what are we going to do with our daughter? Honey, last night at the ball she was unreal! What she did to that poor junior officer, Ensign Morrison — although very funny, I must admit — was inexcusable! But what are we to do? Although scarcely fifteen, she has the sophistication and beauty of a woman far older. Damn it! Now that her tits have almost filled out ... But she's only fifteen! Damn it, woman! She's your slave. Do something! The ball was — as I have come to expect — another Queen Katherine spectacular ... In spite of the fact that we are not yet married and you are, in fact, still my slave. Technically, at least. Damn it, Katherine, you are not my queen! Yet. Can I help it if my subjects consider you to be their rightful ruler, rather than me? Can I help it if my crack troops have designated themselves as "The Queen's Own" despite the fact that I have no queen? Damn it, woman, stop! And then there's the exchequer. Katherine, I hate you. Did you really have to cut the tax rates again? Now my rate is only 2.5 percent! That is utterly ridiculous! Good grief, woman, most kingdoms have sales taxes double that and higher! And it's the only tax we have! (But we're swimming in money, anyway.) But you can't believe the flak I received at the last Reigning Monarchs' Convention! They accuse me of everything, but most particularly price-cutting against the wishes of the Kings' Cartel! But back to the subject at hand: the palace ball last night. First, if I live to be 200 I will never forget the joy I felt when you introduced Tom and Betty Murphy as our guests of honor. With the exceptions only of you and Julia, Betty was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen! And having her appear in that backless gown, woman, was a stroke of pure inspiration. You have had her in the tanning machine to such a degree that it has lightened her hair to a shade of gold darker than Julia's but still gorgeous! And with her grey eyes, she is exquisite. And Tom Murphy, appearing in his full-dress uniform, could not have been more proud. And darling, when after making the introductions, Betty dropped to her knees to kiss and lick your feet you were unable to get her to stop. She finally did stop on her own, stood up, and took the microphone away from you. (A first, by the way!) At that point Betty Murphy introduced herself and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am here tonight because of Katherine, Crown Princess — and probably Queen — of the kingdom of Texass, and Queen Designate of our own country." Standing up as straight as she could — and with Betty that is very straight indeed — she continued, "My queen saved my life. I was a beast of burden. I was not even human. I did not utter a single word for more than five years! But then one day riders appeared at my master's farm. In just moments he had a great deal of money and I was being carried off on the back of a horse mounted ahead of the rider, Tom Murphy. "Poor Tom!" Betty continued. "Here I was, a human mule, riding on horseback. (Have you ever heard of a mule riding a horse? I never have, but that's what I was doing. A mule riding on a horse!) If I remember, it had been years before when I was last able to immerse my whole body in water. I'm sure I stank to high heaven. Did this bother Tom? I'm certain that it did, but he never let on. He just held me tightly until we rejoined the rest of the patrol. Then I was in a cart with other just-freed female slaves. "I was returned to the kingdom, arriving on Christmas eve. Then I came into the hands of Queen Katherine and Crown Princess Julia. And the rest, as they say, is history. Today I am Tom Murphy's wife. As yet we have no children. On the other hand," she continued with a thoughtful frown, "if a woman is fucked once, becomes pregnant, and delivers a baby in nine months, is it not reasonable to suppose that, if I am fucked at least five times a day, every day, I should be able to deliver much faster?" With the cutest grin I've ever seen she answered her own question: "I think so, too!" Then the lovely woman turned toward Tom and raised her lips to him. Murphy took her face in his hands, tipped it, and then melted his lips to hers. My darling, at that instant those two were the two happiest people on the face of this earth! And, my darling, coming on the heels of the inhuman treatment she lived with for so many years, it is wonderful. As are you, my darling, for making it all happen. When we made our appearance at the winter ball, I suppose it was an event. Wearing the ivory ball gown, with your deep tan, emerald eyes and auburn hair, you were utterly exquisite. As we dressed, when I put the white-gold and diamond collar on your neck, you were cute, noticing as you did that it had a small eyelet in back to which your leash could be attached. "Master, am I again going to be naked on my hands and knees fighting the dogs for table scraps?" This brought a rueful grin to my face. That had not been one of my most inspired efforts, either. In fact, when I finally abandoned it, you had come so to dominate the animals — with the power of your love, I'll bet — that they would vie with one another to carry the finest pieces over to you. So much for treating you like a dog! Finally, though, I brought out something you had never seen before. Julia was standing at your side watching. I had talked with her earlier and she had arranged your hair in a way that looked magnificent with the diamond-studded crown I carefully set on your head. You looked at yourself in the mirror for just an instant, then turned to me, raised your lips and murmured, "Thank you, my darling! It is truly lovely." When I melted my lips to yours I could feel you melting your body to mine and even feel its warmth in spite of our intervening clothes. Then I placed a golden tiara on Julia's head as well. The look on her face, darling, was priceless and adorable! "Oh, Daddy!" she exclaimed, "it's simply gorgeous!" I grinned at her and replied, "Blame it on your mother, darling Julia! The more she cuts tax rates, the greater the revenues we take in. I have to do something with it, after all!" Then I looked at her more carefully, blinked, and then glared at you. "Katherine, what is happening to our daughter. She's only fifteen years old, but wearing a strapless gown? How can she keep it up?" Damn it, woman! You have to stop this. There was the loveliest look in your eyes. Then you winked at me and said softly, "Darling, this is Julia, our daughter? The one who has no room of her own? The one who shares our bed, our bath ... Darling, she also sleeps naked in our bed. And darling, those are real tits holding up her dress. And they are really so neat! They are so wonderfully perky!" I just shook my head and looked at our daughter, a vision in white and gold. Her dress was pure white which set off the smoothness of her golden tan, her brilliant blue eyes, her golden hair and the crimson of her lips. I took her in my arms and gently kissed her. Darling, I received possibly the finest kiss of my life at that instant. Our daughter melted her soft lips to mine. There was the flow of the purest love. Easing away, she said softly, "Thank you, Daddy." Then tears came to the corner of her eyes and she added, "I love you so very, very much!" Then she quickly kissed me again. Katherine, are women born knowing how to turn a man into Jell-O? Or do you work at it? Then there was a diffident knock at the door. Seeing Julia's eyes widen, I winked and went to open it. There I found a junior officer obviously so scared his teeth were almost chattering. "William Morrison, Sire. Ensign in the Queen's Own ... excuse me, milord, your mounted infantry regiment." Extending my hand I smiled — and I thought it was a very friendly smile, darling — and said, "Relax, Ensign Morrison. It is the Queen's Own Regiment and we both know it. Now come in. What brings you by tonight?" What an all-galaxy stupid question that was! Here's a junior officer in his full-dress uniform and I have already seen our young daughter's eyes widen. Morrison was over six feet three with blue eyes and golden hair. A very handsome young man of about eighteen. But I had to ask... "It was Her Majesty..." Morrison turned as red as a beet and started again, "Your lady, Sire..." "Princess Katherine suggested that it would be very nice of you to volunteer to escort our daughter, the Crown Princess Julia to the Winter Ball. Is that about it?" With a relaxed sigh he acknowledged that it was. "Have you been introduced to our daughter, Ensign Morrison?" I asked. "No, Sire, I have not yet had the honor," he whispered. By now we were in the sitting room. You greeted him with your customary warmth and charm. I could see the lad literally melt in your presence. I wondered where Julia had disappeared to. I had expected her to be waiting in the sitting room, demonstrating again how ridiculously little I know about women! The door to our bedroom opened quietly and Julia appeared. At that instant Morrison jumped to his feet and snapped to attention. Julia was a vision! "Ensign Morrison," I said quietly, "it is my great pleasure to present you to our daughter, Crown Princess Julia." Then to Julia, "Darling, this is Ensign William Morrison who is here to escort you to the ball." When Julia took his hand and unleashed her sunshine smile, it was all over right there! Darling, do women have no sporting blood at all? What Julia did was unfair to the point of being nearly criminal! Shooting fish in a barrel? Our Julia? Don't be silly. Shooting is much too sporting for her. She drains the water and then drops in a grenade! Is she finished? Julia? Ha! She goes up on tiptoes, puts her arms around his neck, kisses him lightly and says softly, "Ensign Morrison, thank you so very much for escorting me to the ball!" The poor guy was done! Darling, you don't even have to stick a fork in him. He is completely cooked! And it's all your fault! But then my darling slave demonstrates that she does take pity on poor unfortunates once in a while. "Ensign Morrison," you say quietly, "as the honorary commanding officer of The Queen's Own, I have an order for you!" Snapping to strict attention, the young man faces you and says, "Your wish is my command, Your Highness!" "Thank you, Ensign Morrison," you acknowledged with a smile. "My command is for you to help maintain order and discipline in our household. I am sure you have learned in just the last few moments the extent to which the Crown Princess is a horrible flirt and a tease. It is my express command, Ensign, that if she does that one more time, you are to stop whatever you are doing and, regardless of where you may be, you are to put the Princess Julia over your knee and spank her ... hard! If she is wearing pants — she probably is not, but I'm not sure — be sure to pull them down before spanking her." Then with a warm grin you add, "If she is wearing pants, it will be a luscious lace bikini. You may keep it, Ensign, as a souvenir." Snapping your fingers you continue, "Oh! And it should go without saying that you are authorized — No! Commanded! — to repeat as often as she misbehaves. And I can assure you, sir, you are the sole judge of what constitutes misbehavior in our daughter." Then turning to Julia, you smiled warmly and said, "Darling, I do hope you received the message? Loud and clear?" At this point my love for our darling daughter leaped. Julia went into your arms, kissed you full on your lips and said, "Thank you, beloved Mother!" When she turned toward Morrison there were tears in her eyes as she said, "You have just seen one reason why I worship the ground my mother walks on. Please call me Julia, or Julie, or..." With a lovely grin she concluded, "Really, I answer to anything. May ... may I please call you Bill?" The young man just nodded. I don't think he was capable of speech at that instant. She continued, "And you have my permission to spank me also, Bill." Then with a dazzling smile she added, "And I am wearing a luscious white lace bikini for you to take away as a souvenir." At the Ball, shortly after we appeared — and after Betty Murphy kissed your feet — we were in a receiving line. Why is it we can never have any fun at our own balls? Why must we be frozen in position greeting an endless procession of lesser nobles along with the burghers of the town? While I am woolgathering, I am snapped back to the present by a woman, just five feet tall and almost as wide, wearing the most garish gown I could imagine. Could this be Leila? Behind her is a dark-complected, handsome man. Gilbert? I extend my hand and the woman gushes, "Leila Jones, your Majesty! I cannot tell you what a rare pleasure this is!" Turning to her escort she says, "And this is my escort, an old and dear friend, Gilbert Montague—" This is all I need to hear. "Guards!" I shout. "Seize this man!" Brandishing their halberds, four guards rush up and surround Gilbert. Now for the first time I can look around and do. My darling, the look in your eyes would kill. Never have I seen the green flames flashing from your eyes as they were then. Clearly, I had the right man. But then I looked past you to Betty. My darling, her grey eyes showed the purest hatred. Then I heard her speaking in the strangest tone of voice, almost as if it were disembodied, saying, "We meet again, Gilbert." While fixing him with the coldest stare imaginable she spoke to the rest of us: "Gilbert was the one who bought me at the slave auction. I was to be his experiment. Could a lovely young woman — I was very lovely at age seventeen — be made into a beast of burden? Although he was not my owner, Gilbert was my trainer. Milady, you remember my back was a mass of scar tissue when I was saved? Virtually all of the whip strokes that did that to me were administered by him!" With a bitter little laugh she continued, "In fact, it was almost funny. I suppose it would have been were I not in such constant and excruciating agony. You see, my owner could not bear even to watch my punishment being inflicted. Just looking at me suffering made him sick! And it was all Gilbert..." At that Betty just broke down. Tom Murphy was there to wrap his huge arms around her and hug her tightly to his chest. Although Tom, like me and most men, is utterly helpless in the presence of a woman's tears, instinctively he did the right thing, hugging his beloved wife close to protect her. While he hugged Betty, he turned to me and asked, "Your Majesty, in lieu of any pay I may earn over the next year, I ask that I be given three hours alone with this ... this monster... ! who almost destroyed the nicest, sweetest, most beautiful, most loving woman that God in His wisdom ever created: my wife, Betty! Sire, I beg you... !" "No, Tom! I'm terribly sorry," you interjected. "I understand, and appreciate your feelings. However, Tom, after the ball, Betty and I are going to have a competition. You see, while I agree completely with your appraisal, this is something that we will handle ourselves." Turning to Leila, still standing in front of us in a state of shock you say, "And as for you, Leila, do you remember me?" "Good heavens," she exclaims. "Are you... ? Can you be... ? Katherine?" I speak before you can — a singular achievement, might I add? — "This is Crown Princess Katherine of the kingdom of Texass. In addition, she is betrothed to me. And you, madam? Do you not know how to greet royalty?" While awaiting a response from Leila, with a nod of my head, one of the halberdiers produced a pair of handcuffs and secured Gilbert's hands behind him. In moments he was hustled away in the direction of the dungeons. Looking back again at Leila, I found her down on her knees with her body now quivering with fear. "She is ... is ... your betrothed?" she stammered in dismay. "Indeed she is, madame," I replied. Then turning to you, my darling, I asked, "What would you have me do with this ... this ... creature?" And as for you, my darling, you play the situation for all it's worth. First, Katherine, I must say that you looked truly regal this evening. Your posture is always good but tonight you outdid yourself. Never has a woman looked as beautiful. Pretending to consider — I'm sure you knew exactly what you were going to do — you looked pensive. Then speaking in your own inimitable fashion as if you're thinking out loud you murmur, "Well, let me think ... Serving as her slave I was forbidden to wear any clothing ... Hmm." Then you look thoughtfully at the woman down on her knees. Turning to Betty, you continued your charade. "Darling Betty, do you think it would be a terrible imposition on our guests to inflict a naked Leila on them? What do you think?" Katherine, it is clear that Betty has now become your henchwoman. Being two years younger, she has found a rôle for herself in your train. I look at her and realize how incredibly beautiful she is now. And I wonder what is in store for Gilbert Montague, but somehow, I think I will be happier not knowing. But Betty goes to the still-kneeling Leila and casually unzips her gown down to her waist. When she folds it down, Leila bulges out of it, revealing her tits which are flabby and pendulous. "Oh, look, Princess!" Betty says with great glee. Having dropped to her knees she is slapping Leila's tits and watching them shake like gelatin that has yet to set. "This is such fun!" Betty exclaims. "Would you like to play, too, my princess?" And you, Katherine, maintain a straight face as you reply, "Thank you, darling Betty, but I don't want to deprive you. Leila really does have tits like Jell-O, doesn't she?" After shaking your head, when next you speak there is steel in your voice. "Leila, you are to strip bare. Then you are to serve the guests — in any way they wish! Do you understand?" With her eyes as big as saucers Leila slowly shakes her head and says "I don't believe I do, Princess. What do you mean?" "I mean, Leila, that if a man wishes to fuck you, your response is, 'Which opening would you prefer, Sire?' If a woman wants you to eat her pussy, you will do it with enthusiasm. Am I clear?" "Yes, Your Highness. You are very clear, indeed." With that the woman surprised me — and you, too. She carefully stripped off every stitch of her clothing, gathered up her things and carried them off in the direction of the service pantry. Clearly she was going to follow your instructions to the letter. At this point I lost interest in Leila and turn my attention back to the ball. Looking around I realize it is the most festive party at the palace in memory. Turning to you — like a fool! — I ask the reason. "Master, just look! Look at all the lovely young women! And I can't tell you how many of them are now pregnant. After all, Sire, hundreds have now been freed from slavery..." You looked at me, grinned, and motioned with your hand. In response to your signal a beautiful young woman comes over leading her escort by his hand. "Sire, does this young woman look familiar?" Looking at the girl I saw a blue-eyed blonde with an incredibly beautiful figure. When she reached us she made a perfect court curtsy, then remained down with her leg out while her upper body was erect. The girl was utterly exquisite. I cannot remember ever having seeing her before, yet she seemed familiar. "Master, do you remember telling me of events earlier in the day on the day I first appeared here at the castle? How a young girl sold herself into slavery so that her parents would have enough money to pay their taxes? How she was weeping yet still was inviting prospective purchasers to feel her cunt and her tits?" My eyes widened. Of course! Taking the girl's hands I lift her to her feet and look into her eyes. It is all I can do to keep from crying. Her eyes are so clear and guileless. If eyes are the window on the soul, this young woman is as pure as new-driven snow. "I am Gail Jackson, Your Majesty," the girl says in a beautifully modulated voice. "And Sire, if it please you, may I present my escort, John Casey?" Her escort, a tall, dark-haired young man with blue eyes, shakes hands. Continuing, she says, "And, Your Majesty, there are no words I can use to express my joy and gratitude to you for buying me out of my slavery." Standing up as straight as an arrow she continued, "But, Sire, on the other hand it was an experience that I shall never forget. Now I truly appreciate what freedom means, having lost it once. Thank you, Sire." When the young couple return to their dancing, you carefully wipe the tears from my eyes with your handkerchief. "Big tough monarch!" you whispered. "Hah!" Glancing toward the corner, I saw Leila Jones naked and on her hands and knees. Her knees were spread wide to allow a man access to her cunt which he was plowing from the rear while her head was under the skirt of the man's companion, lapping her cunt. Clearly the woman was following your orders to the letter. Moreover, in spite of her fat, she seemed to be entertaining our guests. Another young woman was kneeling on the floor spanking Leila's gelatinous tits and giggling merrily as she watched them shake. Just then we heard a commotion from the dance floor followed by the sound of hard spanks. As guards started moving out from their positions against the walls, you moved to the microphone at the bandstand and commanded everyone to be still. "The sound you hear, folks, is the sound of Bill Morrison's large hand repeatedly contacting our daughter Julia's lovely little bottom. Undoubtedly she wised off once too often and is now paying the price." As you spoke the crowd parted and we could then see Julia with her gown up over her head and her lovely tanned bottom turning cherry-red under Morrison's assault. As we watched, Morrison stopped his assault on Julia's ass, then after carefully lowering her skirt into position he helped her to her feet. As we watched, our daughter went into the young man's arms and then melted him with her kiss. When they separated, it was easy to see that there was a short argument — mirabile dictu, one that she loses! Now hand in hand they come up to where we are standing and watching. Looking at us, our daughter draws herself up so that her back is ramrod straight. Then with her eyes wide she says, "Beloved mother and father, humbly I ask your pardon for disrupting your beautiful ball by my misbehavior. I must be punished, I know. Would it be possible for Ensign Morrison to take me out to an anteroom and do it for you? I know how much you dislike punishing me..." Before I could reply, I feel your hand quickly squeezing mine. Taking the hint I close my mouth without speaking. "You are forgiven, beloved Julia," you reply. "And it would be very nice if Mr. Morrison were to give you twenty more spanks. That should be appropriate, don't you think?" "Yes, ma'am, I do," Julia agrees. Then you asked, "Does he have your bikini, Julia?" "Oh, Mommy! Yes! And guess what? When we danced, he was holding me close in his arms so my cuntal fluids were flowing freely. Not only does he have my pants, they are soaked with my love juices!" Looking up at Morrison, who by then was blushing red as a beet, she asked, "Aren't you happy, Bill?" "Don't bother to answer, Mr. Morrison," I interject. The young man just shakes his head and led Julia off in the direction of an anteroom. "Master," you said softly, "would it be possible to dance with me, do you suppose?" Katherine, you are too much. Try as I will to conceal it, you saw me cringe at the thought. Darling, I cannot dance! Does this lack serve to slow you down? Ha! Looking at me you winked, then led me by the hand out onto the dance floor. I scarcely know how to hold a woman in my arms! Somehow we come together. The music is lovely and I find myself moving in time to it. But what about you? Katherine, you are in my arms but you are weightless. Every time in the past when I danced with a woman, it was as if I was trying to move dead weight around on the floor. You, my darling, float weightlessly. Moreover, through some magical power you seem to control my feet. It is fun! I hold you in my arms and even risk a glance down at your face. The joy I see suggests that you are having fun, too. Somehow my dancing becomes more expansive. This is marvelous. And I'm not even looking at my feet! Instead, my darling slave, I find my attention drawn to your face: to its incredible beauty and now showing great joy. We whirl around the floor until the music comes to an end. As it does, you drop into a perfect curtsy. Extending my hands you take them and allow me to raise you to your feet and then you come into my arms. As our lips merge, I hear noise which is quickly drowned out by the bells and the usual crackle of electricity as we kiss. Again my tongue probes your mouth and begins its mating dance with yours. My knees weaken, as do yours, as the power of our kiss nearly overwhelms us both. As we slowly separate, I again become aware of our surroundings ... and am nearly overcome with embarrassment! My darling, when we began to dance, the floor was crowded with dancers. Now I find us standing alone in the center of the floor with everyone else gathered around watching. Clearly, darling, we must have ended as a dance exhibition! While I'm turning cherry-red with embarrassment, are you? Ha! Instead you take my hand and haul me off toward the bandstand and the microphone. I should have known! "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your kind applause," you begin. "I have been telling my lord and master for months what a wonderful dancer he truly is. He refused to believe me. Don't you agree that he is very good?" Again thunderous applause rings out. "This is the first in what we hope will be a series of balls here at the palace," you continue. "And now, our new maitresse de cuisine has outdone herself with a buffet supper that is being served in the next room. I hope you all will please join us." "Darling," I ask as we lead the way, "how much are we charging for this dance? "Charging?" you ask, startled. "Nothing, of course! These people are our guests ... And after all, darling, you said it yourself: We must do something with the money or it will bury us." In the next room, you rush over to the chef, a lovely brown-haired woman, and hug her tightly. "Master, this is Ellie, the cook who saved my sanity certainly, and perhaps my life, at the tavern. I have hired her to cook for us here at the palace." The woman smiles diffidently and extends her hand. Ignoring it I sweep her into my arms and kiss her. In the corner of my eye I can see you grinning happily. Clearly I must be doing something right. As I kiss her soft lips, I feel a flow of love and hold her tightly. When I release her, I see that her chef's toque has fallen to the floor but her eyes are bright with joy. "Welcome, Ellie! And thank you so much for everything you did for Katherine." "Milord," the woman replies, "nothing could possibly make me happier than to be with my ... my..." At this point the lovely woman collapses in tears. I hold her even closer and listen to her weeping. When she raises her head, I carefully wiped her tears with my handkerchief. And out of the corner of my eye I can see you beaming with pleasure. "Sire," she continued, "from the very first moment I saw her at the Golden Bear, I knew that Katherine was very special. In spite of being a slave, it was apparent to all of us that she was nobility. I cannot tell you how happy I am today to be able to work for such a magnificent young woman..." When she finally serves us, we go off to a corner. Tasting her food, my darling, all I can do is agree with everything you have ever said about Ellie. Truly her cooking is in a class by itself. It is nearly divine! There we are joined first by the Murphys and a short time later by Julia and Bill Morrison. I am amused by Betty Murphy's attitude toward Julia. It is a cross between an aunt and a big sister. Suffice it to say the two women certainly seem to love each other. "And how's your bottom?" Betty asks with neither preamble nor embarrassment. Julia very cutely sticks out the tip of her tongue and replies, "If you must know, it hurts like hell and will be all shades of black and blue tomorrow!" Turning toward Morrison she adds, "Bill, you really hit hard!" As Morrison is about to apologize, you look at him and say, "Ensign Morrison, you must understand our daughter. She wasn't complaining ... Rather, she was complimenting you." With an adorable little grin you add, "My master and I think she is more than a little masochistic." The evening winds down rapidly. I find myself back in the apartment with Julia. Her eyes are dancing with delight after she melted into Morrison's arms when he brought her home. Katherine, what are we going to do? Do you know what our fifteen-year-old daughter said? She said, "I burned him with such a kiss, his vision won't clear for at least three days..." Darling! She's only fifteen! But where, in hell, are you? Oh well ... In your absence from my bed — the very first in all of our time together — I was forced to share it with just our daughter. My darling, do you know what she did? After giving me the warmest, most loving kiss of my life she asked, "Do you mind if I just go to sleep, Daddy? It is very late ... and I want to dream of Bill. He's just so cool!" With that she molded her slender body to mine and almost instantly fell asleep with her arm across my body, while her golden head rested on my shoulder. All night long I just listened to the sexiest murmurs coming from deep in her body. And one time, when I accidently just brushed my hand against her still-crimson bottom, she came! ------- Chapter 13 Down in the dungeons Betty and I checked on the condition of Gilbert and then Leila. Gilbert had been placed in a torture frame that spreadeagled his body. Following my earlier instructions, he had not been touched. Leila was suspended by her wrists with her toes just touching the stone floor. She was already moaning in agony, while cum continued slowly to drip from her now-ravaged cunt. Because she was so fat, there was a great deal of weight suspended from her wrists. After ordering her released from her bonds, I instructed the guards to leave us. "Yes, your majesty," they said very respectfully. Betty and I exchanged whispered instructions — a code which will get us released from the dungeon when we wish. Then I ordered Leila to begin to run around the perimeter of the large circular torture chamber. She looked at me with an uncomprehending stare so I cracked the whip over her shoulders. Instantly she began to run, with both her tits and her ass jiggling like Jell-O as she did. Then we turned our attention to Gilbert. Standing before him I asked softly, "Do you remember me, Gilbert?" "You are the slave, Katherine, aren't you?" he replied. "Yes, Gilbert. I am," I responded with an impassive facial expression. "Do you remember the last time we met? You whipped me until I promised I would do anything you asked if you would only stop. I was utterly destroyed, but you still would not stop. Do you remember?" I repeated. He nodded although, with his head fixed in position, there is only very limited movement possible. Turning to Betty I said, "Darling, I think the blood is going to be flying. My master adores this dress on me and will be very upset if anything should happen to it ... And blood washes easily off skin but can stain clothing..." With a quick grin, Betty shed her clothing and, after carefully putting it away in a cupboard, returned and stood beside me. I replicated her actions and in just moments we were standing naked side by side. "As cruel as you were to me, Gilbert, it was nothing compared to what you did to this woman. Betty Smith — now Betty Murphy — is the wife of the regimental sergeant-major of the Queen's Own Mounted Infantry. And I, Gilbert, am the Queen. Do you understand?" "I believe so, Mistress," he responded. "But what are you going to do to me?" "To you, Gilbert? A good question. Betty and I are going to entertain ourselves using this whip on your body. Repeatedly you used a whip like this and literally beat her into the ground. It was a whip like this that virtually ended my humanity. Well, Gilbert, Betty and I have found we can take it. Now we are going to find if we're capable of dishing it out. I think we are. What do you think?" "When ... When will it end?" he stammered. "A very interesting question, Gilbert," I replied. "It will end when you ask Betty and me if you may be allowed to serve us your balls for breakfast. Oh! And there's just one more thing. You will ask us how we wish them cooked and you will then prepare them for us in that manner. Do you understand?" The only response from Gilbert was a murmured, "My God!" Looking at him thoughtfully, I said, "Gilbert, there will be some changes. When Betty and I were beaten, we were tied to something. But you will not be. Now go to the post in the center of the room, stand with your back against it and wait." I paused for a moment and then added, "I think it will be fun for you to be able to see the whip coming toward you and see the damage done by each stroke." Then turning to Betty, I asked, "Would you care to begin, or should I?" "Mistress," Betty replied, "I think we should take turns." Then with her eyes bright she adds, "God truly does work his wonders in strange ways! Just think, Mistress, you are right-handed while I am a lefty. With us swinging the whip from opposite sides, I think we'll have a great deal of fun!" Without replying to her in words, Master, I merely handed her the bull whip. I won't bore you with all the bloodshed. Suffice it to say that after taking turns for an hour or so, our arms were so tired we needed a rest. By this time, Gilbert's wrists were secured to the post in order to keep his body in some approximation of an upright condition. He was almost in the condition we desired. When I stopped whipping him before we took our break, I asked him if he had anything he wished to say. Unfortunately, by this time he appeared to be beyond speech. Betty and I were both giggling as we went to the coffee urn in the corner. Earlier you commented on Betty's irrepressible sense of humor. It was manifest just then. While I was pouring my coffee, she stood there with her head cocked and her finger under her chin, studying me. Finally, she nodded decisively and said, "Princess, keep it in." "Keep what in?" I asked, puzzled. With her eyes sparkling with gaiety she replied, "That lovely mottled effect on your body." Then she snapped her fingers and added, "That's what we can do with Gilbert! We can use him almost every day to finish your toilet." I looked at her, utterly baffled. I had no idea what she was talking about. "But Princess," she continued, "just look! The rusty-red of his drying blood goes so perfectly with your auburn hair ... And it will be even better as the winter progresses and your tan fades ... After all, your master, our king, would otherwise become bored with the monotonous perfection of your body." Only then did I look down at myself and then look carefully at Betty. Both of our bodies were speckled with drops of Gilbert's drying blood. Normally, Master, I'm not much for modern art, particularly the Jackson Pollack school of spattering paint, but I had to admit that the effect was striking. The two of us sank down on the floor, rested our backs against the stone wall and sipped our coffee. (Incidentally, Master, it's both cold and damp down there in the torture chamber, so I'm arranging to have the palace air-conditioning system extended down there. Just think! You'll be the envy of all the other members at the next Reigning Monarch's Convention with the only air-conditioned torture chamber in the world!) While we relaxed from our labor of love — or vengeance, to be more accurate — I became aware of Leila still running around the perimeter of the chamber. Staggering would have been a more accurate description for what she was doing, though. For some reason — the kindness of my heart, do you suppose (and don't you dare laugh!) — I took pity on the poor woman and asked her to join us. Instantly she collapsed against the wall and Betty went for coffee. I winced when I saw blood still dripping from both her cunt and asshole. "How do you feel, Leila?" I asked. "I am fine, Princess. Truly I am," she replied hoarsely. Then Betty returned with coffee. Ignoring the fact that it was scalding hot, she gulped it down. My eyes widened, as did Betty's. The girl took the cup and returned a few minutes later with a bucket of water and another cup of coffee. Leila instantly dropped her head into the bucket and began to lap up as much as she could. When she drank her fill, she just ducked her whole head into the bucket. "My God, woman! did you have anything to eat or drink tonight?" She just shook her head. Then I returned to my prior line of questioning, as I watched the blood continue to drip from her loins. "But you're bleeding!" I protested. "How can you possibly be fine?" Leila Jones did not reply directly. Instead she asked, "How many men did you take at one time after Gilbert took you away? Your body was prostituted, wasn't it?" All I could do was nod my head. "How many?" she repeated. "While I was waiting for you to come down to the dungeon, one of the guards told me how you were forced into slavery at The Sign of the Golden Bear. How you bared your tits, your cunt and your asshole. How you accepted tips in your cunt. How each week one of you — and one of the girls is now his wife, so he knows — were made available for whipping." As she looked at me intently, I realized how truly lovely her gray eyes were. She repeated, "How many at one time?" Master, I was taken completely aback. I didn't know what to do. All I could do was shake my head and mumble, "A couple of dozen, I guess..." "Well I only took ten, Princess," she interjected. "My bleeding cunt and asshole are just an indication of how terribly out of shape I am." After pausing for a moment she added, "Now how may I serve you? I assume that I will now be your slave." I started to shake my head, but she insisted. At that point I commented, "Leila, a few times last night I saw you with some of the ugliest, least attractive people at the dance. But at the same time, there were numbers of attractive men and women who wanted to sample your charms. Why, when you had a choice, did you pick the ugliest?" "For two reasons, Princess. First, because I'm so incredibly ugly myself. Second, because I was reasonably certain the more attractive men and women would find willing bed partners who would be both far more attractive, and far more sexually active than I will ever be." Master, I cannot tell a lie. My opinion of Leila is changing rapidly; she seems to be far more intelligent and caring than I remembered her as being. Then she asked, "What will you have me do as your slave? Certainly not a body slave — I'm far too ugly for that — and not in the kitchen either." With a grin she added, "I'm sure you well remember my incompetence in the kitchen." Then Betty came up with an idea. "Darling Princess," she said, "what did Gilbert make me into? A human beast of burden." Then with a big grin she asked, "Haven't you ever wanted a pony cart? Wouldn't that be neat? When we finish with Gilbert, how about harnessing the two of them to a small cart we can then use to get around town?" Incredibly, Leila greeted the idea with enthusiasm. (What is wrong with that woman?) "I can lead, Princess!" she enthused. Then she looked down at her chest and shook her flabby tits with her hands. Her eyes lit up and she said, "If there were rings in my nipples, I could have bells hanging from them. Then as my tits bounce around, there will be the lovely merry sound of my tit bells." She thought for a few moments and then added, "Perhaps a dildo could be shoved up my ass with a pony tail attached to it, so I would look more like a horse." At that point, Master, Betty went to the door and came back a few minutes later with a leather punch and two gold rings. She looked at me with a question in her eyes. I'm sure I must have responded by just looking ill. Instead I went over to where we had left Gilbert huddled on the ground, unconscious. Although I had intended to use him to distract me from what was about to happen to Leila, I found I couldn't keep my eyes away from the two of them. Master, Leila's behavior was utterly astonishing. Either she has changed dramatically, or I seriously misjudged her in the past. You see, to my amazement, she was on her knees but leaning forward to allow her pendulous breasts to hang free. While Betty was preparing to perforate her nipples, Leila was slapping her hanging tits and watching with a combination of amusement and disgust as they shook like Jell-O. When she saw that Betty was ready and waiting, she took her right nipple — the one closest to Betty — and pinched it into a turgid erection. Using both hands, she cupped her breast up to make it easy for Betty. I could see the girl swallow hard, position the tool against Leila's nipple and squeeze. As you know, the leather punch is made with a series of sharpened round cutters and is used to cut various-sized holes in leather. Although I was more than ten feet away, it was easy to see that Betty was using one of the largest. As her two hands came together — Betty had both hands gripping the handles — Leila let out a muffled scream and almost pitched on her face. The girl extended an arm and braced herself on the floor while she took several deep breaths. For her part it appeared that Betty was about to vomit. When Leila opened her mouth to ask for one of the rings, I instantly understood why her scream had been muffled. With her mouth open, blood flowed in a steady stream from a corner of it. Ignoring blood pouring from her wounded nipple, Leila slipped one of the rings through the hole and locked it in place. I recognized the rings, Master. They are single-use, permanently-locking rings. Once locked in place, the way it is now on her nipple, the only way to remove it is to cut it off. Then she shook her other breast, grinned again as it shook, pinched the nipple and then turned to be as close to Betty as she could to make Betty's bloody task easier. In moments, the bloody job was done. As I said, I had wanted to be as far from the two as possible to avoid seeing what I found irresistible. I had to watch. Going back to them, I heard Leila say, "Darling Betty, I'm so sorry! May I kiss you, now? Please? To thank you for what you've done for me?" "For you!" Betty exclaimed. "To you, is more like it. Leila Jones, I have mutilated you for life!" "That's okay," Leila replied calmly. "But you didn't answer. May I kiss you? Please?" Betty had no choice but to agree. At that Leila crawled the few inches separating them, took Betty in her arms and while crushing Betty's firm tits to her injured ones, proceeded to kiss her with all of her power. Master, I can only conclude that something incredible has happened to that girl. The power of her kiss almost knocked Betty out. After easing apart just far enough for Betty to catch her breath, Leila gave her a quick kiss on the end of her nose and giggled girlishly. "Betty Murphy, you are utterly exquisite!" she exclaimed. Then her face fell and she added, "And you're the woman Gilbert tried to make into a draft animal, aren't you?" When Betty just nodded, Leila continued, "You must utterly hate his guts!" Then with her eyes wide she looked deeply into Betty's and said, "Mrs. Murphy, will you do me a favor?" "Of course, Leila," Betty replied. "And that kiss of your was utterly scrumptious. I will remember if for a very long time. I can't recall a kiss as full of love as that one, ever in my life. And that includes dozens of kisses I've received from my darling princess, too. And we both know how full of love she is!" Only now did Betty become aware of Leila's scarcely-controlled excitement. Connecting Leila's excitement with her promise, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and asked, "But what is the favor you want?" When we heard her favor, both Betty and I nearly died. The favor? To brand her on both flanks with the royal brand. Master, in case you've forgotten, it is more than a full square inch in size! Although both of us had forgotten it, we had left the branding iron heating in a brazier. Glancing over at it, I could see that it was now red hot. But there was no dissuading the girl! Finally, I located a strip of leather for her to bite on, and she took her position face down on her knees with her butt high in the air. Not only did she insist on being branded, she insisted that it be deep. Betty had to hold the iron against her ass for at least five seconds on each side! Master, you certainly know how bloodthirsty I can be. In fact, it seems that I drew blood from your shoulder and your thigh the very first time we met. But even I have some limits, and what happened that night exceeded them ... dramatically! Leila just continued to kneel there with her bottom in the air while Betty applied it. I was sickened! Truly, I was. Would you believe it? With smoke rising from her ass — and an odor like barbecuing beef filling the chamber — Leila was calmly tapping her left hand on the stone floor in a slow tempo, counting the seconds while her body was being seared! She kept it up for a full five seconds — and then some! — while her ass was being roasted. But she never moved an inch! It was only when Betty removed the iron that Leila fell over in a dead faint. Believe it or not, I had to get a fire bucket and pour water on her bottom to put out the fire. The iron had been held in place so long it literally ignited her flesh. A few minutes later, she revived ... and then rolled over and sat down! Can you believe it!? Sitting on a bottom that had been burned like that? But she really did ... but only after crawling over to the brazier to reheat the branding iron. "That wasn't really so bad," she declared. Picking up the strip of heavy harness leather she had been biting on, I saw that she had bitten completely through it. I showed it to her and said, "Oh?" Believe it or not, she just grinned and then winked. The second brand, Master, was a replay of the first. The only thing she did was to insist that Betty match the spots carefully. She wanted to be sure that her brands would be symmetrical. Can you believe it? It's true. And again I had to put out a fire burning on her ass cheek. With Leila now lying unconscious on the floor, Betty and I turned our attention to Gilbert Montague. Being fully aware of what had just happened to Leila, he was a whimpering wreck. All I said was, "Well, Gilbert?" He replied, "How may I prepare my balls for your breakfast, Your Majesty?" "I believe I will have mine sautéed," I replied. Then I asked Betty, who being the agreeable sort that she really is, accepted a sautéed ball, too, to make it easier on Gilbert. Then, incredibly, Leila joined us. How she was able to stand at all is utterly beyond me, but she did. "Since he will be pulling the pony cart, he must be branded, too." Then with a humorless smile she added, "With your permission, Princess Katherine and Betty, may I? I think you'll agree that I do know how to do it." At that point we had to send for the guards. Although he was secured to the whipping post, he could move in a circle around it. Leila had no wish to chase him around in a circle with a red-hot branding iron in her hand. The guards secured him to a stone wall with manacles and an iron band secured around his waist which made any motion essentially impossible. As far as Leila was concerned, the only difference was she was moving slowly, but she was moving. When she applied the brand to his left cheek she said, "Gilbert, this is for what you did to Betty Murphy, the nicest, sweetest, most beautiful woman in the kingdom!" When she applied the brand, Gilbert screamed his lungs out. It had no apparent effect on Leila who merely held the brand in position and slowly counted out loud to five. When she removed the iron, again I splashed a bucket of water on his now flaming ass. Of course, Gilbert was unconscious, having fainted within the first two seconds. When she applied the brand to his right, she said, "This is for Princess Katherine, the most wonderful person alive in the whole world!" (Honest, Master, that's really what she said. I'm not making it up. Just ask Betty if you don't believe me — and I'm sure you don't!) While waiting for Gilbert to revive so we could adjourn to the Great Hall for our long-awaited breakfast, I took the opportunity to say, "Leila, you are much too kind in your description of me. But I have one favor to ask: Please refer to me as Kate? I much prefer it to 'Katherine.'" She immediately agreed. At any rate, Master, that is why you and Julia found Betty and me feasting on Gilbert's balls, which we ate for our breakfast. ------- Book II: Leila's Book ------- Chapter 14 My darling Katherine, I have a bone to pick with you. Late last night I came stumbling home from the semi-annual Reigning Monarchs' Conference. As usual, I was shot to shit, having taken flak from all of my colleagues there. And it was truly awful! But what did I find when I returned? Did you mop my fevered brow? Did you sympathize with the awful travel conditions I had to endure? (After all, now that spring has arrived, all the roads are seas of mud.) Did you do any of those things? My Katherine? Naah! After stumbling into the palace, am I greeted by my body slave at the gate? No. At the door of the palace? No. Grabbing a crust of slightly-stale bread left over from dinner hours earlier, I managed to get to our apartment. Am I greeted by you there? No. All I saw was a bit of light coming from our bedroom. And what do I find there? The two women I love the most, bedecked with spring flowers. Now I ask you — Was it truly necessary to weave the most fragrant of the tiny flowers into you cunt hair? Was it necessary to have your magnificent auburn hair cascading over the pillow? Was it really necessary to have rouged your nipples and your cunt lips? But the final straw? Drops of your love juices dripping from your bare pussy! Then after tearing off my clothes — and destroying my favorite riding habit in the process — I instantly bring you to orgasm and keep you there for at least twenty minutes. Collapsing in the bed beside you, am I left alone? Hah! How many times did you awaken me last night? I ask you, how many? But the last straw? Sometime last night, after again flooding your love box with my cum, I'm about to collapse, more dead than alive by this time, when Julia whispers, "Daddy, my cunt is particularly sweet tonight. You don't want my sweet juices to go to waste, do you? Or would you rather I call Bill... ? It is rather late, you know..." So I had to eat out a teenage virgin cunt, too! But then this morning, I stumble out of bed and find my way to the Great Hall. By this time I'm utterly starving to death. What do I find? You sitting in your chair waiting for me wearing — or almost wearing — the most sheer pale green gown that masks, but does not conceal, your luscious pink nipples. Damn it, Katherine, it's just not fair! And the final insult? Princess Julia appears, looking as fresh and sweet as you do, kisses me softly — melting me to my chair with the power of her love — and asks me brightly, "Did you sleep well, Daddy?" Now I mean... Really! With her sleeping on my left and you on my right — to the extent either of you slept at all — with your nipples poking holes in my chest the whole night, she has the nerve to ask me if I slept well! But back to the conference. As usual, there were a number of experts from the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard. This time they brought with them several very sophisticated new taxing concepts they had pilot-tested in the Kingdom of Slobovia. The King of Slobovia was the toast of the conference, having raised his kingdom's total tax rate to 71 percent! Katherine, what are you doing to me? I was a pariah at the conference. Our rates were only 2.5 percent, and — believe it or not — it was only there that I learned that you've cut them again, to 2 percent. A hell of a Chancellor of the Exchequer you are! If we weren't being buried under all the money pouring down on us, I would be forced to take drastic action. Now what do you have to say for yourself? ------- Master, I thought you would never ask. But first, darling master, my name is Kate. It is not Katherine, it's Kate. Now that is short, simple, and easy to pronounce, even for you. It is the name given me by my beloved lord and master, so I do wish you would use it once in a while. After all, you know I have preferred it from the very first day. Why do you insist on calling me Katherine? But with respect to Slobovia, while you were partying with your friends, I was entertaining guests also. One of them was Queen Matilda of Slobovia. By now, poor King Gustav will have had an earful from her, I'm sure. My darling, it's really a damned shame that neither you nor any of your regal colleagues can count! Dear heart, you spend money, not percentages. I heard all about Slobovia's 70-plus percent tax rate. Guess what? Our revenues are ten times theirs. But that wasn't what really interested Matilda. Believe it or not, darling, I am the envy of every queen on the continent. She — and almost all of the other queens — have seen you at some time or other. Wearing your customary Spandex hose, they almost drool at the sight of the equipment bulging from your crotch. Of course I didn't help matters a great deal when I told her that you regularly keep me in orgasm for thirty minutes at a time, at least three times a day, every day. I told her how our kingdom works. Your magnificent cock, regularly inserted into my dripping pussy, provides me with my driving force. My darling, I then take your force, modulate it, and re-transmit it back to you, to our darling Julia, and to the people of our kingdom. Moreover, I admitted to her — and to myself, yet again — that you maintain control of me by fucking my ass off — with very pleasing regularity, I'm utterly delighted to say. My only interest is constantly wondering which of my terribly ravaged openings will be my master's next choice to impale. But I must say, I was rather miffed. Although she inspected my cunt and my asshole very carefully, she didn't even see the marks of my ravishment. But she did have the nerve to volunteer to stand in my stead. That created a small problem. Matilda is a truly beautiful woman. This I know because we spent a good deal of time together naked working out on my equipment and swimming. At any rate, she asked if there was any way that she could be serviced by you. When she left, she was offering to give us all of eastern Slobovia if you would only service her. (She has a luscious, if rather capacious, cunt, too.) I replied that the only way we could consider that would be if she became our slave. Then to show her what slavery entailed, I sent for the pony cart. Going out into the courtyard, we found Leila and Gilbert in harness waiting for us. As you know, darling, they are expected to act like horses, and Leila really does. While they were standing there waiting, several small children were playing with the bells hanging from her nipples. Although she said nothing, she would shake her torso occasionally to cause them to jingle, evoking cries of delight from the children. She stands there with her wrists bound together and attached at the back of her neck to the leather collar she wears. This, of course, forces her breasts up and out. Coupled with the pony tail attached to the dildo in her ass and the tassel she wears on her head, it is quite impressive. To give Matilda the full flavor of Leila's slavery, I led her to a horse trough where she lowered her face into it and drank heartily. (It seemed that her keepers had forgotten to water her that morning.) I led her around the courtyard, and she performs exactly as she has been trained with her knees coming up so high she prances rather than walks. Leila is now so used to being a pony, she even urinated unconcernedly on the ground when I returned her to the cart. Incidentally, she is now utterly gorgeous! In the intervening months, she has lost probably eighty pounds or more; I would guess her weight now to be only about 100 pounds or so. Anyway, before getting into the cart, Matilda carefully inspected her, paying particular attention to her perforated nipples with the golden rings and bells hanging from them. But what she really focused on were the two brands on Leila's flanks. Now that they are fully healed, the entire royal court of arms stands out as if engraved in her flesh. The visible detail is quite remarkable. She whispered to me, "This pony's flesh is incredibly smooth. But those brands!... I've never seen anything so deep." I told her how it was necessary for me to literally put out the fire the branding iron had ignited on her flesh. One thing puzzles me, though, my darling. Her legs and lower body are now smoothly muscular from all the exercise of pulling the cart. But her upper body is the same way. Where does that come from, I wonder? The two of us got in the cart, and I lashed Leila with the whip. (I forgot to mention that her back and shoulders are not smooth. There are dozens of cuts in various degrees of healing resulting from her being repeatedly lashed with the whip.) At any rate, we went out through the gate and took a short ride. I guess it wasn't much more than ten miles, with Leila and Gilbert running the whole way. Of course, after less than a mile I had to lash Gilbert repeatedly — his body is a mess of welts and cuts — to keep him moving. It's nearly impossible to get him to keep his head up high the way Leila's always carries hers, or to raise his knees appropriately. By the time we returned to the castle, he was sagging in harness, while Leila looked like she could have gone twice as far. When we got out, I had Matilda feel Gilbert's still-large cock. Her eyebrows raised and she shook her head sadly when she realized that he no longer had any balls to go with it, though. Believe it or not, when Matilda left, she was still considering my offer seriously. To review, in return for Eastern Slobovia, Matilda will be branded, have her nipples pierced, and will serve as our slave, displacing Gilbert as a pony. The requirement is for her to serve in this capacity for at least one month out of every three. In return, you will service her at least once during each visit although I think I can negotiate around that one — I don't care to share you with anyone! She understands, however, that being a pony, she will only be serviced from the rear while she is still standing. However, I did relent enough to allow her to be serviced while bent over a hitching rail. She is considering our generous offer. ------- Chapter 15 Katherine... Kate, something must be done! Who is the monarch around here, you or me? (Don't you dare answer!) No sooner do we finish the discussion of the Conference and Slobovia, when there was a commotion in the antechamber. Do you just leave the matter to our staff? You? Hah! Leaving your scarcely-touched breakfast, you hurry to the door and summon the chamberlain. (In whose eyes you now rank above the saints, and possibly above the angels and archangels, too!) Moments later — and obviously against his better judgment — a family is ushered in. Do you remain seated in queenly fashion by my side? Do you await the homage of our subjects? You? Hah! Seeing the family ushered in, you're out of your seat in a flash and taking the woman into your arms. When she tries to fall to her knees in the presence of her sovereign, you will not allow it. Instead you accompany them to the table and call for comfortable chairs to be brought over. It is a family of five, the Wallaces, the farm family whose lives you saved last winter. More correctly, it is the Wallace family of four, along with Susan Hastings, Duchess of the North, now looking utterly exquisite and fully recovered from her near-death experience. Although you call for food to be served, before anything can be brought out, Jean Wallace is out of her chair, around the table, and kneeling on the floor between us. "Your Majesties," she said softly, "I am just in time. The baby had a bottle this morning instead of nursing at my tit so I could be sure my breasts would be heavy with milk when I arrived. Just feel!" With that, she opened her cloak and revealed her bare upper body. And you, Kate? Did you scream and order her from the room? Did you call for the guards to have her thrown in the dungeons for having the temerity to bare her bosom to her king? Did you? Hell, no! You exclaim, "How incredibly luscious!" Then you carefully weigh her heavy milk-laden tits in your hands, look up at Jean's face and ask, "May I?" The girl is so thrilled, all she can do is eagerly nod her head. Wasting no time, you take a nipple into your mouth. It's obvious to me you did a lot more than just drink. Poor Jean had to hold on to the backs of our chairs to keep from collapsing. I can only conclude you kissed her nipple, tongued it, and gently nibbled on it while still drinking from it. After a number of minutes, you raised your head and licked some of her milk from your lips. "What did you do, Jean?" you asked. "Never have I tasted anything so sweet or so rich!" "Oh, Mistress!" the girl exclaimed. "It worked! I've been experimenting with my diet ever since Bob decided that the time has come to bring Susan here to the castle. When I nursed you last time, I was just out of my sickbed; my milk couldn't have tasted very good. I wanted it to be ever so sweet today for your coffee and cereal. Am I in time? Or is it already too late?" "It certainly is not too late!" you exclaim. Do you let it go at that? You? Hah! You order a fresh pot of our finest Columbian coffee, then carefully milk her tit into each of the four cups. Then you add it to cereal for all seven of us! (But I have to admit it was truly memorable. Never have I tasted sweeter, richer milk!) But that still doesn't excuse you for overriding the castle staff. We can't have every stray urchin coming in to see us, after all. Oh! There's one more thing: Kate, I adore you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me or to our kingdom. (You notice, I said "our kingdom." More accurately, I guess I should have said "your kingdom.") Kate, I really do love you more than life itself. Accordingly, I thought it only fair to tell you we are going to be married a week from Saturday. I thought you might want to get a new dress or something. ------- First of all, thank you, Master, for using my correct name, Kate. As for overriding the castle staff, how else could we ever know what's going on in the kingdom? (In this connection, to avoid any unpleasantness, I have left standing orders that anyone wishing to see us is to be admitted immediately.) We're being married? Thanks a hell of a lot for letting me know. I guess you could have told me the day of the ceremony, though. But after all, I am only a slave, so what else should I expect? Speaking of slaves, I must tell you about Leila and Susan. First, as you may or may not know, Gilbert is no longer with us. It seems that Betty and Tom Murphy have bought a farm and are using Gilbert as their beast of burden. Betty tells me that Gilbert broke very easily to the harness and the plow; his time as a pony has stood him in good stead. As a result, Leila now pulls the pony cart alone. Because of her diminutive size, though, its carrying capacity is now substantially reduced. However, Susan Hastings (the Duchess of the North), simply loves it. Every day, Leila is harnessed and Susan drives her out through the gate right after breakfast. Normally, they don't return until sundown. After seeing this happen for several days in a row, I made up my mind to follow them. I ordered Satan saddled and followed Leila and Susan out of the castle. First of all, I must speak to Susan. She's much too free with the whip. She seems to delight in cracking it over every inch of Leila's body that she can reach. But anyway, I followed them. There were two remarkable things about the trip out. First, they went out almost ten miles — quite a distance for a small woman to pull that cart alone. But second was the speed with which Leila pulled it. Regardless of the whip cracking over her body, she maintained a steady pace for the entire distance with her knees coming up high at every step, I should add. Believe it or not, Master, the pace was even a trot for Satan as we followed them. And you know how big he is, and how long his stride is. Nonetheless, that's what Leila did. The real surprise was what happened next. Somehow, the two had found a swift-flowing stream that went over a small waterfall into a little lake below. It was to this lake with a lovely little glade beside it that they went. The whole area is surrounded by trees and invisible from only a few feet away. When I realized they had reached their destination, I left Satan in a nearby meadow filled with lush spring grass and crept closer to the two women. Because it is so densely wooded, I was able to approach to within a few feet. As a result, I could clearly hear everything that was said, and see everything that was done. What I saw and heard amazed me. First, when Susan reined Leila to a halt, the woman was sweating profusely. Although it wasn't very hot, it was a warm day, the sun was quite hot... and she had just run almost ten miles! The first thing Susan did was to release Leila from her harness and detach the bells from her nipple rings. Very gently, she eased the dildo from Leila's ass and removed her headdress. Then she carefully kissed every new whip mark she had just put on her body. Finally, she took Leila into her arms. Leila held the slender girl tightly and the two just melted their lips together. Only then did I realize the full perfection of Leila's body. That woman is now utterly exquisite! Hand in hand, they went to the bank of the little lake and dove in. For the next thirty minutes or so, the two just frolicked in the water... with Leila teaching Susan how to swim. (I guess I forgot to mention that, before doing anything else, Susan had stripped off all of her own clothing and left it in the cart.) As far as swimming goes, Leila moves through the water like a porpoise. She is utterly incredible! After retrieving some things left on the bank, they went under the waterfall, which they used as a shower. Each soaped the other's body and shampooed each other's hair. After rinsing in the cold water — that waterfall is really cold! I found that out later when I took a shower under it myself — the two went back to the glade and soaked up the sun. That wasn't the end of the surprises, though. Leila then coached Susan in how to walk, how to talk, how to stand... in short, how to be a lady. And she has very high standards that she wouldn't bend a millimeter. If Susan whipped Leila on the run out, Leila drove the young girl all day long without letup. Remember, Master, Susan is only twelve years old. With her brilliant blue eyes and golden hair, she will become a woman whose beauty will rival our own Julia's. Her training continued for over an hour. Then Leila retrieved a basket from the cart, and the two had a picnic lunch. But Susan's training continued, this time focused on manners at the table. The girl is obviously very bright and soaked it all in. Then the two lay down on a blanket for a nap. The first thing that Susan did was to kiss Leila's nipples which are very hard due to the rings through them, then kissed each of the brands on her flanks. Susan then lay with her head on Leila's shoulder while the older woman just caressed her body lightly. Just before falling asleep, Susan murmured, "Leila, I adore you! Never have I felt this way since my parents were killed. I love you like my mother... except I honestly believe I love you more!" When she fell asleep, her head was on Leila's right shoulder, while her arm was over Leila's body with her hand on Leila's left tit. (Fortunately, I had had the foresight to bring some food, too. After eating, I, too, took a nap.) Awakening from their nap, the two played together and Leila continued her instruction. Finally, Susan put Leila's harness back on, and the woman returned to being an animal. She maintained the same pace returning as she had on the way out. Along with everything she did in the glade, that woman ran twenty miles! Incidentally, I later found out how Leila was able to build up her upper body. There is ventilating equipment here in the castle normally powered by very large electric motors. However, some time ago it was modified to permit it to be human-powered in the event of an emergency. There are large cranks that can be turned manually. They are used to punish recalcitrant prisoners. Anyway, I learned that several months ago Leila turned herself in to the torturer who runs it and told him that she had been sentenced to four hours a day for weeks. She served every night after what passes for a slave's supper. I learned it quite by accident; the torturer asked me what she had done to earn such a severe punishment. Normally, he said, a person is sentenced to fifteen minutes on the machine; occasionally to thirty. Once, he remembers a male prisoner was sentenced to one hour, but that was for killing another inmate. Never had a person served four hours before, let alone four hours for weeks on end. Finally, he noted that Leila never complained and never whimpered, in spite of the muscles in her arms, shoulders, and upper back constantly bulging from the strain. That's how she became so muscular. But what did she do, dear master, to deserve such punishment? You never said a word to me about it. Oh, I nearly forgot. I love you, too... I guess. At least I love you more than breathing, and so, when you stop breathing, I will, too, within seven days. I just thought you might like to know. See you at the wedding. ------- Chapter 16 Katherine, I've about had it with you! First, the wedding! My darling, was it really necessary to appear in church before the archbishop himself... naked! (And I know what you're going to say, but that white veil you had on your head doesn't count as clothing!) And Julia, too, wearing only the little pale blue veil... Although I must confess you looked ravishing. Or is it ravished? If I remember correctly, we had a number of fuck sessions on the morning of our wedding... and even a quicky a few minutes before leaving for the church. I must confess, though, that the archbishop and I seemed to be the only ones in the entire church who were at all upset by your appearance. Reluctantly, I have to admit that the explanation you gave me at the reception — our people are most used to seeing you and Julia naked in their homes — did make a certain amount of sense. But then, my darling, was it really necessary to interrupt the archbishop in the middle of the ceremony? Was it? I mean... after all... it was such a trivial thing. When he asked you, "Do you, Katherine, take this man..." did you really have to interrupt and tell him your name was Kate? And then your additional explanation was really uncalled for. When you promised to love, honor, and obey me, did you really need to pause and explain that, because you were a slave after all, you had no other choice but to obey me. But you really did it to me on our honeymoon! My darling, I'm supposed to be the hunter, not you. While I certainly admit that your idea of spending three months alone naked on a tropic island was interesting, and in the event, wonderful, did you have to show me up with your hunting prowess? Did you? But before I really get to that, you must first answer a question: Why was it so different making love to you after we were married? Why did it seem that your vagina was virginal? And, for that matter, where did the blood on the sheet come from? It certainly wasn't your period. What was the resistance I felt inside you when I penetrated for the first time? Why did you let out that little scream of pain? If I didn't know better, I would almost swear I was making love to a virgin. But back to our honeymoon. My darling, it was truly an experience I will never forget. As beautiful as you have always been, your former beauty pales into insignificance against your appearance now. Your glorious hair has been bleached by the sun and salt water to the most incredible shade of copper-tinted gold. Your emerald eyes have never been brighter. And your body! A deep golden satin over the most powerful muscles ever seen on a woman. During our time alone together, although we were always naked, you always seemed to arrange it so your thigh was blocking my clear view of your lovely pussy, or your glorious hair might be masking one of your tiny but luscious pink nipples — which are always erect, by the way. And in spite of being the only humans on our island, you constantly worked on your body and your appearance to be even more beautiful. I must confess to spying on you occasionally. Almost inevitably I would find you using the crystal-clear water of our waterfall-fed pond as a mirror. I watched you using two clam shells to pluck stray hairs from your eyebrows... and from your cunt. I watched you using sand to remove any trace of stubble from your incredible legs and underarms. And at least twice a week you shaved me with that razor-sharp knife you brought with us. But back to your hunting. Not only did you build an island-wide network of braided hanging vines, you used them to hunt with incredible effect. Whether swimming in our lagoon or running on our island, regardless of what the creature might be, and regardless of its size relative to yours, if you wanted it, you killed it effortlessly. But was it really necessary to switch after six weeks to running down the game on foot? My darling, I really don't know how you do it, but clearly you can run for miles and swim for miles as well. And if it weren't for my ability to still rule you with my cock, I would be very concerned. But what do you have to say for yourself? ------- My darling husband and master, what is there for me to say? As for the blood, truly I believe that God answered my prayer. My love, you know — or maybe you don't — that prior to my kidnaping, I was a virgin. Vividly I remember being sandwiched between my two loves — you and Julia — and telling of my memories of being raped while aboard the ship taking me away from Texass. And of course you're very familiar with my forced prostitution while enslaved at the Golden Bear. Anyway, I prayed to God to restore my virginity for my beloved husband. From the pain, the tightness of my vagina, and the blood on the bed, I can only conclude that He did. As for the rest, I felt — and still feel — that I must do everything possible to maintain my attractiveness to you. After all, my darling master, since I'm no longer a virgin, I must do something to maintain your interest. Beyond everything else, though, my darling, I must thank you for giving me the ultimate honeymoon. Never have two people had so much fun! And, my darling, it truly was fun. For I discovered that the man that I married not only has the largest, most inexhaustible cock in the world, he also has an incredible sense of humor and playfulness. I can't tell you how utterly delighted I was when you would chase me over my network of vines until we reached what seemed to you to be an attractive spot. Then, regardless of what I might do, you would catch me, hold me with only one arm while swinging with the other and then take me on the ground. And you talk about my muscles! My darling, have you looked in a mirror lately? You are an Adonis... but with a much larger cock and a far larger cum-filled sac. While I'm on the subject, your blonde hair has been bleached to a white gold. Your blue eyes are utterly brilliant. And your tan! You are tanned to a medium walnut! (And I will be the envy of the Reigning Monarchs' Wives Club! I have the only husband with a deeply tanned cock!) But then we returned home... ------- Chapter 17 Riding side by side, as we neared the castle, we both began to notice disturbing signs. Initially, my darling, I didn't know what we were seeing. But as we drew nearer, my eyes flared. I was seeing unmistakable signs of a siege or battle. As we drew closer to the castle we encountered burial parties working. Now there was no mistake. After an exchange of glances, we put our heels to our mounts, whispered to them, and in an instant the horses were flying. Mounted on those two magnificent coal-black steeds, and with your magnificent hair flowing free in the wind, we were instantly recognized by the guard on the tower. With our horses running at their top speed, we could still hear the blare of trumpets and then see the drawbridge coming down, while the portcullis behind slowly rose out of the way. Neither of us even slowed down. Our two mounts — Satan and Satana, as usual — thundered over the bridge and then came to sliding stops in the courtyard beyond. Glancing to the side, I could see you were doing the same thing I was doing: looking all over for signs of damage. There were none. We shared sighs of relief as we saw our darling Julia, wearing a lovely white gown, standing beside Betty Murphy. I guess we both thought that if Julia and Betty were all right, there was nothing seriously amiss. Troops of the Queen's own were drawn up at parade, but they were under the command of Ensign Morrison! But looking closer, I realized he was wearing the insignia of a captain. What had happened to Major Fletcher? Dropping to the ground, we both acknowledged Morrison's salute and then inspected the troops, accompanied by him and Tom Murphy. (Another fear allayed!) The troops were most impressive and smartly turned out, although there were very neat patches showing on many of the uniforms. Connecting this with the burial details beyond the walls, it was obvious that there had been a major battle. As I started to breathe again — and I could see that you were breathing again, too — Julia ran up to us as we left the courtyard and hurled herself into your arms. After a kiss that had enough electricity to light our kingdom for a year, she came into my arms and melted me with a kiss just like it. Just as I was about to relax, I was stunned when Julia said, "Daddy, you must do something! Leila Jones is in prison charged with high treason!" ------- It was the following morning, my darling husband, and we were sitting side by side on our thrones in the Great Hall now set up as a courtroom. Quite honestly, I was scared to death. In the few short weeks between our first encounter with Leila Jones at our ball and our wedding, I had developed a deep respect for the woman. Clearly, she had changed dramatically from my first meeting and enslavement to her. Now we were just waiting. Guards were posted throughout the hall, which was quite bare. With its three-story-high ceiling, and giant tapestries hanging from the stone walls it was most imposing. A railing had been erected across the hall behind which the spectators sat. Surprisingly — to me at least — the room was packed. Every seat was filled, as well as all the standing room. There was just an aisle from the main doors to the railing separating us from the crowd, with only a single low stool or bench placed before us. Because of the seriousness of the day, there were no trumpeters. At the appointed time, the doors in the rear were opened and two guards marched in. They were followed by the prisoner, Leila Jones, and then two more guards. The four guards were armed with halberds and broadswords. Because of the size of the guards, I was unable to get a good look at Leila until they passed through the gate and approached the small stool. Only then did I realize that poor Leila was in chains. Steel manacles had been forged around her wrists and ankles. Her wrists were chained closely together while there was just enough chain between her two ankle irons to permit her to walk with very small, mincing steps. Another length of heavy chain connected her wrists to her ankle chains. Incredibly, after she was seated on the small stool, I saw her thank the guards for their courtesy. Then, my darling, my love for you leaped even higher. "Guards!" you ordered majestically, "remove the chains from this woman." To say I was confused by what followed would be the mildest statement I could make. Incredibly, while Leila started to protest, the guards appeared to be delighted to receive such an order. In just a few moments the chains had been removed and two of the guards withdrew to the rear of the hall. The other two took positions one pace behind where Leila was seated, and flanking her on both sides. Now that she was seated alone, I had my first opportunity to look at her closely. She was wearing a heavy, very coarse dark garment that was utterly shapeless. It was more like a cloak than anything else and reached down well below her knees. It was laced up to her neck from a point just above her waist. Because of the crudity and shapelessness of the garment, it highlighted her face and features. My darling, I was utterly stunned. Leila Jones was now the most beautiful woman in the whole world! While formerly her face was bloated and puffy with fat, now it was beautifully heart shaped, with a very deep and lovely tan. Her eyes — her lovely brilliant gray eyes — appeared to be far larger than before, now that her face was no longer fat. Her nose was small and straight, and her lips were full and red. Only then did I realize that her hair, which had been long enough to reach the small of her back, was now very short. It was now in an urchin's cut which strangely heightened her beauty. With her hair now so short, her lovely little ears were full visible and were incredibly feminine as they lay close against her head. Pounding your gavel on the bench in front of us you initiated the proceedings. "What are the charges against this prisoner?" you asked. "Who is preferring them?" To my stunned amazement, Leila rose from her stool. Standing with her back erect she said clearly, "The charges begin with high treason, Your Majesty. But they include dereliction of duty, public fornication, and many more." Although it seemed impossible, she held her head up even straighter and added, "I am preferring the charges, Your Majesty, and with your permission will prosecute the case." My darling, I can't tell you how proud I was of you at that instant. You glanced at me, almost imperceptibly shook your head, and quickly rolled your eyes. The whole series took but an instant. To Leila you said, "Who is defending the case?" "There is no defense, sire," she replied. "Nor can there be one—" "But there must be!" you interrupted. "Miss Jones, you are accused of a capital crime. But before I continue, tell me something: In your opinion, what would be an appropriate sentence of this court should you be found guilty?" "I should be whipped continually for at least forty-eight consecutive hours. Sire, you can use shifts of torturers... No!" She shook her head vehemently and began again, "I misspoke. The whipping must take place in eight-hour segments, with eight hours off for me to truly savor the pain which feels like white-hot wires scoring my body wherever they land. This whipping must continue until all the skin has been flayed off my body. "At that time, I will be taken to the public square and hung. But rather than the normal dropping of a trap door, I will be hauled up by a rope around my neck so that my death comes from slow strangulation. Then my body will be drawn and quartered. One quarter of my remains will hang from each of the four corners of the castle until my bones dry up and fall into the moat. This will serve as an example to anyone else who contemplates high treason in this kingdom, Your Majesty." I could see you were about to vomit as she carefully laid out her punishment. But then you asked, "Have you suffered any punishment in the meantime, Miss Jones?" "Scarcely any at all, Your Majesty," she replied, "and I'm very glad you brought the subject up. Your torturers are a bunch of wimps. All of them! I turned myself in at the prison with instructions that I be given 100 lashes. All I got were about thirty! Would you believe it? There was not a single torturer in the kingdom who would give me any more. No one! I couldn't believe it. Now, Your Majesty, what are you going to do about that? How can you possibly maintain order in your kingdom with castle torturers who are so wimpy, they can't even beat an ugly little fat girl?" "Miss Jones, without addressing your basic complaint," you replied, "I would merely ask if you have looked at yourself in a mirror lately? Have you?" I was ready to cheer, my darling! You took her all aback. She was dumbfounded by your remark. Did you let it go? Did you move on? Not my beloved darling. You repeated, "Have you looked in a mirror, Miss Jones?" "No, Your Majesty. But what can that possibly have to do with anything? I am charged with high treason! Why are you wasting time like this?" "I will ignore your outburst, Miss Jones. But for the third time, have you looked in a mirror?" The poor girl was crushed. Her body sagged a bit as she replied, "No, Sire, I have not. But why did you ask?" "Because if you had, Miss Jones, you would have learned that you are one of the most beautiful women in my entire kingdom. 'Fat' was one term you applied to yourself." You just shook your head and continued, "Although your body is covered by that... that... shapeless garment, I can tell by looking at your arms and legs that you are quite slender. I can trust the evidence of my own eyes with respect to 'ugly.' While I prefer my beloved queen's emerald green, your gray eyes are incredibly lovely. Your skin is like golden velvet. Your hair coloring — every shade imaginable from medium brown through gold, to platinum — is incredibly beautiful. And it has magnificent natural body and wave. No, Miss Jones, you are neither fat nor ugly." You paused and then raised your voice to address the entire crowd. "Is there anyone present this morning who will undertake to defend Miss Jones against these charges?" At that point, Julia arose from her seat in the front row and came through the gate. "Beloved father, I will defend Miss Jones." Julia was utterly magnificent in a very simple dark blue gown that accented the blue of her eyes. Before you could respond, Betty Murphy joined Julia and said, "I will defend Miss Jones, Your Majesty. There is a story here that must be told!" A murmur swept the courtroom. While you were waiting for it to die down, Susan Hastings appeared. "I will defend Leila Jones," the young girl said. "I must, Your Majesty, and you must allow it! She is my mother." Then she ran to Leila, lifted the girl from her stool, spun her around, and in an instant had untied the laces gathering Leila's garment and allowed it to drop from her shoulders, exposing her upper body. Leila's whole back was a mass of bleeding cuts from the whip. "Just look!" she exclaimed. Then she spun Leila around to face us again and added, "And look!" Whip marks scored her breasts and shoulders. At that instant, my darling, I had to look away. I could taste the bile in my mouth as I was about to vomit. The woman was bleeding from myriad deep cuts in her body that were further irritated by the roughness of the burlap material of the garment she was wearing. It only took a moment for Susan to very carefully reposition the garment on Leila's body and lace it up again. The girl exercised the greatest care to try to avoid irritating Leila's wounds any more than she could possibly avoid. After seating Leila on her stool again, Susan continued, "That is why the torturers would give her no more lashes. They would have killed her and they knew it. But my mother is too damned dumb to know what she was doing to herself. Can you believe it?" Spinning to look down at Leila, she demanded, "Now what is this nonsense about high treason? What did you do to commit high treason?" "I consorted with the enemy," Leila replied softly. "I brazenly bared my small body to give them a cheap thrill." She paused and then added wryly, "With the combination of my diminutive size and my plain features, it was a very cheap thrill, indeed." You and I exchanged quick glances. From being ugly by her own estimation, Leila had now graduated all the way up to "plain." After exchanging glances, Julia motioned to a guard who brought up three more stools and set them behind Leila. The two guards, responding to your signal, withdrew to the rear of the courtroom. It was clear that the two older girls were content to let Susan Hastings continue in spite of her being only twelve years old. "Tell me about your dereliction of duty," Susan asked softly, but not so softly that her voice could not be heard. Indeed, the girl had the vocal ability to project her voice to the far corners of the room without having to raise it. Darling, I found myself wondering if this was another thing she had learned from Leila. (It was, by the way.) "For more than three weeks, shortly after Their Majesties left on their honeymoon..." Leila paused, looked directly at me, and interjected, "May I say that never in my life have I seen two more gorgeous human beings than our king and queen. Before your wedding I was convinced that Her Majesty was the most beautiful woman on earth. But now... ?" She paused and slowly shook her head. "Words fail me. Compared to her appearance today, her prior appearance could almost be described as exceptional ugliness. Not only does she have the most glorious tan I have ever seen, but she positively radiates happiness. This is in addition to God's divine grace that utterly floods her body and which she has always conveyed." The girl stood up straight, and I saw a tell-tale wince as the coarse fibers of her garment cut into her body. Then she shouted, "Three cheers for Their Majesties! Hip, hip..." There was a thunderous cheer from everyone present, which was then repeated twice more. (Honestly, my darling, at that moment I was very glad that the walls of the Great Hall are feet thick, and made of heavy steel-reinforced stone. With those thunderous cheers, it needed every bit of its structural strength to keep from coming down around our ears!) Susan had joined in the cheering. When it finally died down, she resumed her questioning. "Miss Jones, we were talking about dereliction of duty. In what way did you fail?" "In what way did I not?" Leila exclaimed. "There are dozens of duties for the palace slaves. Since I am the only one at present, they all fall to me. None of them were done for the whole period I was away." "And what were you doing?" Susan asked. "I... I... I was entertaining myself," Leila replied. "I was doing absolutely nothing of any possible value to Their Majesties. I was just enjoying myself," she repeated with her nose high in the air. At that point Susan turned her attention to you, my darling. "Your Majesty, a point of information: I am Duchess of the North." At that statement, there was a hushed gasp from the crowd. This was news, although Susan was certainly well known to them. She continued, "Moreover, since I am only twelve years old and a minor, am I not a ward of the Crown?" "Indeed you are, Your Grace," you replied in your most judicious tone. "Miss Jones has just testified that she did nothing of any value to you." She paused for dramatic effect and then asked, "As a ward of the Crown, Sire, does saving my life have any value to you?" She grinned and added with the cutest little giggle, "Of course, had I died, there are no heirs. So I guess the property of the duchy would have reverted to you. Are you sure saving my life would have value?" "Susan Hastings, you are one of the most beautiful young women in this kingdom. And I say this as I look at Crown Princess Julia, our daughter, whom I adore and who I think is the most beautiful woman in all of creation, except for her divine mother, my wife and queen, of course. "You, young lady, are Julia's younger identical twin. Does that answer your question? And with regard to your lands and property, we not only don't need it, we don't want it! My luscious wife is also Chancellor of the Exchequer, as well you know. She is also the most effective such chancellor in the world. As a result, we are being buried under mountains of money. No, darling Susan, I am certain that saving your life has great value to the kingdom. But why did you ask such a question?" "Because, Sire, shortly after you left, I came down with both a serious contagious disease and a rare blood infection. Possibly the former caused the latter, but no one knows. What I do know are two things: First, not only was there no treatment, but because of the contagion, no one would even try to treat it... except my mother. Leila Jones — my mother! — had herself hitched to the pony cart and had me placed on a pallet in it. She then ran the fifty miles to my ducal palace. There she cared for me and nursed me back to health. "I said she cared for me," the girl repeated. Now with tears streaming from her eyes she continued, "You'll never guess the form that care took, either. And until now, there were only two people alive that really know what happened: my mother and me. She knew that the blood in my body was infected. So do you know what she did? Each day — for five successive days! — she put a tube in a vein in my left arm and let my blood pour out into a basin. At the same time, she had another tube connecting a vein in her left arm to another vein in my right and replaced my draining blood with her own." Susan had to pause as her tears overcame her. In an instant Julia was beside her, holding the girl close and comforting her. I could see that it was all Leila could do to remain seated, since she so desperately wanted to comfort this beautiful girl, her daughter. Finally regaining control, Susan eased away from Julia and returned to her story. "Sire," she said, "each day she drained six pints of my blood and replaced it with six pints of her own. Please remember, though, that at my age I only have about six pints. My mother? The most she can have is eight! But just think: she is only five feet tall and weighs a scant 95 pounds. Although she cannot have more than eight pints of blood, she could easily have less. But she gave me six pints a day for five successive days! And each day it was the same thing. When she finished transfusing me, she disconnected the tubes and looking as pale as a ghost, fainted... undoubtedly from loss of blood. She should have died, but somehow — God's Divine intervention, perhaps — she did not." With an almost superhuman effort, Susan was able to control her tears. Continuing her story she said, "Is that all? My mother? Ha! When she recovered consciousness, she would crawl from the room on her hands and knees. Why? She couldn't even stand up, let alone walk, she was so weak. But she went to the kitchen and made pots of chicken soup. Then she crawled back up to the room, dragging the soup kettle behind her. Then the two of us would pig out on chicken broth. After changing the bed — I was sweating like a pig from the fever — she crawled in beside me and cradled me to her breast. "Periodically, she would go to the bathroom and return with cool cloths that she would lay over my forehead. Then, when the fever turned to chills as it did with monotonous regularity, she would cover my body with her own so that I could absorb some of her body heat. Then after five days — and 30 pints of her blood! — the fever passed. It took another five days or so before Mom could even stand up, and the rest of the time to more fully recover. After all, she had to bring me back to the palace in the pony cart, and she really wasn't in great shape to run fifty miles! Fifty miles!" she repeated. "Please remember, Sire, that a marathon is only 28 miles. She ran — yes, ran! — almost twice the distance of a marathon while pulling a cart with me in it with a combined weight at least twice her own. "But is that all she did?" Susan asked rhetorically. "My mom? Not hardly. For the last ten days or so she was back to her accustomed rôle of slave driver... with me as the slave." Then she really grinned. With her tears gone, it was like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. The girl truly beamed. "What does she drill me on? What she doesn't do would be a far shorter list. The way I stand, the way I sit, the way I walk, the way I talk. My handwriting, every academic subject imaginable..." The girl just shook her head. "And do you know something else? She will not accept anything other than excellence. Sire, I drafted a congratulatory letter to you and our beloved queen on the occasion of your wedding. After thirty-seven drafts, she finally approved it, would you believe? Thirty-seven drafts! Anyway, I have it with me. May I just give it to you and save the postage? My hand is so tired, I'm not sure I could even affix a stamp!" With that the girl came up to the bench and presented us with a parchment scroll. When unrolled, it proved to be the most beautifully written document either of us had ever seen. Meanwhile, Susan had returned to her place beside Leila. Addressing us again she said, "Please remember, Your Majesty, the immortal line from the Gospel of Saint John, 'Greater love hath no man than he who lays down his life for a friend.' If I may, I would like to modify it somewhat: 'Greater love hath no woman than she who lays down her life for her daughter.' That woman is Leila Jones, and the daughter is me. And I am her daughter. Please keep in mind that every drop of blood now flowing through my veins is hers. I am her daughter. She is my mother. Please dismiss the charge of dereliction of duty." Your response, my darling, was to soberly nod. But before adjourning for lunch, I asked a question myself: "Miss Jones, I remember your hair as being long. What happened to it?" My darling husband, I just knew I should have kept my big mouth shut. I really didn't want to hear the answer. But you know, far better than most, what an utter impossibility it is for me to keep my big mouth shut. "I hacked it off, Your Majesty, so that the torturer's whips wouldn't get caught in it. And I certainly don't want the executioner to have trouble fitting the noose over my head," she replied. Then Leila added, "As it is, I sincerely hope he doesn't waste too much expensive rope hanging me, either." As I said, darling, I should have kept my big mouth shut. But then you have been telling me the same thing for months, haven't you? ------- Chapter 18 My darling bride, there are no words I can say to express my gratitude for your support during the trial. There is absolutely no way I could have managed without you. If I live 1,000 years, I will always remember your hand gripping mine, your winks, your nods of encouragement, your wisdom and your humanity. Frankly, Kate (I give up! You are my darling Queen Kate.), I used to think that the greatest day of my life was the day you appeared before me for the first time. Now I realize it was just the beginning. Every time I think you could not be better, you are! My darling, you are my whole life. I cannot live without you. Now that the mush is out of the way, Kate, what am I doing for a living? I no sooner adjourn the court for lunch — it was only eleven-thirty — when you go to Leila. Seeing her sitting patiently on her stool waiting for the guards to return her to her dungeon cell, you call the guards. Then, without even a glance at me, you order a blacksmith to appear at once to strike off her wrist manacles and ankle fetters. The guard retreats and a few moments later returns with the blacksmith carrying his portable anvil and tools. In the meantime, Leila had been merely watching. I guess she hadn't really been paying attention, while she thought about the delicious(?) food that would be served to the prisoners. (Come to think of it, they are fed only twice a day, in the morning and evening. I guess she wasn't thinking of the food after all.) When she started to protest, you merely raised an eyebrow and asked, "Slave Leila, what is a slave's primary duty?" "To please her master and mistress," she replied automatically. "Thank you," you replied. "It will please me for your bonds to be removed." To the blacksmith, now standing there waiting, you imperiously command, "See to it at once!" The guard made one last effort. "Your Majesty, we will only have to put them on again this evening. Are you sure you want them removed?" "What does she need them for when she's in a jail cell?" you asked. The poor man was obviously confused. "But... but... there are no cells, Majesty." Now it's your turn to be confused. "If there are no cells, where is she kept?" "Along with all of the other prisoners," the guard replied. To him it was the only place for her to be. Clearly, he had no understanding of your line of questioning. "You mean the other female prisoners, don't you?" "Oh, no!" he replied, now becoming visibly upset. "This prisoner is the only woman we have. She's kept with the others." "But if she's chained, how can she go to the bathroom? She's wearing a long garment, after all..." At this point Leila entered the conversation. "Perhaps I can help, Mistress. There's obviously a breakdown in communication. First of all, I am kept naked and chained to the wall." With a little smile toward the guard she continued, "But the guards have been very good to me. There is now enough slack in my wrist chains that I can move to the side when I need to urinate or defecate. The slack is even great enough for me almost to be able to sit on the floor." Now she smiled at you, darling, and added, "It's so much nicer now than it used to be. At first, there was no slack, and I had to remain standing. To make it even worse, I was having my period and it really did bother me to be constantly bleeding in front of all the men." She shrugged and added, "On the other hand, I was standing straddling a pile of my own shit, so I guess I really wouldn't have cared to sit down, anyway." Since we were both close to Leila, I had been aware of an unwashed smell coming from her body. "But what about washing?" you asked. "Every week they hose down the cell," Leila replied, "and they hose down the prisoners, too, at the same time..." "How long have you been imprisoned," you interrupted. "Almost two weeks," she replied. "I was hosed down three days ago and then they lengthened my chains. They are so nice to me!" At that point you turned to me and glared. My darling, there were green icicles in your eyes when you said, "Husband, our prison is going to be rebuilt... starting this afternoon! Hear?" What could I do? I just shrugged and agreed. In the meantime, the blacksmith positioned Leila's manacles on his anvil and with two mighty blows severed them both. Leila was sitting on the stone floor by this time. When she shifted to put one of her slender ankles on the anvil, you got a glimpse of her wrist. Instantly you were on your knees beside her, holding her hand in yours. Honestly, my darling, her hand is exactly like yours — slender with lovely long fingers — except for being smaller. "My darling, look!" you exclaimed, holding up her hand. I was almost sickened as I'm sure you were by the sight of festering sores where the manacles had been attached to her wrists. Her ankles were the same way. With her fetters removed, you led her away toward our apartment. When the guard protested, you brusquely told him that you were taking charge of the prisoner. Accompanied by Susan Hastings and Julia, you went to our bathroom and closed the door in my face... after telling me to advise the appropriate parties that the court was adjourned for the day and would reconvene at ten the following morning. ------- My darling husband, you are truly a prince among men. Instantly, without the need to exchange a word, you knew what I was planning to do. Initially I had intended to put Leila in the baby swimming pool that passes for our bathtub, but as soon as I eased her garment off her body, I realized she was filthy. So instead I led the way into our shower. At this point, husband, I was at a loss. Although we have dozens of shower heads positioned on three of the walls, I was afraid that the spray would be too hard on her torn-up body. While I pondered the problem, Leila asked what was wrong, and I told her. She had been studying the controls, too. Activating the "All Heads" switch, she just went into the shower and let the needle-sharp sprays wash over her body. I quickly moved to join her, followed by Julia and Susan. No sooner am I in the shower than Leila has a bar of my favorite soap and begins to lather my body. Since I am a good eight inches taller than she, she looked up to my face and murmured, "Queen Katherine, you are a wimp!" I tried to raise an eyebrow as I replied, "There are two things wrong with that statement. First, my name is Kate! It is not, repeat not, Katherine. That's Kate: K-A-T-E, Kate. It's short; it's simple, and it's easy for even a no-mind like you to pronounce. Second, as your former slave... For that matter, Leila, did Gilbert ever refund the money you paid for me?" "No, Your Majesty, he did not... That cheating son of a bitch!" With a grin I continued, "Therefore, I'm still your slave, Leila Jones, and you do not call a slave, 'Your Majesty.' Clear? To you, Leila, I am Kate... unless you prefer Dumb Cunt, or..." Leila had no response, so I continued, "And by the way... if you address me by a title or honorific again, something very terrible will happen to you. Understand?" "Yes, Your Majesty," she replied with a quirky grin. "I understand completely." At that point I took the soap from her hand and being as gentle as I could, began to wash her body. "Your Majesty!" she protested. "What are you doing?" "Leila, are you really a retard?" I retorted. "What in hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to get a few layers of filth off your body before I really try to clean it..." "But you can't!" she interrupted. "I am your slave and must wash you..." She slowly shook her head and said to Susan, "My darling, look carefully at our queen... and the crown princess, for that matter. Women cannot possibly look better than they do." Looking up into my eyes she asked, "May Her Grace run her fingers lightly over your body, Majesty?" She paused and then added, "Since she is a noble, too — a duchess — would that be possible?" "Touch away, Susan," I replied. Susan Hastings is already taller than her mother at about five feet five, and still growing. It is probable that she will be about Julia's height — five feet eight — by the time her growing stops. Anyway, the lovely girl came close and very diffidently ran her fingers lightly over my entire body. When she came to my breasts, her touch was as light as a feather. I reminded her that I am not at all breakable and asked her to squeeze my tits. Fearfully, she did as I asked. Then with a beaming smile she exclaimed, "Mommy, our queen's tits are almost as firm as yours!" At that point I pointed out, "Susan, I have instructed your mother to call me Kate. Since you are Duchess of the North, and ward to my husband, the king, and myself. I think it would be appropriate for you to address me as Aunt Kate. Could you bring yourself to do that?" The girl positively beamed with pleasure. "Aunt Kate, nothing could possibly thrill me more! You see, as far as I know, I have no living relatives except for my mother here. I would be utterly overjoyed to call you Aunt Kate!" Then with the cutest little smile she added, "Could Aunt Kate give her newest niece a kiss? A little one, maybe... ?" Taking the girl in my arms, I mashed her slender young body to my own. The instant I did, she began to move against me, trying to maximize the contact of her flesh with mine. My darling, it was utterly fabulous! Our lips met, and I darted my tongue into her mouth. After a little dance, our two tongues met, and there was such a surge of electricity, I almost collapsed. There was joy and love and Divine grace in her kiss. Unbelievable! Finally easing away I could only murmur, "Wow!" "Mommy!" Susan exclaimed. "Aunt Kate kisses with almost as much power and love as you have in your kisses. She's unreal!" At that point I suggested to Julia that she take Susan to the new guest apartment that we had built off our own. "I can take a hint," Julia replied. "You want to be alone with Aunt Leila, don't you?" "Good thinking, Imp!" I replied. After a quick kiss, Julia was out of the shower and leading Susan by the hand. They left a trail of wet footprints as they went through our bedroom and out the door. Turning my attention back to Leila I returned to the subject of washing. "Slave Leila, to rehash old territory, what is a slave's primary duty?" "To make her mistress happy in any way she can," the girl replied. "Fine! And it would make me happy to wash your filthy body. Okay?" Leila just nodded. I began to wash her body as gently as I could. Only then did I realize I hadn't previously noticed that her nipple rings were still in place. I guess I had been too preoccupied with the whip cuts scoring her entire body. Anyway, I ducked out of the shower and then returned with heavy wire cutters that made short work of the soft gold. An instant later I had pried the severed ends apart and removed them from her nipples. Dropping to my knees in the shower, I took each of her nipples in my mouth in turn, kissed, licked and nibbled on them. When I ran my tongue over them, I could easily feel the hole. Through all of this, Leila said absolutely nothing, but then I realized that tears were flowing from her eyes. I just ignored them. It took me four washings with shampoo to get the first layers of dirt from her hair. (Thank God she had cut it. Had she not, it would have taken all day!) Instead of applying conditioner, I led her by the hand out of the shower and out on the new giant terrace that had been built while we honeymooned. There we went into the brand-new sauna. After pouring water on the fiery coals, the small room quickly filled with steam. As sweat began to pour from our bodies, I took a stick and as carefully as I could began to scrape her body. Shaking her head in disgust, Leila commented, "My God! How incredibly filthy! How can you stand to touch me, Your Majesty?" Rather than responding, I continued to work on her until there was little other than new flesh exposed. By this time, both of us were literally dripping sweat on the floor. When I idled down the sauna and opened the door, she grinned and said, "Thank you! I'm smaller than you are, Your Majesty, and most of what little of me there is has already gone down the drain!" I jumped feet-first into our small refrigerated pool and waited. Leila jumped in after me, at which point I popped out. As she was about to follow, I said, "I think you should cool off a little first, Leila. Why don't you just stay in there for a while?" Believe it or not, she did! In fact, she let her body sink so her head was fully submerged and rinsed her hair with her fingers. Finally, I had to grab her arm and haul her out! Holding her hand, I returned to the shower and ran it as hot as I could stand. Then as I hugged the girl close I could feel her uncontrolled shaking as she slowly defrosted. "Why did you stay in that freezing water?" I asked. "Because you told me to," she replied simply. When her body temperature returned to normal, I led her from the shower and ordered her up on a massage table. This was my first real opportunity to work on her body since I had been enslaved to her. What a difference! My darling, her body is even more solidly muscled than my own, if you can believe it! But I also found that she had been feeling tension far beyond what she had been willing to admit. It seemed to take forever to knead the muscle knots from her body, particularly when I tried to avoid as many of the cuts as I could. Then I put antiseptic on her cuts along with pain-killing ointment. When I did, she just sighed with pleasure and wriggled under my fingers. Finally, I finished by working as much musk oil as I could into her luscious body. And truly, Master, Leila Jones' body is luscious! As I was about to lead her out of the bathroom, do you know what she did? She said, "Not so fast, Your Majesty!" Then she imperiously pointed to the massage table. Although I was a bit apprehensive, I climbed on and lay on my back looking up at her. She just slowly shook her head and picked up the musk oil. Using it exclusively, she gave me the massage of my life! Her fingers that had been so sensitive in the shower — she did wash me, finally — were now like steel rods. "What utter perfection!" she murmured. When she finished my front, she rolled me on my belly and worked on my shoulders, arms, thighs and buttocks. She even had the temerity to insist that I pull my knees up under my body to raise my ass. Then she spread my asscheeks and very carefully worked the oil into my asshole! Can you believe it? But is that all? Hell, no! She commented, "It's clear that your husband fucks your ass regularly. I've never seen a woman with such a stretched anal ring." (And she said it. I didn't!) Finally we finished and returned to our bedroom. There I called for Ellie to bring us lunch. When it appeared — two deli-style roast beef sandwiches, and two beers — it was all Leila could do to keep from wolfing hers down. But first she sipped her beer in a rather strange way. Putting the two together, I asked, "When did you eat last? And last have anything to drink?" She had had water the night before — her last drink! — and no food for nearly forty-eight hours. I called Ellie again. In moments she was back with two more sandwiches and a large pitcher of lemonade. I figured — correctly, as it turned out — that Leila could drink that much more easily than she could drink beer. We had been eating at our card table while both of us were still nude. Finally she eased away from the table, put her hand on her now-slightly-rounded belly and said, "That was so good! Thank you so much, Your Majesty!" "You're quite welcome," I replied. "But I promised something very painful would happen if you continued to address me with honorifics. You've done nothing else since but call me 'Your Majesty.' Since my name is Kate, I must take action. Now up against the wall!" Surely, my darling, you remember threatening me with being hung by my hair on the wall of our chamber? Well, there have always been a set of chains attached to the wall, and you even had manacles sized for my slim wrists and ankles. Darling, it seems that hers are as slender as mine, so they snapped on with a perfect fit. Leaving her chained to the wall, I went to our cabinet and took out a big whip... and something else. "If you reverse my chains, Your Majesty, perhaps you might like me standing on my head so you can apply the first twenty strokes or so directly to my cunt," she said. "I'm sure I can stand on my head now, but after thirty or forty strokes, I'm not sure if I still could." "Leila, haven't you always thought that whipping is... rather... crude? And in view of the number of strokes you've already absorbed, it really doesn't seem to have had much effect on your behavior, has it?" Hearing my comment, her eyes widened and she slowly shook her head. What could possibly be worse, she wondered. At that point I dropped the whip and took out the very long feather I had concealed with the whip. Then I began to tickle her all over. At first Leila was amused. Then she started to giggle. Her giggles gave way to laughter, and finally to tears. "Please stop!" she screamed. "I can't take it any more..." "What is my name?" I asked. "Queen Katherine," she replied. I said nothing, but just intensified my tickling. Finally she could take it no more. "Your name is Kate!" she screamed, "K-A-T-E, Kate! It's Kate!" Then she was so overcome with tears she could no longer even talk. Her knees gave way and she just collapsed, now being supported only by the chains on her wrists as her head just lolled on her chest. Quickly, I freed her from the chains and carried her to the bed in my arms. There I just laid her gently down, being as careful as I could with her wounds. After getting in bed beside her, I pulled the covers up to our chins and took her in my arms. At that point I gently kissed her on the lips. Initially, she was passive, but then she slowly came back to life. I could feel the power of her own kiss build until I was almost overcome. Then I asked softly, "Feel better?" She smiled brightly and nodded her head rapidly. "And what's my name?" "Your name is Kate, K-A-T-E, Kate," she repeated. I frowned and said, "It's just plain Kate." Then I tried to look thoughtful — and you certainly know how difficult that is — and said, "I think you need another lesson..." "No more tickling!" she screamed, now frightened out of her wits. "God have mercy! No more. Please..." The poor girl was truly terror-stricken. I assured her I wouldn't tickle her. Instead I ordered her to kneel on the bed beside me and spread her legs wide. This time I began to caress her body. In no time she was purring like a kitten. When my fingers moved down to her cunt, she spread her knees as wide apart as she could and even leaned backwards to open herself up to my fingers and my gaze. I could see her respiration speed up and perspiration start to form droplets on her body. Continuing my caresses, I could see her getting closer and closer to cuming. When she was on the brink of going over, I stopped. By this time Leila's eyes were closed and she was moaning softly. Then when I stopped, she suddenly returned from wherever her mind had taken her and asked, "What's wrong, Kate? Why did you stop?" "Nothing's wrong," I replied. "But why did you ask?" Before she could respond, though, I changed the subject. "Please tell me something, Leila. How could I have been so wrong about you? You are the nicest, brightest, most beautiful woman in the kingdom. Yet I used to think you were an idiot. How could I have been so wrong?" I repeated. "That's an easy question to answer," Leila replied. "Kate, I was an utter horror! In fact, dear Kate, I was the original airhead, if you must know." "But what caused you to change?" I continued. "You did. When I saw you that night at the ball, and later naked in the torture chamber, I began to realize how terrible I had always been and vowed to change." With her eyes large she continued, "Heaven knows, I've tried." She paused and then added, "But it's clear I haven't tried nearly hard enough." Then she straightened her back and said, "That's why I must be executed. I'm worthless." Instead of replying, I went back to working on her body. I took her to her crest far faster the second time, and even faster on the third. By this time I knew her body well enough that I was able to bring her right to her crest and just hold her there, suspended. Finally, she could take it no longer. "For God's sake, Kate!" she screamed. "Finish me off! I can't take it anymore." "Finish you off?" I asked quizzically. "I don't understand. How could I possibly? And what do you mean, anyway?" "I've got to cum!" she screamed. By now tears were flowing down her cheeks, her body was bathed in sweat, and she was shaking uncontrollably. And she was so incredibly beautiful, yet so cute. "But women can't cum," I insisted. "You certainly know that, don't you, Leila?" "If you want to live to see another sunrise," she screamed, "finish me off! I don't care how you do it, Kate, but do it! Now!" "But, darling Leila, you're the slave; I'm the mistress. You can't give orders to me." That was the last straw. The poor girl just crumpled on the bed. Her body doubled up with her tits resting on her thighs and her head between her legs, now close together. Honestly, my darling, I almost began to cry myself. Never in my life have I heard such hopeless-sounding weeping. The girl was utterly destroyed. I eased my hand between her legs and forced them apart far enough to reach her luscious cunt. This time I didn't let up, although she was still doubled up on the bed. When I touched her, though, her initial reaction was to redouble her weeping and valiantly try to keep my hand away. She obviously thought I was going to tease her again. Master, no one has ever tortured that girl the way I just did. Keep in mind the suffering she has endured without a murmur, including having her nipples pierced and being branded twice! The sound of her weeping was the most sorrowful sound I've ever heard in my entire life. I nearly destroyed her. But then I took her up her mountain — that's the way she thought of it — and took her over the crest. Leila came for the first time in her life. In fact, dear master, she spurted! I've heard of it, but never encountered it. When Leila cums, she actually ejaculates love juices in the same way you ejaculate your semen. But since she has no cock to direct it, it comes out in a heavy spray. In just an instant, my hand was soaked with her syrup. But I persevered. She came again, and yet again, and still again. Now she was screaming, but the screams were joyous this time. Initially, she was able to get her body upright. When she did, it exposed her perforated nipples to me; I took the opportunity to caress them and she came again. Because I was close to her by this time, the spray of her cuming took me full in the face. I had to lick it off my face and wipe it from my eyes. (It is truly delicious, too. Sweet as sugar!) As her body was hit by repeated spasms, the muscular development of this small woman became apparent. As strong as I am, it was all I could do to maintain control. Her screams faded to incoherent babbling and finally just gasping sounds as she fought to breathe. When I realized that her continuous orgasm was causing even her diaphragm to spasm, and when I realized she had been in orgasm for nearly thirty minutes, I moved my attention to her clitoris. Her tiny sentinel wasn't so tiny anymore. In fact, it was protruding out from her swollen labia. When I pinched it hard, Leila was seized by her ultimate orgasm. Instantly, she pitched forward on her face, unconscious. After remaking the bed — it was soaked with the spray from her constant cumings — I laid her inert body on the fresh sheets and climbed in beside her. Taking her in my arms, I almost instantly fell asleep. I awakened to the most marvelous sensation in my cunt. Opening my eyes, I found my legs spread over Leila's shoulders. (How she could bear to support my weight in view of her cruelly tortured shoulders is utterly beyond me!) When she saw my eyes were open, she said softly, "Hi, Kate! Did you have a good nap? Because I know I certainly did. I have never slept so well or so soundly in my whole life. Thank you." "What are you doing?" I asked. (A more stupid question I don't think I've ever asked! What the hell did I think she was doing!?) "I'm savoring your nectar," she replied softly. "Kate, you are unreal. Aside from the most beautiful body God ever created, you have the sweetest cunt, too." Then she grinned and added, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my work." Master, you will never guess what she did! (But being the sadist we both know you truly are, you probably will guess.) She brought me right to the edge of cuming... and held me there! For hours! Or at least it seemed like hours. My fists were pounding the bed, and I was screaming, "Leila Jones, if you ever want to see another sunrise, get me off! This instant!" Do you know what she did then? She lifted her face from my cunt and very cutely cocked her head to the side. (At least I think she was looking cute. In my tortured condition I was in no shape to see anything very clearly.) But at the same time, using her slender finger, she maintained me right on the edge. "What are you doing!?" I screamed. In the most thoughtful tone of voice she replied softly, "I'm thinking..." Then she looked at me, knitted her brow and asked, "Would you please repeat your request, Kate?" Trying my best not to scream I replied as softly as I could (That wasn't very softly, as I'm sure you already guessed.), "Darling Leila, please get me off. Make me cum! I'm almost there... Just let me go over... Please!" "But, darling Kate," she replied in her most reasonable tone of voice, "until a short time ago, I didn't know a woman could ever cum. So how could I possibly do what you ask?" Her face fell, she pretended to cry — although real tears were flowing — and said, "But I don't know how!" By now my eyes were flashing green sparks — you know how that is, Master, having been on the receiving end often enough — and I screamed, "Leila Jones, you just keep doing what you've been doing, but don't you dare stop! Hear!?" While her finger continued to maintain me at the edge, she finally said in the flattest tone possible, "Oh." By this time, I was truly in agony. But she did take me over. Did she ever! I came in torrents. My darling, I don't think I've ever cum with you to the extent I did with her. First, I screamed in release. Then I continued to scream as my orgasms came more frequently, until they became continuous. That was the last thing I remember. All I know was that all my feeling — my life itself — was concentrated in my cunt. Dimly I remember the most incredible sensation of joy, and then utter blackness. When I finally awakened, I smelled the most glorious fragrance. Opening my eyes, I found myself locked in Leila's arms. The fragrance, of course, was her incredible body. I only moved the tiniest bit, when her eyes popped open. Then in the softest, most loving tone of voice I've ever heard she whispered, "Hi, Kate." Hearing the love in her voice, I pulled her body even closer to mine and felt the perfection of her tiny body against mine. Was she content to leave it at that? Leila? Of course not. I could feel my pubic patch rubbing against her own and then I would swear our clits must have touched. The sensation was one of a massive electrical shock (or it will be an electric shock when Ben Franklin gets around to doing his kite thing). Then I just melted my lips to hers in a soft and lingering kiss. When I finally eased away, I found that her eyes were filled with tears as she murmured, "I love you, Kate." Then with a grin she added, "And you have to have the sweetest cunt in the whole world." When her brows knitted, I asked her what her question was. Her reply? (Now pay attention!) "I just wondered how you ever got your husband's face out of your cunt long enough to get his cock in," she said with the blandest expression on her face I've ever seen. Then she added, "Just wondering..." "I love you, too, Leila Jones. Now get your ass out of bed. We've got lots of work to do." We jumped out, went to the pool, swam — raced? — two miles, then sweated in the sauna. Finally, after a quick shower, I took her in the baby swimming pool we call our bathtub and after floating about an inch of musk oil on the surface, we took turns working it into each other's body. Finally getting out of the tub, I worked on her hair (there isn't much to work on) and she worked on mine. After putting a great deal of oil on her brands and whip cuts, I put gauze pads on both her shoulders and then gently dropped a sheer white silk gown over her head. After putting the slightest amount of lipstick on her already cherry-red lips, I took her by the hand to our full-length mirror. "What do you think?" I asked. The looks on her face changed in kaleidoscopic fashion. There was amazement, followed by disbelief, followed by... I don't really know how to characterize her final facial expression. Finally she murmured, "That can't be me. That woman is beautiful." "Congratulations, Leila Jones, and welcome back to the human race!" I exclaimed. "My darling, we've been trying to tell you... everyone has! You are utterly magnificent!" Then my tone changed, and I announced, "Slave Leila, the king and I have a very special guest coming for dinner tonight. He will be staying overnight. You shall make yourself fully available to him. Do you understand? With no restrictions of any kind... His wish is your command. Okay?" Darling, why do I do things like that? Moments before, she had been the brightest, happiest woman I have ever seen. But in an instant, the life went out of her eyes and she replied softly, but with no emotion at all, "Yes, Mistress Kate, I understand fully." With that, we left the bedroom to join you in the living room. ------- Chapter 19 How did I ever get so lucky, Kate? I'm sure you must be bored with this by now, but you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. (And I gave the chamberlain another bonus when I reminded myself about it.) You are a delight... a jewel without price. And if I haven't told you in a while, I love you desperately! Mike Fletcher had just arrived in a wheelchair. Although he certainly wasn't a cripple, with wounds in both his thigh and his shoulder he needed crutches, but with his wounded shoulder he couldn't use them. A moment later you appear from the bedroom, followed by Leila Jones. My God! What did you do to that woman? Although too small for my six feet three, she was utterly incredible! Exquisite! But you were utterly ravishing! Then in your most regal manner, you went to Mike — being careful to screen him from Leila's sight, I noticed — and greeted him warmly. Then you moved aside so Leila could see our guest. If it hadn't been so poignant, it would have been funny! Almost against her will, Leila's hand came up to her mouth and her eyes grew as big as saucers. And you? Pretending to be oblivious to the whole thing, you said to Mike, "Major Fletcher, I must make an introduction, but I scarcely know how. Major Michael Fletcher, may I present my dearest friend — and my body slave — Leila Jones. She has been charged with... keeping you... entertained... tonight." Turning to Leila you said, "I don't think you know Major Fletcher, do you?" Instead of responding, Leila dropped to her knees beside Fletcher's wheelchair, took his face in her hands, and melted her lips to his. Since she was on his left — unwounded — side, he was able to get his heavily-muscled arm around her and pull her close as their lips met and their tongues did their dance of love. The flow of electricity between them almost blew out every circuit breaker in the kingdom, and the bells nearly deafened me! (Do we look like that, too? People claim we do... ) And what was my child bride doing while all this is going on? My darling, I don't think you've looked that happy at the peak of your orgasms coupled with me. You were utterly ecstatic! As they eased apart, we both clearly heard Mike whisper, "I love you, my darling!" Still visibly shaken, Leila rose to her feet and said, "Major Fletcher and I have met previously, Your Majesty." When you raised an eyebrow, she repeated, "Major Fletcher and I have met previously, Kate!" Then she stuck out the tip of her pink tongue at you. It was the cutest thing I have ever seen. At that point, Julia and Susan joined us. After introductions had been made, Julia — bless her! — took drink orders and went out to the kitchen. My darling, she was utterly superb! After serving the drinks — martinis all around, except for Susan's Coke — she served the most magnificent hors d'oeuvres I have ever seen. But not only did she serve them, she did it on her knees! After Leila helped herself, she pointed out to Susan how perfectly Julia served. "You will note, daughter, how Julia drops down to her knees? And how her back is perfectly straight at all times? My darling, she is utterly perfect, and I hope you will use her as a model of behavior." "Oh, I certainly will, Mother!" the girl exclaimed. "This afternoon, Julia was telling me how she goes down on Bill Morrison, and how—" "Susan!" Julia screamed. "—how she studies so hard, and is learning from Ellie how to be a gourmet cook, and..." At that, everyone in the room cracked up with laughter, led by Julia who went to Susan, took her in her arms and utterly melted her to her chair with a kiss. "Mother, I utterly adore Princess Julia. Do you mind?" "How could I possibly mind?" Leila replied. "You and she are as close to being identical twins as it's possible ever to be. And I'm glad you had a good time this afternoon." Leila was seated in a chair as close beside Mike Fletcher as she could get. At this point, remembering the trial, I said, "Mike, as you know, my wife and I only returned to the kingdom yesterday. With everything that's been going on, we never have heard what happened. Could you enlighten us?" "With pleasure, Your Majesty," he replied. "Mike, we're in our private apartment," I said. "Please call me Bill, unless, of course, you want me to call you Your Excellency. And you've already heard our slave call my wife, Kate. After all, you are Earl of Huntington, and in line to become Duke of Westmoreland." While I said it, I was watching Leila carefully. As I suspected, the instant I mentioned Mike's title, her eyes went dead. My darling, I certainly hope we did the right thing! That woman is utterly beyond belief! I don't want to do anything to hurt her unnecessarily. Truly, my darling, she is in your class! And you know I don't make a statement like that lightly! At any rate, Mike Fletcher just grinned and agreed to call me Bill and you, Kate. He began: "Bill, after you and Kate were married, things were very quiet. So quiet, in fact, that the colonel gave leave to two full regiments. We — the Queen's Own — were scheduled to go on leave when the others returned. Well, I guess there's the old adage, 'When the cat's away, the mice will play.' Well, sir, you clearly are the cat. And the mice — the barbarians, this time — did decide to play. We were doing quiet garrison duty with only small mounted patrols out in the countryside. Then the shit really hit the fan..." Looking at you, his eyes widened and he said, "My apologies, Kate! I didn't mean to..." "Mike, remember me?" you asked. "I know damned well you saw me numerous times — all of me — at the Sign of the Golden Bear. Do you seriously think that anything you could possibly say might offend me? As for Crown Princess Julia, she has never had a bed of her own, let alone a room. She shares the bed with Bill and me and always has." Then you paused, looked at Susan, shook your head and said, "But then there is Duchess Susan..." "Aunt Kate, remember me? When I lived with the Wallaces, I had neither a bedroom nor a bed, either, until I got sick. I shared with Jean and George. When Jean was great with child, she couldn't see her own cunt past her beach-ball belly, so I positioned George's great cock in her vagina for her." She shook her head, grinned and added, "Aunt Kate, my ears really are not very fucking tender!" "And I shall wash your mouth out with soap, Niece!" you responded. With a puzzled expression on her face, Susan replied, "But what for? Surely it wouldn't taste very good. Why would I want my mouth washed out with soap?" Everyone howled with laughter while Susan just looked around as if to wonder what everyone was laughing at. "Do you need to hear any more, Mike?" you asked. "Then the shit really hit the fan!" he repeated with a grin. "It seemed like every North Country barbarian was coming overland to attack the town. Although we were outnumbered by at least ten to one, we were trained and disciplined while they were not. Since the colonel was on leave, too, I was in command. Anyway, I detached a company of men to evacuate the villagers to the castle, while the rest of us harassed the enemy. I suppose we did a fairly decent job. By the time we got back to the castle, we had managed to eliminate about 10 percent of their forces." "But what happened to you, Mike?" I asked. "Weren't you hit during that first assault?" "Not really, Bill," he replied. "The fact is I was in good shape, but then I didn't duck fast enough... and we were within sight of the castle walls when it happened, too. I took a couple of arrows — one in my shoulder, and one in my thigh." He shook his head and added, "Grimy damned things, too. Had they been clean, I probably wouldn't have had all the problems I did. But infection set in pretty fast. I wasn't in great shape." He paused, then reached out his hand for Leila's and held it tightly. "As it was, the surgeons gave up on me. I was much too far gone for them to waste their time on." He grinned and continued, "Besides, to that point we hadn't lost a single man. But a good number were wounded, and the surgeons were really stretched thin trying to treat them all." "Then what happened," you asked. Kate, you were truly hanging on every word. "Then Leila happened. She carried me to my room — by herself, if you can believe it! — and proceeded to operate. By this time, although the arrow shafts had been cut off, I still had two arrowheads in me along with the ends of their shafts. As pretty as you please, she cut off my clothing—" Turning to Leila, he interjected, "And you still owe me! That was my best uniform you very casually cut to pieces, young lady." Then he continued, "—and cut out the arrows. Was that all? For Leila? You've got to be kidding! "Using a very sharp knife blade, she opened both cuts. First she probes around with what felt like a large pair of industrial pliers — actually, they were forceps she had stolen from one of the doctors — and pulled out scraps of my uniform and heaven only knows what else. While I'm bleeding like a stuck pig, she just watches my blood flow." He paused and just shook his head as he remembered. "I'm sure you already guessed," Mike Fletcher continued, "that Leila was trying to get as much dirt and shit to drain from the wounds as possible. After putting compress bandages on both wounds, she leaves me asleep. "Then does she get some sleep? Hah! My guys were all back in the barracks by that time and feeling knee-high to a snake's belly. In spite of what they had accomplished — taking on a force ten times their size and inflicting about 10 percent casualties — they felt they had failed. Now we were surrounded by a besieging army that was still about seven times our size. So what does my little friend do? She mobilizes the wives of all the married troopers. Then, led by Betty Murphy — stark naked, by the way — they march into the barracks. "Betty calls out, 'Tom Murphy, where in hell are you? I need you badly right now... in my cunt!' For that matter, all of the wives were naked. But they took their men on the floor, on a bed if they could find one... anywhere! One couple even made love on the floor of the shower. And of course this is all in plain sight of all the single troopers. And there are twice as many single men as married ones, too." At this point, Mike took Leila's hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it gently. We both saw the girl blush and try to pull her hand away. It might as well have been held in a vise. "Anyway, Leila Jones appears... also naked. She goes around the entire barracks and takes every one of the single men inside her, starting with the ones who were lightly wounded. "Martha Cooper and Susan Hodges wanted to help her, but Leila wouldn't hear of it. In spite of having prostituted their bodies for years at the Golden Bear, both are now married — and both pregnant, I'm happy to say — so there was no way Leila would permit it. She took on two-thirds of the whole damned regiment. And laid out half the guys in the process, too, by the way!" Holding her head up high, Leila looked at me and said, "Your Majesty, you have just received public confirmation — from a senior officer and a nobleman — of my public fornication. I am guilty and deserve to die!" "Fornication?" Mike said softly. "Not hardly. An incredible sacrifice of your own body in an effort to repair the ruined morale of the only people who stood between the townspeople and death. No, my darling, it was scarcely fornication. Rather it was personal self-sacrifice of an incredible order." Turning back to me he continued, "But what then? As for me, when we left Major Michael Fletcher, he was falling asleep after her surgery. By the time she returned to my room, it was clear that things weren't going well. Blood poisoning had set in. So what does she do? Miss Jones decides to get rid of more of her blood. Today in the Great Hall we heard from the Duchess of the North how Leila gave her thirty pints of her blood over five days." He grinned and interjected, "Now I really feel left out. I guess she really doesn't care for me very much. I only got twenty-eight pints over four days. Can you believe it? It's true. She drained my poisoned blood on the floor while giving me seven pints of her own — and no human has more than eight. And she did that for four days in a row!" Now tears were flowing freely from his eyes as he added, "Is that all? Oh, no. After she left me that first night, she turned herself over to the torturers for thirty lashes on her back. Why her back? Because she returned to my room but never had her back to me. Of course, while we were making love, I felt something wet on her back. Her blood! And she scarcely had any left. "This continued for seven days. She only left me to get food, but always moving so I could never see her ripped back. When I was burning with fever, she put cold compresses on my head. When I was shivering with chills, she lay on top of me to warm my body with her own. And whenever possible, we made love. God, did we make love! This girl is a dream come true." Turning to her he continued, "That's why I'm going to make her my wife as soon as she'll let me." "You're out of your mind, Mike!" Leila exclaimed. Then turning to you she said, "Kate, maybe I should tell you more of what I did." My darling, it was utterly incredible! This poor girl was reliving a horror, but would not lower her eyes. There she was sitting up straight in the chair with her eyes locked on you. But she continued, "First of all, I owe my very life to Martha Cooper and Susan Hodges. Without them, I could never have made it. Mike said that the married gals were taking their husbands all over the barracks. But Martha and Susan took their husbands while they were close beside me, and gave fucking lessons to the young troopers at the same time." She paused, grinned and added, "As Mike said, they were both pregnant — in their seventh month, if I remember correctly. And I can remember when pregnant women became as big as houses. We heard Susan telling us about Jean Wallace being unable to see past her distended belly. As far as Martha and Susan are concerned, though, their pregnancies have only caused the slightest convexity in their flat bellies." She just shook her head and returned to her story. "Anyway, I went to a couple of the slightly wounded troopers and took them in their beds. But then, instead of me going to them, they came to me. The girls set up a table and I lay on my back with my legs spread. The guys would move between my thighs and proceeded to fuck my ass off. I guess I was a little pale by then, having given Mike a few pints of blood — Mike's chronology wasn't quite right. "Martha asked when I had eaten last, and I told her the day before. Well, she turned pale and disappeared. A short time later she returned with a whole bucket of chicken soup." Leila giggled as she remembered. "Kate, try to imagine the scene: I'm lying on my back on the table being fucked. But Martha is sitting on the table behind me, so I can lean against her shoulder. While I'm being fucked, she's feeding me chicken soup. After a few bowls, she remembered that a man's cum is loaded with protein. This gave her another idea. So with my belly sloshing with soup, she finds a small pillow for my head. Then I begin to give blow jobs to one group of troopers while being fucked by another." Turning to Mike she said, "And, Michael Fletcher, your troopers have the sweetest cum in the world! It's almost as sweet and rich as yours." Concluding, she said, "Anyway, that's what I did. And it was public fornication and I deserve to die!" Fletcher had not released her hand. "There are a couple of small things Leila forgot to mention. She forgot to tell you that after each episode, she would interrupt her cock sucking long enough to give the trooper who had just fucked her the warmest, sweetest kiss imaginable and thank him for creating such pleasure in her body. To a man whose cock she had just sucked, she expressed her gratitude for the luscious cum he had just given her." At this point Mike interrupted himself and looked thoughtful. Then he said, "Oh, what the hell... I wasn't supposed to say anything to anyone, but under the circumstances, I have to. Turning to me he said, "Bill, do you know Tom Peters, by any chance?" I thought for a moment but couldn't come up with anyone. After I shook my head, Mike just nodded and continued, "You're not supposed to know this, Bill, but although he serves as a sergeant in your army, Tom is a captain in my father, the Duke's, personal guard. "When I came down, he insisted on joining, too, to keep an eye on me. Anyway, just a couple of days ago, Tom came to see me. Leila was in prison at the time, of course. When I first saw him I knew that something was very wrong, although I had no idea what it might be. I soon learned. Honestly, Tom looked like the wrath of God. As long as I've known him, I've never seen him so upset. "When I asked him what was wrong, he replied, 'Major, it's me. I'm what's wrong!' "'What do you mean by that remark?' I asked. "At this point the poor man looked like he was going to come apart. 'I... I... I fucked Miss Jones!' he cried. Please note: those were his words, 'Miss Jones.' Not Leila, or the Queen's slave. No, it was Miss Jones. Then, to my utter astonishment, he began to cry. 'What's wrong?' I asked. By that time I already knew of Leila's lovemaking with the troops, of course and he knew it! "'She's so incredibly kind and good!' he cried. 'Can you believe it? That woman was close to death from blood loss, sir, but she thanked me for the wonderful lovemaking. Honest, sir, she did. She thanked me.' The poor man shook his head in sorrow and continued, 'She is as pure as the new-driven snow.' He looked thoughtful for a moment and then added, 'In fact, she's in the same class as Queen Katherine and Princess Julia. She has the same Divine grace flooding through her body... ' At that, Tom completely lost control. He was crying like a baby. I didn't know what to do. Finally, I took him in my arms and just held him while I listened to his hopeless-sounding cries. "When he regained enough composure to continue, he added, 'That woman is utter perfection on two feet. I must have been at least the 20th guy she took that night, but all she did was concentrate on making our lovemaking as perfect as she could make it.' "Then he looked at me and said, 'Sir, I know she's your lady. I also know she's madly in love with you.' At that point a small grin tried to break through his tears and he added, 'What must your lovemaking be like? If she's as much better with you than she is with me — because of her all-consuming love for you — I'm not really sure how you can survive.' His last words were, 'Sir, I want to say that Miss Jones must have royal blood in her veins. But at the same time, so many royals are shits, while she is utter perfection. But she is truly to the manor born. Everything about that woman is utter perfection!' And that's what he said," Mike concluded. Turning to Leila he said, "And you know what? I've heard essentially the same thing from every single man you were with that night! Their overall reaction? They had been able to make love to a goddess! That's you, Leila Jones!" Poor Leila was dumbstruck. She felt she should respond but there was nothing for her to say. Turning back to me he continued his story of the siege and Leila's rôle in it. "Bill, what was the overall effect of Leila's lovemaking? The effect was to transform a bunch of beaten men back into a fighting force. Because she also thanked each one for protecting her. That's all she did. She revived your entire army... by herself!" Then turning back to Leila he said, "Darling, you complained at the trial that the torturers were a bunch of wimps. They were ordered — by you! — to give you 100 lashes, but they stopped at thirty. Honey, they weren't wimps. It's just that they're not suicidal. You see, it took awhile for word of what you were doing to get back to the barracks. Then the entire damned army was about to take this castle apart to free you. And anyone who touched you must have a fully-developed death wish. Leila, they stopped because they decided they might like to live to see another sunrise." Turning back toward me, Mike said, "Your Majesty — now I am being very official, Sire — I would like to present my report on the battle that saved our nation. And again, Leila is responsible. You see, after we were back safe in the castle, we were at an impasse. Due to Her Majesty's foresight, the castle is fully stocked with supplies of every kind to withstand a long siege if necessary. But the barbarians were well supplied, too. Moreover, they knew that our only way in or out was through the main gate and over the drawbridge, so they were building earthworks covering that route and were getting stronger — in both troops and defenses — every day. "Then one morning after our lovemaking, Leila — who was living with me in my room, by the way — asked me if it would help things if we could attack the barbarians from the rear—" "You heard it yourself, Your Majesty, from your senior officer: how I was derelict in my duties. I was in his room pleasuring myself, rather than tending my duties here in the castle—" I cut her off in mid-sentence. "Pleasuring yourself, Miss Jones? Not hardly! You were saving the life of the garrison commander." Leila actually looked disappointed at my words! Then to Mike I said, "Please continue where you were so rudely interrupted." Mike grinned at me, winked quickly and continued, "I looked at her, kissed her, and said, 'Darling, if wishes were horses, poor men would ride. But they're not. Of course it would represent a breakthrough, but how could we do it?'" He grinned, shook his head and continued, "But she really did have a way. We all know that if there's a filthy job to be done in this kingdom, Leila has done it. One of these jobs was cleaning the sewers." He just shook his head and interjected, "Can you imagine anything more filthy than that? I certainly can't." Then he continued his narrative. "It seems that Leila knew where the sewers emptied out. Moreover, there is a manhole just inside the wall and a fully-concealed outlet with another manhole on the other side hidden in a tiny grove of trees clinging to the river bank. Bill Morrison and Tom Murphy went with her and she showed them how the sewer tunnel could be used. The wonderful thing is that it came out on the river side, directly opposite from the main gate. "In no time Murphy had engineers building a walkway in the sewer main for the men to use. It was only about sixty feet between the two manholes. When he reported back that it could work, he added that it would take quite awhile to get all the men out. The troops had to move in single file with an interval of six feet or more between each one according to the engineers. At this point our resident military genius has another idea." With that he paused, leaned over to Leila and melted his lips to hers. Again we could all feel the electricity, but in addition we could hear the sounds of her mounting passion. Finally, Mike eased away just far enough to murmur, "My darling, I love you desperately!" "And with Kate's permission, my darling, I will be your mistress for as long as you want me," Leila responded. After pausing and with her tears now beginning to flow she asked, "Do you suppose your wife will allow me to stay with you? I'm really a very good cook now, and I could be an excellent lady's maid. Kate can tell you how I helped her this evening. And... and... and I could prepare her body for your lovemaking. I could wet-nurse your children. I could..." At this point Leila completely lost control and began to bawl. Mike just held her closely against his good shoulder and listened to her hopeless-sounding weeping. (It seemed that her determination to be executed was beginning to wane.) When she regained some control, Mike continued his story. "Well, now we knew that we could sneak our men out of the castle, but it would take a good deal of time to accomplish it. Moreover, the sense of the officers and engineers was that it couldn't be totally silent. In fact, with all their equipment it was likely to be rather noisy. And if we were discovered early in the process, the men already outside the wall would be toast. Hearing this, Leila asked very quietly if a diversion would help. Something to focus the barbarians' attention on the front of the castle, perhaps? "She started by taking us aback with a question: 'Why do the barbarians want to capture this castle, anyway? What do we have that they want?' Well, Your Majesty, the best military thinkers in the kingdom drew a complete blank. This was a question that no one had thought to ask before, let alone answer. Looking sheepish — and I do mean looking like a flock of dumb sheep! — we all just shook our heads. So Leila asked what is our kingdom famous for?" This time Mike laughed with real humor. "What a bunch of fucking idiots we are! Another question, and more dumb looks. So Leila answered it herself. 'We are known for the beauty of our women, ' she said. 'Remember how we used to have to raise money to pay our taxes? Young women would sell themselves into slavery to raise the tax money. And buyers regularly came to our slave auctions from all over Europe! But just think!' she continued. 'There have been no auctions for more than six months. Might some men be getting pretty desperate for new female slaves about now? Is that possible?'" This time Mike gently kissed the tip of Leila's little nose. She just wiggled it after he did and grinned at him. "But to the question... We just looked at each other, utterly dumbfounded. As usual, she was right. But now what? Then Leila laid out her plan for a diversion. By this time, I was out of bed, but my participating in the raid was out of the question. As a result, I was on the parapet as her plan unfolded." He paused to gather his thoughts, then continued, "When I told you about Leila making love with dozens of troopers—" "I wasn't making love, darling," she interrupted. "I only make love with you. I was just fucking your men." Glaring at her, Mike ignored the interruption and continued, "—making love with dozens of troopers, it was on the testimony of dozens of them. Since the stories were all so similar, I concluded that it was all true. But with respect to her diversion, I was there. I witnessed the whole thing. "It was scheduled for late afternoon. The day was sunny and warm when Leila, stark naked, climbed on top of the parapet close beside the castle gate. This was where the barbarians were really concentrated. She yells down, 'Hi, guys! Are you ready for some fun? We know why you're all here, and it occurred to some of us that you might like to see what's available in the way of hot, wet pussy flesh. First of all, there's me. Of course, I'm just a slave, but some of you might like what I have to offer.' "Of course," Mike continued, "she was standing with her legs spread wide apart. Then she leaned over backward a bit so her cunt would open wide. 'I have a very fuckable cunt, ' she said. Then running her finger up her slit, she licked it off and said, 'Yum! And it's very sweet today, too.' Then she put fingers through each of her nipple rings and pulled them out. 'I have nipple rings already attached. Some of you might think of some interesting things to do to me while using them.' By this time the barbarians were hanging on her every word. Moreover, in just a matter of moments, their entire camp — including all the off-duty personnel and the perimeter guards! — were packed around the edge of the moat. In just a few minutes, their entire army was there. "Then one after another, she brought other girls up on the wall beside her. With each one she would describe their lush bodies in vivid detail. It began with Betty Murphy, followed by Martha Cooper and Susan Hodges. With them, in addition to announcing that they were pregnant — whoever got them, also got a bonus — she showed how they could pick up coins in their luscious cunts. "There were savage screams from the barbarians at this, and fights started to break out among them as they quarreled over who would be the lucky ones to have them. Gail Jackson appeared. Gail described her own features, even turning and bending over to show how much her anus had been stretched. She concluded her presentation by asking if any of the barbarians liked bumfucking. By this time, at least a dozen of them had been pushed into the moat by the crush of bodies and drowned. For some reason, in spite of spending so much time in boats, most of them can't swim. And with all their arms and armor? Blub! "Next up was Princess Julia. Her wrists were manacled behind her and she was dressed in a lovely white gown. Leila slowly stripped off her clothing piece by piece describing each of her features in glowing detail. When she was completely bare — and playing her rôle to the hilt the way she was: tears were streaming down her cheeks — Leila ran a finger up Julia's slit, licked off the juice and exclaimed, 'Wow! Is she ever sweet, today!' "Then she grinned and added, 'By the way, I forgot to mention that she is Crown Princess Julia, heir presumptive to the throne. Would any of you like a really nice virginal piece of royal ass? Julia is completely unpenetrated, by the way.' Now the fighting among the barbarians was getting totally out of control. And the strip show had been going on for over an hour and a half by that time." Mike paused for a moment and looked directly at me. "Bill, are you starting to get a picture?" "If the picture is that Leila saved my kingdom," I replied. "Yes, I certainly am." "And that is the picture." He shook his head and continued, "While Leila was presenting Julia to the barbarians, I received the signal — transmitted by flashing mirror — that all of our troops were out of the tunnel and were moving into position to attack. Then Julia dropped down from the parapet to be replaced by Susan here. Like Julia, she was wearing a simple white gown. Also like Julia, Leila stripped off her clothing a piece at a time, commenting all the while on her charms. This took about fifteen minutes. The sun had just set and it was early twilight. The barbarians are now completely out of control. "So what does Leila do? She says, 'Oh, what the hell. You guys haven't taken the castle yet, but maybe you might like a sample. What am I bid for the Duchess here? If the final bid is good enough, I'll throw her down to you.' At this, Susan begins weeping uncontrollably, but Leila is unrelenting. And her plan works. All the officers in the barbarian army push to the front and are now standing close beside the moat. They're the ones with the money, after all. And like a good auctioneer, Leila starts off the bidding. It is spirited and the bids rise fast. I guess it reached fifteen sacks of gold by the time our troops were all in position. "Anyway," Fletcher continued, "at that instant, right in the middle of her auction, Leila takes Susan's hand and they both jump down from the parapet. The next instant, all the girls are at the embrasures with longbows. In just another moment, Leila and Susan had picked up their own bows and cut loose." At this point Mike paused and just shook his head. Holding Leila's hand tightly he continued, "The slaughter began. And, Your Majesty, that's exactly what it was. You see, in just the first few moments, the entire barbarian officer corps was eliminated. Moreover, by this time they were so busy fighting among themselves that it was several minutes before most of them even realized they were under attack. Because the barbarians had indicated that they would give no quarter, we didn't give any, either. When we finished, they were all dead." At this point Mike paused and looked me straight in the eye. "One thing I forgot to mention: Most of the officers were wearing some armor, and all were wearing helmets. This made them much tougher targets for us than the unarmored enlisted men were. Anyway, when it was all over, we separated the officers and inspected their bodies. Every one of the five most senior barbarian officers died the same way: an arrow right through his eye. I asked our fletcher to check, and he reported that all of the arrows came from the same quiver: Leila's. In addition to everything else she did, she personally killed the five most senior officers in the barbarian army." Again he paused and then added, "Your Majesty, from what she said this morning, I can only conclude that displaying her naked body to the barbarians was what Leila described as 'consorting with the enemy.' Based on what you have just learned — and there are two other witnesses here: Princess Julia and Duchess Susan — does that sound like 'consorting' to you?" "Well..." I began pontifically, "it does cast a somewhat different light on things." Raising an eyebrow I looked at Leila and asked, "Slave Leila, don't you agree that putting an arrow in the eye of the enemy's commanding general is a somewhat... odd... form of consorting?" "But Master, you don't understand!" Leila protested. "I displayed my body willingly. I virtually prostituted the Crown Princess... and my own daughter! My behavior was utterly criminal, and I am guilty." Then with a tiny grin she added, "As far as the general is concerned, he was the one who bid fifteen sacks of gold, and I wanted it." "Daddy, may I say something?" Julia asked. When I nodded, she continued, "I willingly bared my body to the barbarians, too. If Leila is to suffer the death penalty, I deserve the same thing." "As do I!" Susan Hastings added, jumping to her feet and standing beside Julia. "Your Majesty, my mother has asked to be hung slowly, then drawn and quartered. I ask the same thing. I only ask that we be hung from the same pulley so that while I am choking out my life, I may also be kissing my beloved mother. Then, relying on the infinite mercy of Almighty God, we will go hand in hand to the Gates of Paradise. Once there, Majesty, I will spend eternity in her loving arms." Nodding slowly I announce, "It is so ordered. Susan Hastings, Duchess of the North, and Julia, Crown Princess of my kingdom, you will receive the same sentence meted out to Leila Jones." At that instant Leila was out of her chair and on her knees before me. She kissed my feet and then hugged my legs. Looking down, my darling Kate, I have never seen such abject misery in my entire life. "Your Majesty, please!" she begged. "You can't know what you just said. You cannot! These girls are two of the most perfect creatures God has ever created—" "You're probably right, Leila," I interrupted. "That's why Susan is almost certainly correct when she says that you and she — and our daughter, Julia — will be welcomed at the Gates of Heaven." I paused and then added, "I have only one favor to ask: Will you please share some of your love with our Julia? Please? She is so lovely and will be so alone. Will you? I know you will spend most of your time wrapped in Susan's arms, but..." Now she was weeping uncontrollably. "Can nothing be done to prevent this... this... this monstrosity?" she cried. "I will do anything to save my daughter's life... And the life of your daughter, as well." "Anything?" I asked. "Absolutely anything!" she screamed. "Then it's quite simple, really," I said softly. "First, withdraw your complaint." "But... but... I don't understand," the poor girl replied. Her weeping had died down at this point. "If I withdraw the complaint, what would I be punished for?" "Punished is... a rather harsh word," I said in my finest judicial manner. "Let's put it aside for a moment. Let me phrase it differently: What is the appropriate thing to do to a woman who restores the fighting spirit of demoralized troops? Troops who are the only thing standing between my kingdom and utter devastation. What is the appropriate thing to do to a woman who saves the life of the commanding officer of my garrison, almost at the cost of her own? What is the appropriate thing to do to a woman who finds a way to counterattack a far larger force besieging this castle? What is the appropriate thing to do to a woman who creates a diversion so successful that the battle can't really even be called one? It was no more a battle than are the activities in a slaughterhouse. What is the appropriate thing to do to a woman who personally eliminates all of the most senior officers in the attacking army?" I pause and see the look of utter amazement on Leila's face. "What is the appropriate thing, Slave Leila?" Very slowly she shook her head. Finally she said diffidently, "Perhaps you could allow me to live. Perhaps you could allow me to continue to see my daughter. Perhaps you might even allow me to continue as Mike's mistress..." Then she slowly shook her head and said, "No, that would be far too much, wouldn't it... ?" Finally, she said dejectedly, "I don't know, Master." "First of all, Leila Jones, your slavery has just ended—" "You can't do that!" she screamed. "You can't! For my slavery to come to an end, I must accept it, and I do not. I cannot! Your Majesty, I am the scum of the earth and we both know it. Mike mentioned that I found the sewer tunnel leading out of the castle. That's about all I'm good for: cleaning sewers. No, Master, I am not free! I do not accept my freedom." ------- Chapter 20 My darling husband, you were unbelievably good! In fact, I'm thinking seriously of taking back a few of the nasty things I've said in the past about your kingship. (But just a very few!) What was so good, really, was that we now think so much alike. Although I guess that's no surprise. Darling, do you remember all the times we conversed on our island without saying a word? Increasingly, Love, it is as if we are two people sharing a single brain! And I adore you. And by the way, what is going to be Kate's opening of the hour tonight? Leila has prepared me so beautifully. And paid particular attention to my asshole, as a matter of fact. Might you possibly be interested in some bumfucking? As I write these words, I can feel an itch in my asshole. It wants you ... desperately! Interested? At any rate, you suspended your narrative at the point where Leila flatly refused her freedom. It seemed that nothing was going to change her mind, and we both know, given her tolerance for pain, that she can be amazingly stubborn. (And don't you dare say one stinking word about me!) But at that point, Susan Hastings came into the picture. She had been sitting on a love seat beside Julia. When it became apparent that Leila was adamant, she rose, went to you and dropped to her knees before you. "Your Majesty," she began, "I wish to sell myself into slavery. Since you are my guardian, I will need your permission." "Are you sure, Susan?" you asked softly. "It's ... quite harsh." "I know, sire, but I should bring a good price at auction." Then with a beautiful smile she added, "And I sincerely hope that you will bid me in. Since Gilbert is now a draft animal on the Murphy's farm, you need another slave to pull the pony cart. And I believe I would be perfect in the rôle." "But Susan," I said, entering the exchange, "you will have to be branded and have your nipples pierced. Then there's the dildo stuck up your ass ... Are you sure?" "Indeed I am!" she exclaimed. "Have you seen what slavery has done for my mother? How could she have done the things she's done otherwise?" "But the whippings... ?" I added. "A small price," she replied. "Besides, I'm much too soft. Furthermore, as Mom could tell you, I'm also much too free with the whip. I need more than a taste of it myself. And—" "Susan, what are you saying!" Leila screamed. "You are a virgin! You are a noblewoman! There's no way—" "It is so ordered," you say in your most judicious manner, interrupting Leila's outburst. "Tomorrow morning, Susan, you will be stripped and placed in the stocks at the slave market. And remember to behave yourself and show off your lovely little cunt to maximize the money we receive—" "I give up," Leila interrupted dejectedly. "I'm no longer a slave. I accept my freedom." Then looking around the room she added, "It's all a damned plot." Then to Susan she said, "Wait till I get you alone, young lady! You are going to get the beating of your life—" "It certainly will be, Mom," Susan interrupted. "You see, I've never been spanked. Ever!" With a lovely grin she added, "And I'm sure you will agree, dear mother, that it is long, long overdue!" Then with the cutest little smile I've ever seen she added, "And it better be really good, too! First of all, I've been an unmitigated little shit — especially where you're concerned. Second, you're very strong. I know you seem to be able to absorb limitless amounts of punishment. Since I am your flesh and blood, I think I can, too. And I really want to find out. Please? Tonight?" Leila just shook her head in frustration. Rising from my chair, I took Leila by the hand and said, "Darling, I think we need to take some time to repair the damage." With a small grin I added, "You look like you've just been through another war." And in fact, she really did. The emotional shocks of the evening had had her going like a roller-coaster. After suggesting that you and Mike have another drink and the girls might go off somewhere — an idea they both greeted with delight — I said we would be back in an hour or so. Leading Leila by the hand, we returned to our bedroom. Once there, I eased her gown over her head — frankly, it was pretty beat up from her being on her knees before you — and looked her over. I noticed that the gauze compresses were still in position on her shoulders and quickly learned why. Scabs had formed on her cuts bonding them to her body. If you can believe it, she was about to just rip them off — and rip up her body still more in the process — when I stopped her. You will be proud of me, Master. Maybe my service as Chancellor of the Exchequer has made me frugal at long last. At any rate — possibly because of the huge quantity of musk oil I dumped in our bath water earlier — rather than draining it out, I actually saved it. (Aren't you proud of me?) At the same time I had activated the new heating element we had installed so we can now soak in the tub — and play by the hour — without the water growing cold. Anyway, we both got in the tub, and I let the very warm water work on Leila's body. My darling, I did for her what you so often do for me: I sat on the step and rested her head in my lap while her body just floated in the oil. At the same time, I gently caressed her tortured tits with more of the oil. In no time, she was making the most wonderfully contented sounds. She sounded exactly like a contented kitten. "Leila Jones, how could I possibly be as wrong about you as I was?" I asked softly. "Would you believe it? I used to think you were a brainless airhead with her taste in her feet!" "That's only because that's exactly what I was ... and still am, for that matter," she murmured. "And somehow, someway, I'm going to get even with you and Bill for allowing me to live, too." At that point, darling, I almost cracked up with laughter. The juxtaposition between her harsh words and her sleepy-sounding voice was hilarious. Of course this was coupled with her eyes being closed and her body seeming to move by itself almost following my fingers. It was as if her body wanted to maintain its contact with my gently-moving fingers. "No, Leila, you're wrong," I said softly. "And I must confess to watching you with Susan, too. My darling, it was truly a sight to see! I have never seen a mother and daughter love one another the way you and Susan do. And you teach her so much! Leila Jones, you know everything." "That's because I stay up late every night trying desperately to stay a chapter ahead of her, is why," she responded in the same half-asleep tone. "And for that matter, all I'm doing is what I see you and Julia do constantly. (Is that true, darling? Do Julia and I look like Leila and Susan?) Dearest Kate, Susan and I are but a pale and very weak imitation of the love you and Julia share. But you do serve as our model, so please don't change..." Her voice had died down like a run-down phonograph. I was almost certain she was asleep. "Are you sure you'll be able to take Mike inside you tonight?" I asked her softly. By this time her eyes were closed and I was studying the luxurious length and fullness of her eyelashes which looked like twin fans against her deeply tanned cheeks. "Darling Kate," she replied with her eyes still closed, "if my skin had been flayed off, I would take him ... assuming he could stand to take me." Then her eyes opened and she looked up into mine. Darling, there truly was fire burning inside. "Kate, do you think Mike will accept me as his mistress?" When I said I didn't think he would, she was crushed — I could see it instantly in her eyes. After all, my darling, who could handle a mistress with a wife as passionate as Leila? And she will be Mike's wife. After soaking in the tub, I helped her out and gave her another massage. My darling, I think I'm pretty strong, particularly after our glorious honeymoon, but I'm fairly sure she's stronger than I am. And that's in full realization of the fact that I'm eight inches taller and about twenty pounds heavier. Anyway, after doing her breasts and loins — and using another quart or so of musk oil — I rolled her on her belly and worked on her shoulders, back, buttocks, and thighs. By now she was about three-quarters asleep and just moaning as I worked out a particularly recalcitrant muscle knot. (It's a good thing I thought of the bath and massage. The poor girl was just a mass of knotted muscles, reflecting the emotional turmoil she had just been through.) She jerked up like a stretched bow, though, when I (not so casually) mentioned that today is Susan's birthday. "She's thirteen today — a teenager," I commented. When Leila tried to jump off the table, I said softly, "Cool your jets! (What's a jet?) Everything is under control. Do you think for one moment I would allow a mother not to have a birthday present for her daughter when she reaches her teenage years?" I just continued to massage the oil into her body, paying particular attention now to her asshole. "This doesn't look like it's been used much," I commented. "You're right. It hasn't. And that's only because I'm a shitty saleswoman," Leila said softly, again relaxed. "Heaven knows, I've tried hard enough to get Mike to fuck me in the ass, but I've had no success." Then she changed the subject and said, "I apologize, Kate. I should have known you would be taking care of everything for me. God knows, you always do. But would it be too much to ask for you to tell me what I'm giving her?" "A couple of little things, darling," I replied. "One is your nipple rings. I asked the royal jeweler to remake the gold rings into earrings for Susan. I think she'll really love them, too. They will have gone from the nipples you used to nurse her to her ears into which you pour your knowledge and wisdom. What do you think?" "I think she'll need to have her ears pierced," Leila replied. Then she shook her head — or as much of a shake as she could manage with her head lying on the massage table — and added, "But, no. That's already taken care of, isn't it? Julia?" "It must be the sadistic streak she inherited from me," I replied. "Then there's another gift from you that will be a surprise to both of you. Finally, there's one thing I would like you to do as soon as we're out of here." By this time, I had completed my work on her body, so I helped her off the massage table. We both giggled merrily as I supported her while she tried to walk. Master, my massage must have been extra good; her leg muscles were so relaxed, they refused to support her weight. After seating her in front of my dressing table, I began to brush her hair. It is utterly magnificent! I suppose it's basically brown, but there's very little brown left. The fact is that she has every color imaginable from brown through blonde to almost platinum. Coupled with her urchin's cut, the color streaks are incredible. And coupled with her magnificent piercing gray eyes ... Unbelievable! Anyway, I brushed it vigorously while Leila studied herself in the mirror. "I don't really look so terrible anymore, do I?" she asked softly. "You silly goose!" I exclaimed. "You are a vision!" Then I left her for a moment, went to the closet and returned with another dress. She examined it, then looked puzzled. "Kate, you're very slender, of course, but you're incredibly muscular, too. You can't wear this dress, can you?" Then she looked at it more carefully — it was a pale yellow — and then added, "And the color really isn't right for you, either." Then she turned on the stool, looked up and said, "What on earth did you buy it for?" "The word is 'who, ' not 'what.' As in, 'Who on earth did you buy it for?' And the answer, silly, is you, of course. With your incredible hair coloring and gorgeous gray eyes, it will be utterly magnificent!" Initially, Leila was startled by my response. Then she looked at the gown and its construction more closely. "Kate, get real!" she finally exclaimed. "I couldn't wear this! It ... it ... it shows everything!" "You're right, it does," I agreed. "On the other hand, when you wear it to a palace ball, please don't urinate on the floor ... It ... it ... it disturbs... some of our more sedate and sheltered guests." "Kate, dear, I have a request for you," Leila said with sarcasm dripping from her voice. "And what might that be?" I countered. "May I please retroactively withdraw every nice thing I've ever said about you? Please? Queen Kate, you are a shit! S-H-I-T, shit! And you're a sadist, a mean, nasty bitch—" While she was still talking I bent over and melted my lips to hers. My darling, it was funny, really. There she was, still trying to talk, while our lips met. Again I probed her mouth with my tongue, and again, when it made contact with hers, there was a high-voltage shock. With our mouths still joined in a kiss, she rose from the stool and came into my arms, mashing her still-naked body against mine. When we finally eased apart, we clung to each other for mutual support. Neither of us was at all confident of her ability to stand unsupported. Finally she looked up at me and said softly, "Just because you kiss me and turn me into warm mush... very happy warm mush ... doesn't change anything. You're still a shit, Kate. Can I help it if I can't help adoring you, sadistic shit that you are?" Then she just lightly ran her fingertips over my bare body, nodded her head firmly and added, "A physically perfect, lovable, sadistic shit." Then she looked even more carefully at the construction of the gown I had shown her and noticed that, although it appeared to be ordinary, in fact its skirt was made in two discreet pieces with a front and a back. The two pieces were only joined at the waistband. She looked puzzled for a moment and then beamed. "This is made so that my brands will show if I spin, or extend my leg to the side, right?" I just nodded my head rapidly. "And all that holds it up is this tiny halter cord. It looks like it's cut down to my navel in front and past the crease in my buns in back. Is it?" Again I nodded. She just shook her head slowly and said, "This is a vicious plot, isn't it, Kate? I know you. You did it to get me to stop walking in front of every swinging whip in the kingdom, right?" "You sure are!" I replied emphatically. "At this year's Christmas Ball, you're going to be a smash!" I paused and then said, "Of course for Christmas, I think I'll have another made for you in red. How does that sound to you?" "It sounds neat!" she replied with real enthusiasm. (My darling, there's hope for her yet!) By now we were ready to rejoin you, but I wanted her to do something for me first. After giving her a pen and some of my best writing paper, I asked her to compose a note to accompany her gifts to Susan. I am certain Susan will love it. Leila wrote: My darling daughter Susan, You are flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood. This comes to you with all the love a mother can possibly convey... "Do you think she'll like it?" she asked. "No, darling Leila, Susan won't like it..." Leila's face fell, but then I continued, " ... she will utterly adore it! In fact, I'm willing to wager that she will love the note far beyond your very thoughtful gifts." By this time I had carefully replaced the gauze pads on her shoulders and produced another white gown for her to wear. Like the first, it had an Empire cut with a tuck under her full breasts but otherwise hung loose and free. Made of the finest lawn, it was translucent on her body, and displayed her lovely nipples and even her sun-streaked pubic patch. When she objected, I told her that she was much too badly cut up to wear even a bikini. (Wasn't that quick thinking on my part, darling?) When we (finally) rejoined you and Mike, the two girls were just returning, too. (Did you and he have a good chat?) Leila glanced at Susan and noticed golden ear studs in her ear lobes. "And what were you doing, young lady? Did you finagle Princess Julia into piercing your ears?" Then she shook her head and added, "Young lady, you know you're going to get a beating tonight, anyway..." Then her eyes widened and raising an eyebrow, she scowled and said, "Susan Hastings, you may not survive the night! We've already established that you've never been spanked. But do you really have to make up for a lifetime's neglect in only one night? Do you?" At that Susan reached back and gently rubbed her lovely bottom. "And what does that mean?" Leila asked. Then her eyes lit up and she continued, "Of course! You want to remember what it was like when you still had buns!" Susan came over to Leila, took her in her arms and melted her soft lips to hers. I could see Leila trying to keep her lips compressed, but it was no use. In an instant she was hugging Susan tightly and melting her lips to her daughter's. Everyone in the room (including you, William!) sighed at the love flowing between mother and daughter. It was like the kiss Leila and I had exchanged a few moments earlier, but with even more power. Finally they eased apart, but as after our kisses, they held each other to keep from falling flat. When she could finally speak, Leila said softly, "You are still going to get your spanking, young lady." "I know it, Mommy," Susan replied softly. "And as I said earlier, it's long overdue." Then moving back slightly to allow her eyes to focus on Leila's she added, "Are you really mad? Because if you are, I could just take the studs out, the holes will close up and my ears will be back to normal in no time." Standing on her tiptoes, Leila kissed the tip of Susan's nose and said, "No, my darling daughter, I'm not really mad. Those gold studs look lovely in your tiny ears, as a matter of fact." We all adjourned to the dining room where Ellie was waiting for us. While normally Mike would have been seating at my right and Leila at yours, I arranged it so Mike and Leila were seated side by side. Susan was the guest of honor on your right, and I could tell instantly that she was so very proud — as was Leila! In fact, the girl was so proud — instantly, she recognized the honor being accorded to her — I thought she would burst. While Ellie was serving the first course — a mixed seafood cocktail — Susan addressed her mother across the table and said, "Never have I received such an honor! Imagine! Being the guest of honor of the king himself! And eating in his private apartment..." My darling, in the next instant you made me so proud! I just loved it when you raised an eyebrow and just glared at the girl. Then it was so funny ... I could see her mentally reviewing what she had just said. Finally she brightened and modified her earlier statement, "Excuse me, Mommy. I should have said, 'guest of honor of Uncle Bill himself.'" Turning toward you she added, "Is that better?" "Much!" you replied. Then when you leaned toward her, she moved to close the distance and the two of you kissed. Frankly, my darling, I was jealous! You should have seen yourselves! Both of you had your hands at your sides. The only contact was your two pairs of lips. But it was an utterly breathtaking kiss. Frankly, husband, you enjoyed it too damned much! (But isn't she a dream? And she's only thirteen years old!) As Ellie served the dinner, I kept looking at Leila. In the first place, she was almost literally starving to death. All she had eaten for two days were the two sandwiches she had had at lunch. Notwithstanding her hunger and her cruelly tortured body, she sat upright in her chair and ate everything while savoring every morsel. It was all I could do to keep from laughing at Susan. While she was perfectly behaved — and as our niece, how could she be otherwise? — she kept glancing sidelong at Julia and across the table at her mother to be sure she was doing the correct thing. (She is so damned cute! But how can such an utterly beautiful young woman also be cute? But she is!) When I noticed Mike with his hand on Leila's lap, I said acidly, "Michael Fletcher, would you kindly keep your hands to yourself!" Hearing my comment, Mike looked up at the ceiling, then over at the wall to his left, then to his right. Finally he looked at me and, in the flattest tone of voice I've ever heard, replied, "No." "Michael!" I exclaimed. "What's the problem, Kate? You asked and I answered: No, I cannot keep my hands off Leila Jones." When I just glared at him, he continued in the most reasonable tone, "Let's look at it carefully: First, I love her so damned much, I feel the need to touch her whenever and wherever I can." Raising his eyebrow he interjected, "A propensity I share with you and Bill, may I add? Do you two realize that whenever you're within reach of one another, your bodies are always in contact in some way? I vividly remember that day late last fall when we had the first snowfall. Bill carried you back to the castle in his arms, wrapped in his cloak. You were stark naked, weren't you?" Of course he was right. I so vividly remember being carried in your arms while I held my head back to catch as many snowflakes in my mouth as I could. It was after you took me in the old stable. And that was after I met you on the path, in my best submissive posture. If you remember, my darling, I was literally shaking in anticipation as I wondered which of Kate's openings would be her master's opening of the hour? Anyway, I just noncommittally nodded. "Kate, it's the love I share with this incredible woman sitting beside me." At that point the sudden change in his facial expression indicated he just had a new thought. Speaking thoughtfully, he continued, "I just realized what a remarkable gathering this is." Turning to you, my darling, he said, "Do you realize, Bill, that we are dining with four of the most remarkable women alive in the world today? Because we truly are. "Let's look at your wife, Kate. First of all, she is so incredibly beautiful, she puts every other woman alive to shame. And now, having just returned from what I gather was a truly incredible honeymoon, it just gets better. But beyond her beauty, we have her brains — the most successful Exchequer in the world — and her humanity. "This brings me to Julia. The two of them — Julia and her mother — have done more things for more people than any other 100 people in the kingdom, or in the whole world for that matter. Like her mother, Julia incorporates a joie de vivre with utterly incredible beauty." Turning to Julia he asks, "For that matter, what do you do to poor Captain Morrison?" Then in an aside, he told you that Bill had been promoted because of his actions during the siege. Continuing, "Whenever he's been with you, he returns to the barracks and walks into walls, doors ... anything! Young lady, what do you do to him, anyway? And is that any way to treat a hero?" With her eyes as big as saucers — and lying like a rug! — she replies, "I really have no idea, Uncle Mike. All I do is give him a little kiss once in a while. And after all ... I'm not even sixteen, yet, so..." "Bill, you won't mind if I hang warning signs around Julia's neck, will you? Like 'Unexploded ordnance, ' or 'Danger! Minefield!' ... You know ... something like that?" "Not in the least," you replied with a grin. And then you add — cracking up the whole table, "But wouldn't it be better if we have the warning tattooed across her chest, or her forehead, or something? After all," you added in your most reasonable tone of voice, "she could always take a sign off." To that comment, Mike just grins and shakes his head. Then he continues, "Susan is a younger Julia — but without the boyfriend ... yet! Enough said. Which brings me back to where this whole thing started: Leila. First, Kate, she has the same beauty you have — and originating in the same place. Although I didn't say it earlier, as gorgeous as you are externally, it is only a faint shadow of the beauty you radiate from within. Queen Katherine, you are adored by your subjects because you so overflow with God's Sanctifying Grace that it spills onto anyone even near you. And if you kiss them, they're cooked ... they're done." Mike paused and then continued, "Well, Leila is the same way. With you being the only possible exception, she is the most perfect female on the face of the earth. Beyond her Divine grace, though, there is her intelligence, her bravery, and — yes — her self-sacrifice. This woman is utter perfection, and I am going to marry her." "Michael Fletcher, you've lost it!" Leila screamed. "You have utterly freaked out! I never realized until just now that the blood poisoning must have poisoned your brain. I am a brainless slut, Michael Fletcher, and we both know it. I am a beast of burden. I clean sewers. I urinate on the street in public. I am branded, for God's sake! What on earth is wrong with you? You've lost it! Utterly!" Having temporarily run out of derogatory things to add to her self-description, she just sputtered. "Are you finished?" Mike asked in a very quiet voice. At that point poor Leila was still so upset, she couldn't even respond, so he just repeated, "Woman, I am going to marry you, whether you like it or not. As you stated just a short time ago, you are a slave fit only for cleaning sewers. But since you're used to being a slave, you're used to taking orders, too. So you are ordered to marry me. Moreover, you are self-described as brainless. That being the case, you're incompetent to make such a decision yourself, so I made it for you. End of discussion." Leila just shook her head in utter bewilderment. By this time the dinner had been cleared from the table, and Ellie reset it for dessert. In the course of moving around the table she slipped a small package into my hand. Then I retrieved another small package that had been taped under the tabletop at my place and passed both to Mike, who passed them on to Leila. At that point, the lights in the dining room were dimmed leaving the table candles to provide the only illumination. Then Ellie proudly reappeared bearing an utterly magnificent birthday cake with thirteen candles burning and placed it in front of an utterly astonished Susan. At that point we all started singing "Happy Birthday" to her. Although as you well know I can't carry a tune in a bushel basket, I was able to hide my horrible voice under Julia's. It came as utterly no surprise at all to hear that Leila had an utterly magnificent singing voice — along with her myriad other talents. For that matter, dear heart, you and Mike both have magnificent baritone voices. You've been holding out on me, darling! If our children are extremely fortunate and get their singing voices from their father, they might even be able to carry a tune. By the time the singing ended, Susan had recovered enough to make a wish and then blew out all the candles. Susan being the girl she is, immediately jumped to her feet and caught up to Ellie who was on her way back to the kitchen. After thanking her for baking such a masterpiece, she melted her lips to the older woman's leaving her speechless and in a daze. While Susan returned to her seat, Ellie cleared her head and whispered to me, "Your Majesty, she has the same Divine Grace that you and Princess Julia share. She's just such a wonderful girl!" At this point Leila passed across the table the two small gift boxes and the envelope with her note. The first thing the girl did was to carefully open the envelope and read Leila's short note. Her reaction was what I expected. The girl broke down in tears, and bawling her eyes out, somehow managed to get around the table and sit across Leila's lap. The two women melted their lips together in the most incredible exchange of total love I've ever seen. Then Susan moved just far enough away to be able to focus her eyes on Leila's face. "Mommy, I utterly adore you! And I am the blood of your blood and flesh of your flesh." She paused a moment and then added, "No daughter could possibly love her mother as much as I love mine!" This caused Leila to bawl, and this time it was Susan who comforted her. The waterworks finally ended and Susan, still sitting on Leila's lap, opened the smaller of the two packages. When she opened the box and saw the gold earrings — formerly Leila's nipple rings — she just stared. Then turning, she looked at her mother's body and realized that she could see her nipples clearly through the sheer material of her dress. Tears again began to flow from the girl's eyes and she said, "Mommy, I will treasure these always. "These spent months in your nipples. Now they will go though my ears. I only hope that they will bring to me some of the goodness and grace that are so much a part of you." With her eyes wide she asked, "Will you put them on for me?" Leila did, and everyone agreed the gold loops looked perfect set against her dainty ears. Turning her attention to the other box, Susan opened it and found a heavy gold circle pin. Afraid to touch it, she just looked at it as it gleamed brilliantly in its box. The girl just kept shaking her head in utter amazement. Finally she said softly, "I can't tell you what this means to me. On my thirteenth birthday I receive my very first adult jewelry. But is that all? Oh, no. I receive memorable gifts that will last my lifetime from the person who loves me the most in the whole world!" With exquisite care the girl removed the pin from its plush holder. As she examined it carefully — it is quite heavy because it's pure 18 kt. gold — she turned it over, saw that it was engraved on its back, and read the message. "Oh, my God!" she screamed. Unable even to talk, she gave the pin to Leila, then wrapped her arms around her neck and bawled. Perfectly engraved on the back were the words, "Blood of my blood; flesh of my flesh." When Leila looked at me, I just rolled my eyes and shrugged. The royal jeweler really had done a magnificent job in a very short time. After all, he had only a few minutes to do the engraving when I sent a messenger to his shop with a note containing the words I wanted engraved on the pin. Pulling away from Leila, Susan said softly, "In the smallest way, Mommy, this is why everyone adores you. Not only do you give me my first adult jewelry, but both pieces are so incredibly memorable. Never has a girl received such thoughtful birthday gifts." Then she looked into Leila's eyes and added, "But what will I ever be able to get for you? I couldn't find such thoughtful, memorable, and tasteful gifts in a million years." Then with a quirky little grin breaking through her tears she added, "And I know you. You did it just to put me on a lifetime guilt trip, didn't you?" Leila's expressive face took on a very thoughtful look as she cocked her head to one side, then to the other as she appeared to be carefully considering Susan's comment. Finally, her face broke into the cutest girlish grin and she rapidly nodded her head up and down. Both of them merrily giggled and they kissed again. ------- Chapter 21 My darling, did you lie to Horace? You told him that you couldn't cook, yet with the possible exception of Ellie herself, you are the finest cook in the kingdom. And I hope you know that a slave lying to her master is a punishable offense! For that matter, what is this garbage about not being able to sing? I vividly remember our tree-lighting ceremony last Christmas. When we sang Gloria in Excelis Deo, the incredible voices of Queen Katherine and Princess Julia soared over everyone's. The vocal trills you included... the high notes you reached — and held! — were utterly incredible. And, my darling, when you sang O Holy Night, the entire crowd was hushed as they marveled at your magnificent singing voice. Honestly, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. And last night? "Hiding under Julia's voice," I think you said? Now that is a simple song for a child's party, yet you conveyed joy and love and yes, Divine Grace, in your voice. Get their voices from me? Surely, woman, you jest! Your voice is truly a joy to hear. And I love you. Anyway, Julia and I were sitting at the breakfast table — how do you get such beautiful fresh flowers on the table so early in the morning? — while you folded out magnificent omelettes for us, when Susan comes into the room — "staggers" would be a more accurate verb, though. The girl was naked, but totally unaware of her nudity, and completely unconcerned if she was aware. Her body has a magnificent all-over tan, and is just taking on its womanly form. Her hips are forming and already her legs are magnificent. She even had a small pubic patch of golden hair whose color matched the hair on her head. Although normally the pubic patch is darker, hers was as sun-bleached as the hair on her head. That girl is a young golden goddess! Pulling out a chair, she dropped into it, and yelped. After jumping up from her seat, she eased slowly back down on it. Clearly, Susan had a pair of very bruised buns this morning. "And how are you this lovely summer morning, Susan?" Julia asked in her most cheerful voice and with her brightest smile. Susan just glowered at her across the table. Finally she said hoarsely but in an utterly flat tone of voice, "I hate you, Crown Princess Julia." Pretending to be hurt, Julia replied, "Golly, Susan, I love you." Then with her eyes as big as saucers she asked innocently, "Why do you hate me this morning?" "Because you pierced my ears and I got spanked," she replied glumly. But we all noticed that she was still wearing her new earrings. I'm sure they never left her ears after Leila put them on for her the night before. But then the girl's natural exuberance started to take over. (My darling, I don't think that girl is capable of being truly glum!) "And boy, can Mommy ever spank!" Turning to you she said, "Aunt Kate, I think she might even be stronger than you are, if anyone could believe such a thing." Then she just shook her head and continued, "It was worse than that, though. Do you know what happened?" she asked rhetorically. "As usual, I was bare-assed naked when I bent over her leg. Do you know what she did? She caressed my buns and just rhapsodized to Mike about what a lovely little ass I have. She even said that I was developing a womanly bottom. Isn't that just the neatest? Anyway, she caressed it as gently as she could — and for Mom, that's pretty gentle. It was almost like feeling a feather making the lightest imaginable contact. I was in heaven! But then at completely random intervals, she would spank me hard. Between spanks, though, there was just that incredibly gentle contact." At that point Susan shook her head sadly and said, "But then something really strange happened. After the first couple of spanks, my bottom felt all warm and tingly. If you can believe it, I started to beg her for more spanks. After ten or so, with each spank I felt the most incredible sensation in my pussy." Now she grinned broadly and said, "And I'm really my mother's daughter, too. Believe it or not, we cum the same way. We don't just cum, we spurt. We're like a man, but without a cock to control the aim. It's sort of like a spray. Anyway, with every spank, I would cum and spray all over Mommy's leg. "By the time she was finished, she was soaked. But she turned me over, sat me across her lap and gave me the most perfect kiss I could imagine. And I came again! Would you believe it? Cuming when you're kissed by your own mother? But I did. Honest." Pausing for a moment, she shook her head and then continued, "But it was only then that I realized she was crying. When I asked what was wrong, she replied that she had hurt her baby. That kiss she gave me — with every ounce of love she could communicate — was by way of an apology. But God knows, I love her more than life itself!" "How did she make out with Mike?" you asked. (A poor choice of words, if I may say so.) "Like a bandit!" she exclaimed. "She and Dad were so damned funny! (He insists that he's Dad, too. He says we'll take care of the formalities as soon as he and Mommy get married.) Anyway, Daddy kept saying that he and Mom are getting married. She would refuse, coming up with a different reason each time, so he would fuck her." She grinned joyously and continued, "If you wanted to see something really funny, you should have seen that. It was utterly hilarious! She was very seriously listing her objections, and Dad would just lift her up as if she were a feather and sit her on his cock again. And that was funny, too. Dad just lifted her up and set her down impaling her cunt on his giant cock. Mommy kept on with her objections, but increasingly interrupted herself with her cumings. (Each time she did, she sprayed her cum all over Daddy's lower body. He just loves it!) "Daddy had her in continuous orgasm and she couldn't talk. Finally, when Dad got bored with the whole thing, he would put her out like a light. And then do you know what happened? As soon as she recovered consciousness, she would pound on Dad's chest with her little fists and bawl him out for making her forget her best reasons why they couldn't get married. And then he'd take her again." With a beaming smile she concluded, "And this went on all night! That's why I'm so tired. When Mom's body went into continuous spasm, it shook the bed so much it would wake me up... every damned time!" "I guess they weren't too handicapped by Mike's wounds or your mother's, were they?" you asked. "Not so you would notice it!" Susan exclaimed. "I guess the funniest thing, though, was when Mommy wanted Dad to take her in her ass. She pointed out that wearing a dildo in her ass every day had really opened it up so she thought she could take him easily. She's been after him for weeks to do it, so last night he did. Since all of her whip cuts are on her back and chest, that wasn't a problem, but Dad's bad leg was. But he finally figured out how to kneel behind her with almost none of his weight on his bad right leg. As big as he is — and Dad's gigantic! — he eased into her tiny opening without causing her a great deal of pain. She did say, though, that he was far larger than her dildo, but it felt so great to feel him penetrating her body there." Susan paused, shook her head and continued, "Then I had what turned out not to be the greatest idea I've ever had in my life. I thought it would be neat to wiggle under Mommy's body while Daddy was taking her. And it really was neat, I guess. There I was lying on my back under Mommy. The next thing I know, I feel the most incredible sensation in my pussy... Mommy is kissing and licking it. Well, that seemed like a neat idea, so I began to kiss hers, too. "Meanwhile, Dad's pounding her ass with his giant cock. Then Mommy starts to cum, and sprays my face with her luscious syrup. Her cumings are more and more frequent — and I'm almost drowning in her love cream — when Dad lets go in her bottom. This triggered a massive orgasm in her. I guess it must have caused her to bite my clit, which triggered an incredible orgasm in me. Anyway, I must have shot up like a fountain all over Mommy's face and hair, while she's drowning me, too. Everyone collapsed at that point. It was all I could do to get out from under. Finally, we all recovered. "Then when I complained about her almost drowning me, she just stuck out her tongue and said it served me right. 'After all, ' she said, 'who ever heard of a thirteen-year-old girl licking her mother's cunt while she's being fucked in her ass.'" "And what did you reply, Susan?" you asked. With the most incredibly impish grin I've ever seen she said, "I told her that I can't help it if I'm retarded. I know that most kids start doing it when they're no older than five, but I never knew it until now." "And then what happened?" you asked. "Then she put me over her knee, caressed my buns, and gave me another spanking," she replied. "And it was so neat! I came much easier and more often the second time." Then she looked at you with a question in her eyes and said, "Am I a masochist, do you suppose?" "Probably, darling," you replied, "but if you are, you come by it naturally, too. I'm sure your mother is one, too." At that moment, Leila came into the room pushing Mike in his wheelchair. Both were wearing white terry robes that were provided in the guest rooms. Stopping for a moment at the doorway, she looked around and said, "What an utterly magnificent kitchen! And everything looks so lovely and cheerful... !" At that instant she realized Susan was sitting at the table naked. "Susan Hastings!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?" "Morning, Mom!" she said cheerfully. Then she looked puzzled and continued, "I'm having breakfast with Aunt Kate and Uncle Bill. And it's really a great one, too. But why did you ask?" "Susan Hastings, have you completely lost it?" Leila demanded with sparks now flashing from her lovely gray eyes. "Did I completely scramble your brains when I... That's it!" she exclaimed. "I always suspected that you're sitting on your brains, and now I know you are." With her eyes wide, and with phony concern in her voice, she continued, "I'm so sorry, darling, for scrambling your brains when I spanked you last night." Then her voice changed to that of a drill sergeant as she yelled, "Susan Hastings, off your ass, on your feet, get a robe and put it on. Immediately!" The girl was out of her chair and flying from the room in an instant. When she was gone, Leila just shook her head and murmured, "The nerve of some people's children..." (My darling, I'm afraid we weren't properly sympathetic to Leila's plight. In fact, all you did was grin from ear to ear, and I'm certain I was no different. Will our children be like that, do you suppose?) "And how was your night, Leila Jones?" you asked. "Did you get any sleep?" Her response to your question was to hit Mike hard on his good left arm and then say, "Thank you for reminding me, Kate," she began. "First of all, last night was the first time in six months I got to sleep in a bed. And it was the most marvelously comfortable bed I've ever been in. But did I get a chance to enjoy it? Hell, no! Michael, here, kept molesting me all night long." She paused, shook her head, and continued, "No, that's not right, either. It was sexual harassment!" Turning to me she said, "Bill, don't you have laws in this kingdom protecting women from sexual harassment?" I looked up at the ceiling, over to the wall, out the window — it's going to be an utterly glorious day, by the way — and finally back at her. Then in my flattest possible voice I said, "No." "You don't?" she exclaimed. "Well why in hell don't you?" Looking at her as if she were a dimwit I said, "But Leila, darling, the answer is so obvious, I'm amazed you would even ask the question!" Rolling her eyes, she murmured, "Here comes a great story line..." Then in her normal tone she said, "Perhaps His Majesty would be willing to enlighten a poor, stupid, uneducated female... ?" "But Leila," I replied with sincerity dripping from my voice, "you provided the answer yourself during the siege: 'What is this kingdom known for throughout Europe? The beauty of its women.' Darling Leila, given the unsurpassed beauty all around us, what are the men of the kingdom to do? Surely you don't want to be left alone? "According to your daughter, you seem to like having your pussy probed by Mike's great cock. In fact, I understand, you seem to like taking his cock in every possible opening. Yet you complain?" Shaking my head slowly, I concluded, "Women! There's no way in hell of ever satisfying them..." (And darling, I could almost swear there was both sarcasm and irony in the applause you gave for my little speech. Or am I mistaken?) At this point you interjected, "Leila Jones, I cannot tell a lie. You absolutely glow this morning." Then you looked her over carefully, then nodded your head decisively and added, "You have that unmistakable well-fucked look." "No, darling Kate, I'm not well fucked. I'm well-loved." Shaking her head slowly she added, "And there is a huge difference between the two... As you very well know!" "Oh, I don't know..." you replied. Then to Mike you said, "You referred to the night last winter — the day of the first snowfall — when Bill carried me back to the castle in his arms. What we never told anyone was that when he met me on a path, I was in a perfect submissive posture with tears flowing from my eyes and juices dripping from my cunt. I was literally shaking in anticipation, wondering which would be my master's opening of the moment. In which opening would he first insert his glorious cock? And if he was bored with what was available, I would have cheerfully borrowed his knife and opened a new one anywhere he wished." Then turning to Leila you said, "But a difference between making love and fucking... ?" You just shook your head feigning bewilderment and said, "I'm sorry, Leila. I don't understand." The others howled with laughter while you looked as if you had no idea what they — and I — thought was so funny. ------- Chapter 22 My darling, you looked so incredibly handsome and kingly later that morning as you marched into the Great Hall with me following an obedient half-step behind. But before recounting the events of the morning, I think it's only fair that I first respond to some points you raised in your most recent communication. First, I did not lie to Horace. My cooking ability — such as it is — is a product of three things. The first is endless coaching from the tireless Ellie. (Were I in her position, I would have given up on me long ago!) The second was our arrangement for our honeymoon. Had I not learned how to cook we would have died of starvation sometime during the first month. The third thing, I reluctantly confess, is my incredible degree of love for you, my darling husband and master. For some inexplicable reason my love for you causes me to want to serve you in every way it's possible for a woman to serve a man. Cooking is just one of those ways. Happy now? With respect to asking Leila how she made out, I must agree with you: It wasn't the best possible phrasing of the question I had in mind. As for the heartfelt applause I gave for your speech regarding sexual harassment... I just don't know about you, my darling. Me? Applaud ironically? Moi? Surely, you jest. After all, why would I not applaud your defense of sexual harassment? Did you ever harass me? You forced me to fight the dogs for scraps of food that very first night, of course. You forced me to present my naked body in all its detail for your inspection within moments of laying eyes on me. You fucked my ass off within hours of our first meeting. "But harassment? You? Never! (And if you believe these words, dear heart, I can offer you a marvelous deal on a bridge they're going to build in a place to be called Brooklyn in just a few hundred years. But right now you can get in on the ground floor... !) Finally, my darling husband, my last remarks — as you well know — were nothing but the simple truth. If you wanted to fuck me in my eye socket, I would cheerfully gouge out my eye to open a hole for your cock. If you wished to fuck me through my belly button, I would cut a hole for you through to my back. If you wished one of my tits for your breakfast, my only question would be how you would like it prepared. Bill, my darling, I love you with my whole heart and soul! But now to the events of the day. Unlike yesterday, today, as soon as we were both seated, Leila marched in escorted by two officers of the Queen's Own, Bill Morrison and a young ensign. Immediately following was Mike being pushed in his wheelchair by his orderly. Today Leila was wearing a simple light gray gown in a color that complimented her gorgeous eyes. Her hair glistens under the lights in all its incredible glory. (After all the time I spent brushing it— joyfully — it should gleam!) For the first time in months she even has shoes on her feet: lovely black slippers. (That woman has the loveliest hands and daintiest feet I've ever seen on a woman. But nonetheless, she is incredibly strong — and I don't mean for a woman her size. I mean strong!) It was utterly wonderful to see Bill hand her down to her seat on the stool and then kiss her fingertips. The junior officer did the same thing while Leila graciously thanked them for their escort. (I sincerely believe it was a greater pleasure for them than it was for her.) Betty Murphy, Julia, and Susan followed the group and took their seats behind her. Mike's wheelchair was beside her stool and he just held her hand in his. "Ladies and gentlemen of the kingdom," you began, "this has been an utterly extraordinary trial from its outset. After all, how many capital cases have there ever been in which the defendant is also the principal accuser." You paused and then added, "And in this case, the only accuser." Again you paused for effect and then continued, "Yesterday, we here in the courtroom all heard that Leila Jones' dereliction of duty consisted of virtually bleeding her own body dry to save the life of our ward, Susan Hastings, Duchess of the North." After another pause you continued, "This incredible act of self-sacrifice does not meet any definition of dereliction of duty I could possibly conceive of. "Rather it was an act of incredible personal heroism. Susan said it best: 'Greater love hath no man than he who gives up his life for a friend.' Well, change 'man' to 'woman' and 'friend' to 'daughter', and you have this situation. Finally, I can tell you that to Susan Hastings, Leila Jones is her mother. When those two kiss — as you all saw here yesterday — enough electricity is generated to power this whole kingdom for at least a year." After another dramatic pause (you really do it so beautifully, my darling!) you continued, "As I said a few moments ago, this has been a very odd case. At any rate, we continued the hearing in our apartments yesterday afternoon and evening." You held up your hands to quell the murmur of outrage from the assembly and added, "Queen Kate and I were just catching up with you people. What we heard was the story of the siege that we missed, but which you all lived through. "But what did we learn? We learned that Leila Jones offered her body to all of the single men of our garrison at a time when their morale was through the floor. Because they had waged a fighting retreat, we hadn't lost a man, and yet they felt defeated. And remember, it was upon these men that our very lives depended. She made love with every one of them. This is the public fornication of which she stands accused." You paused for a moment and looked out over the crowd. And it was a crowd. Fortunately I had alerted the chief engineer to the possibility, so I could feel the high-powered blowers exhausting the heat produced by hundreds of closely-packed bodies and could feel the chilled air coming in as the air-conditioning system got its first real test. I don't believe a single additional person could have squeezed in behind the railing. As you looked over the people, I could see they were hanging on your every word. You continued, "I cannot believe that offering her body to recharge my troops could possibly be considered fornication as the offense is described in our criminal code. Does anyone here disagree with my finding?" As you carefully looked around the hall, it became so silent one could literally hear a pin drop. There was not a single sound. Finally you said, "Thank you. Accordingly, that charge is dismissed, also. This brings us to the most serious charge Miss Jones has leveled against herself: High Treason. Specifically, she charges herself with treasonably consorting with the enemy — and doing so during a battle. My dictionary defines consorting as 'keeping company with.' Well, what exactly did Miss Jones do? "Before considering that question, there are a couple of other matters she neglected to mention yesterday. First, the matter of saving the life of our garrison commander, Major Michael Fletcher, Earl of Huntington, and in line to be Duke of Westmoreland." At this point you paused, shook your head and grinned. "Wow!" you exclaimed. "That was close! Had we lost Mike, I'm afraid the Duke would have gone to war against us, allied with the barbarians. For some strange reason, he seems to love his only son quite dearly. But how did Leila Jones save the Earl's life? In a fashion similar to what you heard described by the Duchess of the North: She gave him virtually all of her blood. "The Duchess testified that Miss Jones gave her six pints of her blood each day for five days. Well, she gave the Earl seven pints a day!" At this point you paused, grinned and then added, "Of course, I guess she really doesn't like him very much. She only did it for four days, rather than five. But please keep in mind, she has eight pints of blood — at most — in her body. It is fair to say that where blood is concerned, Miss Jones was truly running on Empty! "But then what? We had achieved a Mexican standoff with the barbarians. They couldn't harm us but we had no way of attacking them, either." Again you paused for effect and then continued, "Until Miss Jones showed us how. You see, one of her duties as a — the — palace slave was cleaning the sewers. In the course of this healthful activity, she discovered a sewer tunnel leading under the castle walls on the river side. Under Major Fletcher's orders, the engineers prepared a walkway for our troops to use to exit from the castle, encircle the barbarians, and then attack. "But there was one problem. The whole process was considered to be quite noisy and — particularly in its early stages — if discovered, the first troops would have been annihilated. So Miss Jones conceives of a diversion. The diversion consists of using her own body and the bodies of her beautiful friends to entice the barbarians." Again you paused, and still the people were hanging on your every word. "I don't have to tell you what happened next. I know that many of you saw it all from the castle walls. The result was that not only did she engage the attention of the entire barbarian army, she had them packed together like sardines on the banks of the moat. More than a dozen fell in and drowned. Finally, though, she enticed the entire barbarian officer corps to the edge of the moat. When they were all lined up, she and her friends opened fire with archery while our troops attacked the entire barbarian perimeter. The result was the barbarian force was totally destroyed. "But what you may not know is that arrows were removed from the eye sockets of each of the five most senior barbarian officers. Every one of those arrows was loosed by Miss Jones. Every single one! By herself, she destroyed the entire command structure of the barbarian force. Our losses? We didn't lose a man. In fact, Major Fletcher assures me that he would routinely expect greater casualties in a training exercise." Again you stopped. Looking around the hall, you just waited while the tension built to palpable levels. Finally you looked directly at Leila and said, "I'm sorry Miss Jones. But I cannot accept your killing the five most senior officers in the barbarian army as 'consorting with the enemy' in any reasonable sense. I'm sorry, Miss Jones, but I cannot." Then you looked around and again challenged the spectators: "If there is anyone here who believes that Miss Jones is guilty of High Treason, let him come forward now!" This time, not only was the whole hall deathly silent, no one even moved a muscle. And you, dear heart, just let the tension build. After an interminable length of time you continued, "Accordingly, it is the finding of this court that Miss Jones is not guilty of any of the crimes charged." Again you paused, but for just a moment this time. Continuing you said, "In a normal trial in this kingdom, there are only two permissible findings: guilty or not guilty. Miss Jones has been found not guilty. But in this case, that finding is grossly inadequate. She is not 'not guilty.' She is innocent!" Now focusing on Leila you commanded, "Miss Jones, rise, come forward, and kneel before your king!" It was clear that Leila was astonished by this turn of events, but she did as you commanded. While she was coming forward, you offered me your hand and we went down from the dais. Leila knelt before you with her head up but her eyes downcast. Then you said in your most magnificent stentorian tones, "For your incalculable service to the Crown, it is with my deepest gratitude that I dub thee Dame Leila! Henceforth, be it known that Leila Jones is Dame Commander of the Knights of the Garter. Arise, Dame Leila!" In the next few moments, darling, I was certain that the whole damned castle was going to come down around our ears! Never have I heard such a thunderous cheer, or such a joyful one. Clearly, my King, you acted with the fullest approval of your subjects. When Leila rose to her feet, her eyes were shining with her tears, but there was a look of utter joy on her face. I'm sure, my darling, that — like us — she was reacting to the joy of the people more than anything else. As she started to turn to go, though, you said softly, "Leila, stand fast! We're not finished with you quite yet." But you took her hand and drew her forward so she was standing between us while we all faced the still-cheering crowd. Finally the cheering subsided enough for you to again be heard. Then you said, "But that is not enough. Dame Leila, I stand here in awe at your incredible personal bravery and self-sacrifice. Heroic deeds normally take only a few moments. Your heroism extended over days. Continually you sacrificed yourself. What can we say? What can we do?" Again you paused, as the crowd again grew totally silent, hanging on your words. You continued, "All I can think to do is something terribly trivial when compared to what you have done for this kingdom and for these people. Dame Leila, please accept from a most grateful people this Gold Cross of Valor, which now and henceforth shall be the highest award for heroism that can be ever awarded in this kingdom." With that you hung the beautiful gold cross on its blood-red ribbon around her neck. Then you pulled her close and melted your lips to hers. My darling, I never knew you had it in you! When you kissed Susan at the table last night, I was impressed with your ability to convey pure love. But that kiss paled into insignificance against the power you unleashed on poor Leila. Actually, my darling, it was really funny. Initially, she wrapped her arms around your neck. But then as the power of your kiss increased, she started to flail her arms, but then she just draped them over your shoulders. Finally, I could see the girl's body go limp as she fainted from your kiss. My darling, you were so incredibly wonderful! In the meantime, the crowd again cheered at a noise level that should have taken the roof off the hall at the very least. Meanwhile, you just held Leila until she slowly regained her senses. At that point Leila just looked into your eyes, shook her head, turned to me and said, "Kate, you're welcome to him. Not only is he too big for me, Bill would kill me with his kisses before he ever got around to fucking me. He's all yours!" "Before you go, Leila," you added, "we have a royal command for you: You are to go to the ducal palace of the North with Mike and Susan. There you are to rest and recover. Finally, we will expect you back for our annual Christmas Ball in December. At that time, young lady, if there is a single mark visible on your body — and I mean so much as a mosquito bite! — drastic action will be taken against you... and your family! Is that understood?" "But Your Majesty..." she began. "Is that clearly understood?" you thundered. "Yes, Majesty," she murmured, "it is clearly understood." Then she gave you a saucy wink and stuck out the tip of her pink tongue, and added softly, "You put me out, Bill, just to show off, didn't you? Admit it! You were just showing off for Kate, weren't you?" God, I love that woman! And you, dear heart, just stuck out your tongue in response. ------- Book III: Mattie's Book ------- Chapter 23 Hi, folks! My name is Matilda. I am queen of Slobovia. Can you possibly imagine a dumber name for a queen? Or a dumber name for a nation? About all I can say is that we — my country and I — sort of go together. Now what, you are wondering, is this idiot doing in this book? (A very good question, might I add. After all, to this point it's been a sort of dialogue between King William and Queen Katherine.) Well, I'm not really too sure of the answer to that one, either. What I do know is that I arrived at the palace on the day Leila, Mike, and Susan were scheduled to depart for the north. For some reason, Queen Katherine seems almost to love me, so she invited me to assist in preparing Leila for her trip. At this point a few words of background are in order. First, who am I? As I mentioned, I am Matilda, Queen of Slobovia. As a daughter of the King and Queen of Bosnia, I knew only privilege from my first moments on earth. There have been no changes since... until I came to Essex. (That's right, too. The name of this kingdom has never been mentioned. For that matter, it was only a few pages earlier in this combined narrative that you, dear reader, learned that the king's name is William. He is, of course, William, King of Essex.) Anyway, Essex borders Slobovia on the east. And Slobovia operates pretty much like the rest of the European monarchies: high taxes, huge standing armies and no freedom for its citizenry. The fact is, I guess, we never thought of our countrymen as citizens at all. We just thought of them as peasants or serfs, good for only one thing: to earn money which we would confiscate and spend on our own pursuits. (We really prefer to say that we levy taxes. After all, it sounds so much nicer than saying we confiscate their money.) With one small exception my entire lifetime has been spent in a sybaritic existence. The sole exception occurred less than a year after Gus and I — that's King Gustav IV of Slobovia — were married. Like a number of other women in my position, I was only sixteen when I was wed. The exception I referred to was the birth of our son and only child, Wilhelm (he hates his name), who was born when I was only seventeen. We never really saw very much of him, as a matter of fact. He was raised by a progression of people beginning with a wet nurse, then a nurse, a governess, and finally a tutor. He disappeared at the age of fifteen and we haven't seen or heard from him since. From time to time I find myself wondering where he is, what he's doing, and — indeed — if he's even still alive. Bill — his preferred name — was a truly delightful young man. Often I wonder where his looks and intelligence came from. I should add that I'm a big fat ugly slob, so they certainly didn't come from me. In an earlier note about me, Kate stated that I was beautiful. When I read it — Kate allowed me to skim through the earlier material — I wondered what sort of strange and wonderful substance she had been smoking. Or else she became confused as a result of one of her endless fuck sessions with Bill. (But that's not accurate, either. But more on that later.) Let me describe myself. I am thirty-six years old, five feet ten inches tall — that's right, five-ten! — and weigh about 195 pounds... when I'm on a diet. My hair is sort of blonde, I guess, and quite long, reaching to the crack of my ass. My eyes are blue. I suppose my bone structure is okay. My tits are... bountiful. Remarkably, my nipples are very small surrounded by small areolas. A more accurate depiction of my appearance would be fat, as in "fat slob." (As I reread this material, I rather like that characterization of myself. I am the chief female slob of Slobovia. Don't you agree that it has a certain je ne sais quoi?) But I was telling you about my life in Slobovia. I am both a sybarite and a hedonist. Gus has little or no interest in me, nor I in him. My life revolves around my pleasures, one of which is periodically to visit the slave auctions, a regular feature of life in Slobovia. In the opening pages of this narrative, Bill described his visit to the Essex auction on the day he first met Kate. About the only difference between Essex and Slobovia is that its young women are more beautiful than ours. Aside from that, though, the two slave markets are quite similar in both their design and operation. Of course when I visit the slave market, I don't make the same mistake Bill did. I'm always accompanied by at least a troop of cavalry and a platoon or two of infantry. The last time I visited our market was the day before I left for Essex for my first extended visit. The Slobovian slave market works the same and the people behave the same. With the troops holding back the crowd — early in the day, composed primarily of weeping parents — I inspect the young women and provide help and coaching. Boy, am I ever a big help! Let me describe my last visit. My help consisted of ripping off a young woman's undergarments to fully bare her body. When her hands moved instinctively to cover her breasts and loins, I pulled them away to get a good look. With the riding crop I always carry, I lifted her chin from her chest and then used it to lift each of her tits. She was about seventeen, and her tits still had the wonderful firmness of youth. The girl was one of the more attractive young women in my country, with a slender body and full tits. She had lovely wavy chestnut hair, gorgeous green eyes, and a very full and dense pubic patch. When I pinched her nipple, she jerked away and I slapped her across the face. My coaching consisted of telling her how to roll her hips back to provide buyers with the best look at her cunt, and how to tell a buyer how lush and firm her tits were. I reminded her at the same time to be sure to ask prospective buyers to give both her tits and her ass a good hard squeeze. When I ran my fingers through her pubic patch and then moved my finger up and down her slit, she seemed upset. Yet her cunt did become nice and wet in no time. For some inexplicable reason, my coaching seemed to serve only to redouble her tears. Then I reminded her that this was her only opportunity to make some real money for her parents. After all, she would sell herself into slavery only once. That comment did seem to have some effect. With an almost superhuman effort of will, she actually followed my advice. Before the auction, when the prospective buyers were inspecting the human wares, she was the most aggressive girl in touting her charms. She brought the highest price of the day, too. Of course it hadn't penetrated my thick head that there were far more young women offered for sale than there used to be, or that the mood of the citizens seemed particularly ugly. Did I make any connection between the number of girls selling themselves into slavery and my husband's newly-established 70-percent-plus tax rate? Don't be silly. Of course not. After all, what possible connection could there be? But then my education — such as it was — essentially ended when I was about ten years old. Education? My education consisted primarily of getting tutors fired, but usually only after I had both mentally and physically abused them. One young woman — Jean something-or-other, I think — who seemed particularly interested in trying actually to get me to learn something — ended up in the torture chamber. There I watched in delight as she was whipped, then repeatedly raped, and then the cycle repeated. I have no idea how many cycles she went through. But I do know she was thrown out of the castle about ten days later far more dead than alive. As far as sex is concerned, whenever I see an attractive man and I have the urge, I order him brought to my quarters. His marital status never concerns me in the slightest. If I want him, he is brought to me. His choice is to perform or spend an interminable length of time in the dungeons. They all perform. More often, though, rather than taking them myself, I would have them take one of my slaves in my presence. What I often did was play a game of mix and match: having a very handsome young man take a particularly old and ugly woman, or vice versa. Occasionally, I would have a young woman take a series of my soldiers, one right after the other, until the girl's sex organs — and asshole — were just masses of blood and gore. Only one girl died as a result of the sexual abuse she absorbed in such a session. Most are far tougher than they think they are. And besides... I'm certain that the girl who died had a congenital heart defect that caused her death, and the palace physician agreed with me. If, by now, you're getting the impression that I'm a rotten person, it's only because I am. But then I met Kate. The first time I met her was during the meeting of the Reigning Monarchs Association that was described earlier in this narrative. While our husbands were meeting in Slobovia, a few of us wives met in Essex. When I met Kate for the first time, I truly did not believe my own eyes. To say that Kate is beautiful is to say the Matterhorn is large. Both statements are true, but both are totally inadequate to describe the reality. At the time of my first visit, I had the opportunity to see Kate's body nude. Her beauty literally blows the mind. While staying with Kate, I got the first real exercise of my life. While I tried to move exercise equipment set at one-tenth of her weight loadings, she moved hers with apparent ease. However, it couldn't have been nearly as easy as she made it look because muscles bulged all over her body with each movement. Yet an instant later, there was only her smooth, satiny flesh with no apparent muscles at all. In her note, she described my meeting Leila for the first time and how I studied her body. She also described how I volunteered to be a royal slave in Essex if Bill would only service me a single time each month. This brings us to the beginning of my story. As I said, I arrived on the day Leila was preparing to leave for the palace of the Duke of the North. Kate greeted me warmly upon my arrival and then to my surprise invited me up to the royal apartments. There I found Leila with her daughter, the duchess, waiting for us. In truth, it was my first meeting with Leila. Previously, she had been a pony harnessed to a cart and acted the part. Today she was... There are no words I can use to describe that woman. When Kate and I entered, both women rose to greet us. I was first introduced to Susan Hastings, Duchess of the North. When I had a good look at her, I just let out a low whistle of admiration. "Kate, this girl is utterly stunning!" Then to Susan I asked, "To what do you owe your surpassing beauty?" "Thank you, Your Majesty, for your lovely compliment. But with respect to beauty, what little I have — what very little I have — I owe to my mother. Of course I constantly berate her for not being willing to give me more than 1 percent of what she has..." The girl paused, and then looking into my eyes with hers as large as saucers, she asked, "Do you really think it would have been too much to ask for her to give me 10 percent? Or at least five? Is that really too much to hope for?" I took the girl's hands in both of mine. First, I looked down at her hands and noticed how slender and beautifully shaped they were. Then I looked deeply into her eyes and almost drowned. First, of course, they were the most brilliant blue I have ever seen. But beyond that — far beyond that — they were truly windows on her soul. Her eyes just shone with love, purity, and God's Divine Grace. Yet at the same time, they truly sparkled with gaiety and joy. Her young body was utter perfection. She was deeply tanned and quite slender, with her body just beginning to take on what will ultimately be its perfect womanly form. "Susan, I will say just two things. First, my name is Matilda. Horrible though it may be, it's what my parents stuck me with. So, unless you want us both to waste at least half our conversational time with honorifics, that is the name you are to call me. Second," I began while shaking my head in simulated sorrow, "as much as it pains me to say such a thing to a noblewoman such as yourself... Susan Hastings, you lie like a rug! Only 1 percent of your mother's beauty? Hah!" She didn't directly respond. Instead Susan said, "Matilda, may I present my mother, Leila Jones?" Turning to the woman by her side she said, "Mother, this is Queen Matilda of Slobovia." Of course I tower over Leila Jones, being five feet ten compared to her five feet even. Turning to her, I smiled, extended my hand... and dropped my jaw. Turning to Kate I said, "Were I not seeing it with my own eyes, I would never believe it." Then I switched my eyes from one to the other and then back again. Seeing my predicament, Leila moved close beside Kate so I could see them both without having to constantly turn my head. While I watched, the two turned toward each other, and seeming as if they were moving in slow motion, went into each other's arms. A moment later, the two merged in the most incredible kiss I have ever seen. Then, after throwing off enough electricity to light Essex for the next five years and deafening the entire populace with the ringing of bells, the two eased apart but still remained in each other's arms. When Kate whispered, "Thank you, Big Sister," Leila replied in the warmest, most cultured voice I've ever heard, "You're welcome, Baby Sister." Only then did Leila extend her hand to me in greeting. "Good afternoon, Matilda. I'm very pleased to formally meet you at long last." With a little grin she added, "If I remember correctly, the first time we met I might have urinated on your shoes while standing in the courtyard. I do remember your being very impressed with my... body decorations." I looked down into Leila's eyes... and nearly drowned. If Susan's eyes radiated joy, grace, and purity, words fail me in an attempt to describe Leila. Suffice it to say that, moving as if in a trance, I took her in my arms, melted my lips to hers... and everything went black. Awhile later — I have no idea how much later — I came to and found myself being held up by her arms under my armpits. Despite the great difference in our sizes and weights — I don't think she even weighs 100 pounds — she was holding up my 195 pounds or so with no apparent effort. Then I uttered a brilliant question: "What happened?" "Something you ate, maybe?" Leila replied with her eyes dancing. "You came into my arms and you fainted." Raising my right eyebrow — something I am good at — I repeated, "I just fainted... Yeah. Sure!" Turning to Kate I asked, "Why doesn't this woman carry a warning label? While you were branding her, why didn't you write something useful? Like branding, 'Hazardous Substance' on her forehead, or something." Then to Susan I said, "Clearly, I owe you an abject apology. You are right in your assessment of your beauty. In fact, I think you were quite generous at 1 percent. A small fraction of 1 percent would be more accurate." Then turning back to Leila I added, "I mean... really! I've heard of selfish mothers before — in fact, I'm in the running for the most selfish mother of the century, myself — but you really take the cake! And I thought I was bad? Hell, until I met you, I was nearly certain that I had a lock on the trophy. But against you? Lady, there's no way I have a chance." Shaking my head sadly I concluded, "There's no fucking way!" "Are you finished yet?" Leila asked with exaggerated politeness. Then she paused and said, "How do you do, Matilda? I'm Leila Jones, and I'm very pleased to meet you." I took the woman's small hand in my large one and was amazed at the power of her grip. This woman is so strong, I'm convinced she could break every bone in my body without breaking a sweat. And that particularly includes crushing my hand and all the bones in it. Since the purpose of the gathering was to prepare Leila for her trip, all four of us went into the bathroom. It was like no room of its kind I had ever seen. In Slobovia when I want to take a bath — which is seldom — my maids must bring in a tub like a laundry tub and laboriously fill it with water carried up in jugs from the kitchen. When I relieve myself, I use a chamber pot. But what do I find? Something akin to the Roman baths. First of all, the bathroom is larger than my bed chamber. Second, it has remarkable things called faucets from which crystal-clear water runs when one merely turns a knob. There is a tiled room called a shower. On its walls are dozens of small pieces of metal which I later learned are called showerheads. Water — as cool or as hot as one would like — pours out of any or all of them, at almost any level of force. There are three basins side by side. Kate explained that, because Essex was poor, Princess Julia shared both their bed and their bath. But she had a lavatory — that's what the basin is called — of her own. Finally, there was the bathtub. A not-so-small swimming pool would be more accurate, though. When we entered the room, steam was slowly rising from the surface of the water. Then, to my utter amazement, Susan began to strip off my clothing, while Kate undressed Leila. When we were both naked — and while I was valiantly controlling my urge to cover my breasts and my cunt — Kate and Susan both stripped bare in an instant. Without a word, Kate scooped Leila up in her arms and effortlessly carried her up a set of steps and then down another set in the side of the pool. I noticed that the water came chest high on Kate when she was standing up in it. Susan looked at me, shook her head, and said, "Matilda, I think I can lift you up, but I'm afraid I might drop you. Wouldn't you rather get in under your own power?" I grinned at her and did as she suggested. When we were all in the pool together, Susan sat on a step and cradled her mother's head on her lap while Kate just worked musk oil that was floating inches deep on the surface into Leila's skin. I could taste the bile in my mouth that came from seeing the whip cuts across her chest. Seeing what I was looking at, she murmured, "Don't worry about it, Matilda. They're almost all gone. I scarcely feel a thing now." Responding to what I interpreted to be an implicit invitation, I scooped some of the precious oil from the surface and moved up to her torso. Raising her body a bit up from the water, I smoothed it on her whip-scarred tits. Very gently I caressed her perforated nipple and felt it instantly harden under my fingers, in spite of the large hole running laterally through it. "Mommy gave me her nipple rings after they were made into earrings," Susan said softly. "Do you like them?" I looked at her and paid particular attention to the thickness of the loops. After all, if things went right, in a few months my nipples would be supporting rings exactly like them. "May I see one?" I asked. Knowing exactly what I meant, Susan released her mother, unfastened an earring, and passed it to me. Studying it carefully, I realized how thick it was and how heavy. I just shook my head and returned it. "Don't do it," Leila said. "It's really not a whole lot of fun. I'm marked for life now," she added. "Of course, I'm just a slut, so it doesn't matter. But as a reigning queen, it certainly should matter to you." Ignoring her words I said, "It's a rite of purification, isn't it? Before your slavery, you weren't a very good person." Looking at Kate I asked, "How about you?" She knew exactly what I meant, but could only shake her head. She had no idea. Looking back at Leila, I repeated, "Were you?" "I was a fatuous airhead," Leila replied softly. "Along with being a tub of lard." "And now?" "Now I'm a mutilated fatuous airhead," she replied. "But I'm no longer a tub of lard!" she concluded proudly. "No, Leila," I said softly, "you're most certainly not an airhead. The story of your personal heroism has already traveled the length and breadth of Europe. Your bravery and pure courage truly boggle the mind. But there's so much more. I look in your eyes and see into your soul. It is as pure as the new-driven snow. Leila Jones, you are beloved of God himself!" My eyes were piercing as I continued, "The brands you carry on your flanks, the holes in your nipples, and the scars on your body are a very cheap price to pay for what you have received. For what have you received, Leila Jones? Not much. Just the love of Almighty God!" My eyes were locked on hers. She tried to look away but found she could not. Finally she whispered, "No, Matilda, it wasn't too high a price to pay. In fact — and I have never told this to a living soul — when I gave so much blood to Susan and then to Mike, I did it in full knowledge of the fact that I was bleeding myself to death." Now her eyes became piercing, as she tried to communicate something to me. "You see, I wanted God to know that I love Susan and Mike more than my life itself. If by sacrificing my life I could save theirs, that is what I wanted to do." There was silence in the room with the only sound being the faintest sound of steam rising from the surface of the tub. Then speaking so softly as to be almost imperceptible, she murmured, "You'll make it, Mattie. I know you will. And I'll be praying for you." "Thank you, Leila Jones," I whispered. "Now I know I will make it, too." Then I lowered my head and melted my lips to hers. When I did, her hand came up behind my head to hold it in position while she worked her lips on mine. Then I could feel her small tongue penetrate into my mouth and do a dance with mine. When the two tongues met, there was electricity and bells, and fire throughout my body. But not only did I not faint, I could actually feel myself growing stronger. Then I could feel her lovely fingers moving over my own body with the greatest delicacy. When she gently ran them over my smooth flanks, I reciprocated. With my sensitive fingertips I could feel the royal seal of Essex branded into her ass cheeks. Two sets of fingers caressed the same spots on the other's body. Finally I eased from the kiss and said, "Next time you see me, darling Leila, we will be like twins. You will be able to feel the same royal seal on my ass cheeks that I feel on yours." After a pause I continued, "And to have anything at all in common with Leila Jones is truly a mark of distinction!" ------- Chapter 24 As I said at the outset, the purpose of my visit was to set the arrangements for my upcoming tour of duty as a slave to the royal court of Essex. Because of the distance and the slow speed of travel, I was planning on staying thirty days. As it happened, King William and Princess Julia were touring the far reaches of the realm and wouldn't come back until shortly before I was scheduled to return home. The result was that not only was I a royal guest, I was a guest in the royal apartment and slept each night with Kate. What an experience that was! If it is possible for there to be a perfect human, that person is Kate. From the very outset, she had me working on her exercise equipment and taught me how to swim. The two of us would spend hours in the pool. Of course Kate moved up and down with the speed and grace of a trapped porpoise, while I lumbered up and down like a dying whale. To my utter amazement, Kate herself did all the cooking and much of the cleaning besides. When I asked her about it, she only shrugged and said that with taxes so low, they had to economize somewhere, so... And it was a perfectly plausible story, too. I would have believed it had I not known that the problem in Essex was spending money, not getting it. Oh! I almost forgot. We spent all our time in the apartment naked. Kate said that because of all the months she spent as a slave, it was the only way that then felt natural to her. Since she carefully controlled my calories — but not her own, the bitch! — I was actually losing weight. On a particularly lovely late spring day, Kate decided to visit the village. My first surprise came when I found that all she was wearing was a pair of Levi cut-offs that ran only from a point low on her hips to about an inch or so below her crotch. Her only other garment was an ancient chambray shirt — or what was left of one. The sleeves had been ripped off at the shoulders — and I mean ripped! The edges were heavily raveled on both shoulders — and she tied what was left of its tails below her breasts exposing acres of bare flesh from immediately below her tits down to the top of her pubic hair. In fact, more than once during the day her shorts slipped lower exposing the upper edge of her dense pubic patch. Of course, her skin was utterly flawless and she was deeply tanned all over. When she flipped her hair back and secured it in a pony tail, she looked like a well-developed fifteen-year-old. Imagine my shock when she produced similar garments for me. "Where on earth did these come from?" I asked. "The royal tentmaker? He's the only one who could possibly make garments in these sizes." In response she only grinned. While I usually wear my hair in a bun — why, I have no idea — today she insisted that I wear a pony tail, too. Even though I started the "tail" at the top of my head, and my hair is really quite wavy, I ended with a golden tail reaching down my back almost to my waist. When I started to look around, she asked what I was looking for. When I told her I was looking for something to put on my feet, she wanted to know why. I just shook my head. "Habit, I guess." She said, "It's really neat to go barefoot when it's warm. Besides, you really need to start toughening your feet for the future." With that we headed down to the main part of the castle, and then out to the courtyard. Although there were guards on duty, there was no cavalry mounted and waiting, let alone any infantry. When I asked her where they were, she replied that they were drilling or doing whatever it is soldiers do during the day when there's no war to fight. "But surely you don't go down to the village alone?" I asked in utter amazement. "I'm not alone," she replied nonchalantly. "I'm with you." I was so astonished at this behavior, I didn't know what to say. Anyway, we strolled down the road to the village. Remarkably — in my experience, at least — Kate was repeatedly greeted with great warmth by everyone we encountered. Inevitably she would not only return the greeting, but would inquire about a family member, some problem she knew of, or something. She seemed to be on a first-name basis with everyone in the kingdom. Moreover, she was usually greeted as Kate, although occasionally as Queen Kate. But I saw something else. I saw intense love for her in the eyes of everyone we met, coupled with a level of respect verging on reverence. To my utter astonishment, this queen was truly loved by her people. When we reached the town, it was the same thing, only more so. The most incredible thing of all was the reaction of the children... all the children. Kate was like the Pied Piper. She attracted them the way a magnet attracts iron filings. And the way she played with them! She teased them, tousled them, and loved them. And after giving them a quick kiss, or a quick spank, inevitably she would find a coin on their persons. And the sounds? The one constant was the laughter and gaiety of small children. It was just so utterly marvelous! It was truly a joy for me just to watch. When we were well into the village, a door opened and a small girl came running out and hurled herself at Kate screaming, "Angel!" The little tyke was about four years old and was an utterly perfect little child. She had a sturdy little body with golden hair and brilliant blue eyes. Kate scooped the girl up, hugged her in her arms, and then melted her with a kiss. The girl had her arms tightly around Kate's neck and was hugging her as hard as she could. I could see the joy and Divine Grace flowing in rivers between them. Finally, they eased from their embrace and Kate introduced us. "Mattie, this is my friend — my very dear friend — Angel Martin." Turning to Angel she said, "Guess what? Mattie is a queen. A real one. Aren't you impressed?" (From the first time Leila tagged me "Mattie," I've been Mattie ever since. Heaven knows, it's a hell of an improvement over Matilda.) The little girl reached out for me and I took her in my arms. When I kissed her, I was almost overcome by the power of her love and grace. While I carried her in my arms, Kate led the way to an ice-cream parlor where we sat down at a table. Kate ordered banana splits for Angel and herself and a glass of spring water for me. (Thanks again, Kate!) While we were waiting I said, "Angel, you know that Kate is a queen, too, don't you? In fact, she is your queen." "She is?" the little girl exclaimed. "I didn't know that." Then she looked puzzled and added, "But how can an angel be a queen, too?" Then with her eyes wide she added, "You see, Mrs. Mattie, my name is 'Angel', but she is a real one. And she came down from Heaven just to take care of me. "Awhile ago, I got very sick. My daddy was away on a trip, and Mommy was taken to the hospital with something. Then I got sick, too. The doctors didn't know what it was, but they knew two things: First, it was highly contagious, so I was quarantined. Second, it was probably deadly, because there was no way of treating it. So there I was, alone at home... and I'm only four years old. I was very frightened. The last thing I remember was people hammering bars across all the doors so no one could get in and I couldn't get out. I guess I fell asleep or fainted or something. "Anyway, I guess it was the sound of the bars being ripped off the door that awakened me, but the next thing I knew, my Guardian Angel was in bed beside me. Her body is just so perfect! Exactly what an angel's body should be. I was starting to shiver with chills then, so she laid me across her body with my head between her breasts and just hugged me tightly. That's when I knew everything would be all right. My Guardian Angel would protect me." At that point the little girl looked at Kate with an expression of pure adoration. "All I remember after that was moving in and out of consciousness. But whenever I was awake, I was lying on her body. And she loved me, caressed me, and kissed me all over. When I started to get a little better, she made chicken soup. Boy, did I ever eat a lot of chicken soup! But like everything else about her, it was perfect, too." At that point a lovely young woman entered the ice-cream parlor, went to Kate and dropped to her knees. From her golden hair and brilliant blue eyes I concluded that this beautiful young woman was Angel's mother. She was. With tears streaming down her cheeks she said in a most beautifully cultured voice, "Your Majesty, what can Jim and I do? You saved the life of our darling Angel. Is there anything we can do for you? Anything at all? Could I enter your service as a slave, perhaps? Could I serve as a wet nurse for your children? Could I clean the sewers?" Then the girl just started to bawl. At this point, Kate took her in her arms, held her tightly and kissed her. At the same time, I lifted little Angel from her chair and hugged her close to my breast. Angel twisted around to be able to see her mother. When Kate kissed the woman, it was like nothing I've ever seen before. She literally poured joy and happiness into the young woman's body, along with a flood of Divine Grace. When they finally eased apart, the girl's eyes were literally glowing with happiness. Then she kissed Kate very lightly again, and then brought her fingers to her lips. Slowly shaking her head she said, "Angel is right, isn't she? You are truly an angel sent by God! And yet you serve us as our queen. What did the people of Essex ever do to be so lucky?" Then in a husky voice on the verge of tears she said forcefully, "God save the Queen!" To Kate's intense embarrassment, the other patrons in the ice-cream parlor — none of whom had previously acknowledged our presence — all echoed loudly, "God save the Queen!" In just a very short time, I was developing some appreciation for Kate. I had already come to realize that she was genuinely loved by her people. Of course she needed no protection! Her protection was the entire citizenry of Essex. To a man — and woman — they utterly adore her and would joyfully sacrifice their lives to protect her. What next? We resumed our walk down the street and came to a softball field where a team of teenaged boys were playing the girls. When the girls asked Kate to play with them for a while, the boys complained. I soon learned that they had good cause for their complaints. Kate pitched — they couldn't hit her — and batted — they couldn't get her out. In fact, even with the boys in the outfield playing so deep I thought they were in the next county, she still hit the ball over their heads. In the first inning with Kate pitching for the girls, I found myself on the bench sitting beside a lovely dark-haired young woman. While watching the action in the field, I took it upon myself to learn more about Kate and the Kingdom of Essex. I introduced myself as "Kate's friend, Mattie," and she told me her name was Jane. When I asked her what she thought of Kate, she looked at me strangely. At the same time, the three other girls who were not in the game moved closer to join the conversation. "What do I think of Kate?" Jane repeated. She looked thoughtful for a moment and then said simply, "I worship the ground she walks on." She paused and then added, "I guess that's all there is to say." "But why?" I persisted. "Mattie, I turn seventeen the end of this week. Until last year, that birthday wasn't celebrated by young women in Essex, it was dreaded. Why? Because that was the time most of us would have to sell ourselves into a lifetime of slavery to enable our parents to keep their homes. For me it was looming with particular dread." Jane paused to collect her thoughts and then continued, "It's obvious, I'm sure, that I'm pretty plain. I'm not very big either — I'm only five feet two — and I was scared to death that my parents would only get a few pieces of silver for my worthless body, not nearly enough for their tax bill." She shook her head and tears were beginning to flow. "From my point of view, I was looking at the worst-case scenario: I'm in a lifetime of slavery, but my parents lose their home anyway." "But then?" I prompted as she seemed to stop. "Then Queen Kate happened!" she replied joyously. "Now, I'm actually looking forward to my birthday." Then she lowered her voice and whispered, "My parents are laying on a big birthday party for me. It's supposed to be a surprise, and I don't want to spoil it for them..." "Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked. "Charley Simpson," she replied. "He's sitting fourth from the left on the bench over there." She indicated a good-looking dark haired young man. "Charley's joining the army when we graduate from school in June. I'll see him while he's serving, of course, and we hope to get married when he gets out." "Is he good in bed?" I asked. "I don't know how to answer that question," Jane replied. "His cock is utterly magnificent! I'm not sure how he'll be able to get it in me." Then she grinned and added, "But since I've learned how to deep-throat him and take him in my mouth up to his balls, I guess I'll do okay." Then she added, "His cunt-eating is utterly out of this world!" "I'm confused," I stuttered. "You don't know if he's good in bed, but you take his cock in your mouth and he eats your cunt. But don't you... ? I mean..." "Don't we fuck?" she interjected. "No, we don't. I'm still an unpenetrated virgin, and Charley's never been with a girl, either." "But..." I stammered. I was hopelessly confused. Jane gave me the cutest grin I've ever seen and said, "That's Queen Kate, too. She's sort of a one-woman sex education course in Essex. She meets with all the high-school girls, and she's really neat. She tells us how wonderful it is to be clean and pure for our husbands on our wedding night. She say's it's like breaking in a new car — whatever a car might be." She looked puzzled for a moment, then just shook her head and continued, "She told us how wonderful it was when she and Bill were married and he entered her virgin pussy for the first time..." "But she was prostituted, I thought..." I interjected. "She was," Jane answered matter-of-factly. "But notwithstanding, she was a virgin on her wedding night." She paused and thought for a moment, then continued, "Let's face it, Mattie: Kate is beloved by God Almighty. And for God to restore her virginity is no big deal, is it? And let's recognize another thing: God answers her prayers with monotonous regularity." She paused and then said, "You've probably seen it, too. As incredibly beautiful as she is externally, it is a fraction of her internal beauty and grace. That woman just radiates goodness. I guess it inspires us, too." Then she grinned and continued, "Of course, she's realistic, also. So she's the one who taught us how to really suck cock. She's given us pros and cons of all sorts of positions for making love. Working with us individually, she counsels us on makeup, hairdos, clothing styles... everything! And Charley tells me that King Bill is doing the same thing with the guys now, too." "What does he tell them?" I asked. "According to Charley, the primary thing he stresses is the importance of physical conditioning. He says that any girl who's been coached by Kate is going to be a man-eater. So being in top physical condition is a matter of pure survival," she said with a grin. Then she snapped her fingers and added, "Golly! I forgot the most important thing of all. It's something Kate's constantly stressing to us, and Bill, to the guys: Concentrate on creating the greatest possible pleasure for your mate, and you will increase your own at the same time. You can't lose in that game." With the loveliest smile she added, "I guess I forgot to mention it because for all of us girls that idea is just solidly embedded in our brains. We just take it for granted that that's the way we have to behave. "But to your question, I adore the woman who saved me from a life of slavery, and taught me how to be a loving — and very well loved — wife!" Turning to her friends she asked, "Do any of you want to add anything?" "I sure do!" exclaimed a lovely girl with light brown hair and big brown eyes. Her name was — not surprisingly — Sandy. "Jane, you didn't say a word about Princess Julia! And you sure can't leave her out." The girl focused her eyes on me and continued, "Julia's sort of our own age... and she's just so neat! You should see her with Bill Morrison. And we sure have! After all, Kate can't be everywhere, so Julia drags poor Bill in to use as a demonstration vehicle in giving blowjobs and in eating pussy. "The funniest thing I've ever seen was Julia lying on a mat in the gym with her legs spread wide while she's giving a blow-by-blow account of Bill eating her. Then when it was all over, and she had cum gallons — poor Bill's face was covered with her luscious syrup — she carefully licked it all off and then just melted her lips to his. It was the neatest thing I've ever seen. "And bodies? Good grief! The two of them are utterly magnificent together. And poor Bill! When she kissed him, we could all hear the bells and see the electricity flowing between them. And her body is as good as Kate's and Bill is a younger King Bill. Those two are just so perfect together." Sandy stopped for a moment to organize her thoughts, then continued, "I guess it's the physical and moral perfection of those two that is so incredibly attractive. And when Bill had to leave, Julia remained — still naked, of course — and gave us all pointers on physical conditioning. She says there's absolutely no excuse for a girl not to be attractive. Of course, none of us are close to her bodily perfection, but with her encouragement and counseling, I guess all of us are at least twice as attractive as we were just a few months ago. Julia focuses on our doing as much as we possibly can with what God has given us. "Take me, for example. In a one-on-one meeting, Julia had me strip and then just stand there. My first reaction was to cover my tits and pussy, but she slapped my hands away while she just inspected every inch of my body. Finally, she just nodded her head and gave me some instructions. For instance, I had a very hairy crotch which I sort of liked as a sign of womanhood. Julia just pointed out that the hair would just get caught in the guy's teeth when he's eating me out. 'And besides, ' she said, 'the guys just love it when they can see your love juices dripping from a bare pussy.' So, if you can imagine, she had me lay down on my back on a table with my legs spread wide so she could shave my pussy. "When my boyfriend, Jim, first saw it, he really went ape!" She shook her head and concluded, "Every single thing she ever told me has proven to be the Gospel truth." Shaking her head again she murmured, "I utterly adore that girl!" Sandy glanced over her shoulder and saw that the boys on the opposite bench were focused on our little group. With a grin and after quickly sticking out her tongue, she slipped off her top leaving her body bare to the waist. But only her bare back was visible to the boys. "Here's another example," she said. "I'm kind of small on top, but my tits are at least twice the size they used to be. And I guess I used to be sort of embarrassed by my small size so my posture was atrocious. Julia convinced me that my nipples are kind of cute and she showed me how to keep them hard." With a lovely grin she added, "I never wear a bra anymore, and I just love it when I glance down and see my nipples poking holes in my shirts. I guess I've developed a little pride in my body, anyway." The other girls then chimed in with their own personal experiences. It just amounted to more and more of the same thing. What it boils down to is they all utterly adored Kate — and Julia! After two innings, during which Kate had given the girls a seven-run lead, we left. Kate had a streak of dirt on her calf and a big smudge on her cheek, but her eyes were glowing with happiness. She really loved it. And in spite of their grumbling, so did the guys. Kate smothered her laughter when one of the guys said loudly as we walked away, "Guys, do you think any of these girls will ever have a fraction of the body Queen Kate has? She is really neat! And her body?" With that, he let out a wild whistle of appreciation. And Kate? We were walking away, but she gave her hips a sharp bump which wiggled her lovely little ass. We went down the street trailed by a chorus of wolf whistles while she continued to swing her hips in a bawdy fashion. Our next stop was a tavern, the Sign of the Golden Bear. When we entered, we were greeted by a young woman who seemed somehow familiar. She was wearing a form-fitting red bodice with a tiny skirt. As tiny as it was, it was hiked up in front to fully reveal her pubic patch and her vulva. In the rear, her ass was bare. Moreover, the bodice ended below the rouged nipples of her breasts which were also bare. "Good afternoon, ladies," she greeted us. "My name is Sally, and I'm here to serve you in any way you may wish." "Thank you, Sally," Kate replied, "but first I wish to see Edmund and Hortense." As Sally disappeared toward the rear, Kate quickly went to the door and waved her hand in a signal. Almost instantly, four troopers from the Queen's Own Mounted Infantry appeared along with their sergeant. Where they came from, I have no idea. Later I asked Kate about it. She told me with a sheepish smile that it was a result of the unit's name, the Queen's Own. Regardless of her expressed wish to be left alone and unaccompanied, they were dedicated to protecting her. The result was that there was always a detachment of troopers close by, even though they knew that if she ever caught even a glimpse of them they were toast for disobeying her orders. Nevertheless, the troopers were the best looking, best equipped, and best trained fighting men I've ever seen. I would match those five against any platoon of infantry in Europe. At any rate, moments later a homely man and a fat woman appeared. When they caught sight of Kate, their first instinct was to flee, but there were troopers with weapons drawn barring every exit. Such action would have been distinctly hazardous to their health. (Possibly as hazardous as cigarette smoking, but I really don't know.) The one person who seemed utterly baffled by events was Sally. She found herself between Edmund and Hortense on one side and Kate on the other, but didn't know what to do. At that point Kate rose from her chair, went to the young woman and took her in her arms. When her arms closed on the girl's back, she winced. That was obviously what Kate was looking for. "Sally," she said softly, "in spite of my appearance, I am Queen Katherine of Essex, as these troopers will attest. No one will hurt you ever again! Do you understand?" The girl's eyes widened like saucers. She could scarcely even nod. Then Kate said, "I hope it won't be too embarrassing for you, Sally, but please take off that... that... garment." Moving as if in a trance, the girl did what Kate ordered. In an instant, she was naked. When she was, Kate turned the girl's body so I could see her back. It was bleeding from more than a dozen fresh whip cuts. Kate just motioned to the sergeant who instantly whipped off his light cloak and gave it to her. Very gently she wrapped it around the girl and led her to our table. Turning to Edmund she asked, "Do you have a decent cook here, now? As you probably know, the Golden Bear's loss was the palace's gain. Ellie is the maitresse de cuisine at the palace now. And I'm sure you'll be delighted to learn that her children are thriving. Her oldest is going to the university. And she has a new home in which each child has his own room. She's very happy now, I'm delighted to say." Suddenly her voice took on a tone of menace as she repeated, "Do you have a decent cook?" The poor man could only nod, tentatively at first, but then rapidly. "Great!" she exclaimed. "Produce a steak dinner for this young lady, instantly! In the meantime, bring out your finest ale. And when you've placed the order, take Hortense out back, give her forty lashes well laid on across her back and tits. She will then serve us naked while the troopers take care of you. Now move!" The man fled toward the kitchen, but two troopers were right beside him to ensure that the Queen's commands were immediately carried out. Turning her attention to the girl, Sally, Kate very gently straightened the cape and ensured that it covered her body properly. Then after looking deep into her eyes, she moved her head and melted her lips to the girl's. I could see the girl's eyes widen at the initial contact. But then, as she felt Kate's love pour into her body, she just melted in Kate's arms. In moments, the girl was crying her heart out. It was as if a dam had burst. To my utter amazement, Kate lifted the girl from her chair and set her down across her lap. Placing the girl's head on her shoulder, Kate gently stroked the girl's wavy hair and just listened as she cried her heart out. Slowly, her crying stopped. Then Sally just rested her head on Kate's shoulder and relished the sense of warmth and protection she was enjoying for the first time in months, if not years. Finally, she raised her head and focused her gorgeous green eyes on Kate's. After what seemed like hours, she finally whispered, "Who are you? I know you're Queen Katherine, but who are you? Are you an angel come to earth?" She slowly shook her head and added, "You can't be human. You're too good. You're much too kind. That kiss... It was like nothing I've ever felt in my life. You just poured love and joy and Divine Grace into my body. Humans can't do that. Who are you?" "Darling Sally," Kate replied, "like you, I was a slave to Edmund and Hortense little more than a year ago. I know — painfully — what they're like. But tell me about yourself. Where are you from? Why is such a beautiful girl like you serving as a slave?" The girl had been looking at me closely. Now she said, "I'm from Slobovia..." Suddenly her eyes widened. She hopped off Kate's lap and dropped to her knees before me. Then she kissed my now-very-dirty bare feet and said, "You are Queen Matilda, aren't you?" Embarrassed as hell, I could only nod my head. Excited now, she looked up and said, "Your Royal Highness, I owe you so much! Do you remember the auction where you told a girl how to behave to get the best possible price for her parents? Well, that was me!" Now Sally was truly excited as she continued, "And you were so right, too! I was sold for almost twice as much as the next-highest-priced girl. I produced so much money my parents now have enough for two years' taxes. Isn't that neat? They might not even have to sell my younger sister, Judy, into slavery, either. So thank you so much, Your Majesty! You were so nice." When she was only half way through, I was in tears. Before she finished, I was crying my eyes out. When she finished, I dropped to my knees on the floor and kissed her feet. Straightening up on my knees, I took the girl in my arms and hugged her tightly, forgetting her brutally tortured back. But the girl just winced and hugged me tightly, too. Then I kissed her and tasted Kate's love and grace in Sally's kiss. Finally I eased away, and with tears still flowing down my cheeks I said, "Sally, I am so utterly ashamed! I remember you. I handled your tits with the end of my riding crop, didn't I?" The girl just nodded, but seemed puzzled. "And I ran my finger down your slit, too?" Again Sally nodded. At that I smiled bitterly and said, "Darling Sally, in a couple of months I will be a beast of burden for her majesty, Queen Kate. I will be part of a team pulling a pony cart. I sincerely hope you will be around to debase me in any way your mind can conceive because, God knows, I need it. I need it desperately." Turning to Kate I asked, "May I buy this girl's freedom? Please, Kate?" "There's no need, Mattie," she replied, "Sally is free right now. Edmund has been under court order not to abuse his slaves. Clearly, he's what the educators call a slow learner. But since he has abused her terribly, he's lost her." Turning to Sally she said, "Child, you're free to go. And you will be going with a heavy sack of Edmund's gold, too. But what do you want to do? Do you wish to return home to Slobovia? Would you like to remain here? What would you like to do?" Without answering, Sally jumped to her feet, ran to one of the troopers and threw herself into his arms. Momentarily nonplused, the trooper was taken aback, but then he hugged Sally tightly and melted his lips to hers. Everyone could see the electricity flowing between the young couple and hear the bells. When their kiss ended, Sally took the young man's hand and hauled him over to us. Then looking at him she said, "Jack, I'm free! I am truly a free woman again." Then to us she said, "Your Majesties, may I present my lover, John Johnson." Then she said proudly, "Now that I'm free, I'm going to be Jack's mistress." Before either Kate or I could speak, Johnson said, "You are like hell! You're going to be my wife, Sally Schmidt, whether you like it or not..." "Don't be ridiculous, Jack!" the girl exclaimed. "I've been a prostitute. I've sold my body — every possible opening — dozens of times. I've picked up money with my cunt! Jack Johnson, you're just crazy as hell!" Turning to Kate, Johnson asked, "What does Your Majesty think?" Standing up straight Kate said imperiously, "Sally Schmidt! Down on your knees before me!" The girl's eyes widened, but she jumped to obey. In an instant she was on her knees looking up at Kate. "Sally Schmidt, it is my royal command that you marry John Johnson tomorrow morning at eleven. I shall be there to give you in holy matrimony in the absence of your parents. Do you understand?" "But, Your Majesty..." Sally began. "Do you understand?" Kate repeated with emphasis. "Your marriage is not optional. Am I making myself clear?" "Yes, Your Majesty, you are very clear," the girl replied, now utterly defeated. "Trooper Johnson, you are getting one of the finest young women now resident in my kingdom as your wife. But you are getting something else: You are also receiving her dowry which is now twenty sacks of gold. Is that adequate?" Since a sack of gold was about what Johnson earned in two years, the sum was about forty years' pay — a working lifetime. The poor man was utterly speechless. Instead of speaking, he raised Sally up from the floor, and drew her into his arms. This kiss had at least ten times the power of the one before. When they finally eased apart, he said softly, "My darling Sally, guess what? Now we can even buy and furnish a cottage of our very own. A new one! And... and... and if Her Majesty approves, perhaps you could even become a citizen of Essex. Would you like that?" "My darling," she whispered, "being your wife is beyond my wildest dreams and hopes. But to have a home of our own... To... to... to give birth to your children..." Her eyes widened and she asked, "Jack, do you like children? Do you want me to have children... ?" "My darling, nothing could possibly thrill me more!" he exclaimed. "My God! To have you as my wife... To have a home of our own... To see you pregnant with our children... To see you nurse them at your breast..." He couldn't go on. Jack Johnson had just achieved the dream of his lifetime. But then he dropped to his knee in front of Kate and said, "Your Majesty, this is just one more reason why you are utterly adored by the people of Essex. You devote your life to increasing the happiness of others — all the others! You spread joy wherever you go." He paused, looked deeply into her eyes and added, "You are truly an angel come to earth!" With that he took Kate's hand and kissed its back tenderly. But was that enough for Kate? Hah! She took his hand, pulled him toward her and kissed him. Johnson's eyes widened, then he began to futilely wave his arms, and finally just collapsed. As usual, Kate easily held him up, and then rested his head on her shoulder. When he regained consciousness, he just shook his head and said, "I was right. You aren't human. You are an angel come to earth. No human can possibly kiss with the power you have." Turning to Sally he said, "My darling, I can't tell you how happy I am now. I'm sure you will still be feeling the joy that our queen injected in me months from now. But I am a very fortunate man. Unlike our poor king, I don't have to contend with the limitless love our queen dumps on every body and every thing." He shook his head and added, "Of course, King William is in better shape than any ten men in the regiment. But I guess his very survival depends on it, doesn't it?" While this exchange had been going on, Kate had been thinking. Now she said, "I have changed my mind. The wedding will not take place tomorrow." The two young people looked at her in shock and stark amazement. Suddenly their shared dreams of happiness had come crashing down around them. But before Sally could break down in tears Kate continued, "I was being my usual thoughtless self when I announced the wedding for tomorrow." Turning to the girl she asked, "Have you given any thought to becoming Jack's wife?" The bewildered girl didn't know what to say. All she could do was to slowly shake her head. "I thought not," Kate continued, "and that isn't fair. A girl needs to dream about her wedding. She needs to fret over her gown. Guests must be invited." Shaking her head, Kate continued, "The wedding will be a week from Saturday at eleven." "But what will I do in the meantime?" the girl asked. "Do... do I stay here, and—" "Of course not!" Kate interrupted. "Since I am giving the bride in marriage, you will stay with us until then. After all, as the acting mother of the bride I do have a few things to say about the gown, the reception... Besides," she added happily, "it will provide me with necessary experience for when Princess Julia is wed." Turning to the sergeant she said, "Please detail Trooper Johnson to convey Miss Schmidt to the royal apartment. He can bring your cloak back to you here." Then her demeanor changed dramatically. "Sergeant, are you familiar with the activities here at the Golden Bear?" The sergeant was embarrassed but admitted that he was. "Great!" she exclaimed. "You will ensure that Hortense serves all the guests here in exactly the same fashion girls like Sally have been forced to. However, we will dispense with the scraps of material that Edmund calls a uniform. She will serve all comers naked, but will offer all of the same services. Do you understand?" With a grin he said he did. "Good. I will make arrangements with the colonel for your detail to be relieved appropriately. However, you will ensure that service is continued at the Golden Bear in its accustomed fashion. First, though, you will administer forty lashes to Edmund. Each morning, he is to whip Hortense with ten additional strokes — the customers like to see fresh whip cuts, don't you agree? — and you or the detail commander will give him an additional ten. These are in addition to any the two may earn because of a lack of attention to detail." Ellie would be coming down from the castle to supervise the kitchen again, and Hortense was to be placed on a diet. "It's really unfair to the customers to inflict that fat pig on them. She will be slimmed down. Am I making myself clear?" "Very clear, Your Majesty," the sergeant replied. "In fact, this is going to be fun! May I detail Corporals Cooper and Hodges? They have some... personal scores... to settle." At this Kate jumped from her chair, gave the sergeant a quick but powerful kiss, and said, "It's wonderful to have such intelligent noncommissioned officers in the King's service. By all means detail Cooper and Hodges." Then she thought for a moment and added, "As a matter of fact, perhaps you might consider hiring Martha Cooper and Susan Hodges as... consultants. Paid from Edmund's funds, of course." And so it was settled. ------- Chapter 25 When we returned to the apartment we found Sally Schmidt naked on her knees waiting for us at the door. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf, but was in the submissive's posture with her hands behind her head, her knees spread wide, her tits upthrust, and her eyes downcast. "What on earth are you doing?" Kate exclaimed. "I was waiting for your return, Your Majesty, so that I may be instructed in my duties," she replied softly. "Well, your first duty is to refer to me as Kate, and my friend here as Mattie. Understand?" With her eyes as big as saucers, the girl just nodded. "Now let's get you cleaned up. When did you last have a bath?" The poor girl couldn't remember the last one she had had, so Kate helped her up. It took only an instant for Kate to shed the two scraps of fabric she was wearing which she did as she led Sally to the bathroom. The girl's reaction was even stronger than mine had been. When Kate glared at me, I shed my clothes, too, and the three of us got into the shower. Under Kate's tender ministrations, the girl's body came clean for possibly the first time in years. After three rounds of shampooing Sally's hair emerged as an incredibly rich chestnut color. With her emerald-green eyes, the girl was a stunning beauty. At her own insistence, Sally had me on my knees in the shower for what seemed like hours, shampooing my mane of hair. When I looked at myself in the mirror, it turned out that under the years' accumulation of grime, my hair was truly golden. Following this, Kate led us to the sauna — another new experience for both of us — and we looked on in horror as she scraped what appeared to be layers of filth from what we both thought were clean bodies. This was followed by immersion in that liquid refrigerator just outside the sauna. Kate howled with laughter as we both screamed in shock when we found ourselves in 38-degree water. Extending a hand to each of us, she effortlessly lifted us both from the pool and then ran back to the bathroom where we jumped into the hot pool. This time I cradled Sally's head between my mountainous tits while Kate very gently worked musk oil into her skin. Finally, she gave the girl the first body massage she had ever had. While lying face down on the table, Sally fell sound asleep while Kate gently treated the whip cuts on her back. After carrying the sleeping girl back to the bedroom, she gently lay her on the crisp sheets and covered her lightly. Even in her sleep, we could see the girl's body move sinuously on the marvelous bed as it savored the feeling. Leaving her, we went out to the kitchen where Kate prepared dinner. When preparations were complete, we returned to the bedroom where Kate gently lifted the covers from the sleeping girl. The instant she pulled them back, I was almost overcome by a marvelous scent. When I asked, Kate told me that it was the natural fragrance of Sally's body. "Isn't it neat, Mattie?" she said. "Can you imagine how Jack is going to feel awakening every day with that fragrance in the bed beside him?" Meanwhile, the sleeping girl was futilely trying to find her missing covers, although still asleep. At that point, Kate lowered her head and very lightly kissed the girl full on her lips. Already partially awake as a result of feeling chilled, the girl's eyes opened. Reaching up, she held her hand behind Kate's head and slowly moved her lips on hers. When they eased apart, Sally said softly, "You see, Majesty... Kate... ! I really am learning. When I kissed you this time, I was already flat on my back, so I couldn't fall over." Then she stretched her lovely body on the bed and asked, "What now?" "Now, young lady, you eat." Kate then apologized to the girl for taking her away from the Golden Bear without having a chance to eat the steak dinner that had been ordered for her. Taking her by the hand, Kate led the still-sleepy girl into the small dining room. When she saw it for the first time, Sally stopped short and gasped, "My God! Am I supposed to eat here?" "What's wrong with it?" Kate asked, barely able to quell her giggles. "It's... it's... it's so utterly magnificent!" the girl replied. And indeed it was. The table was set for three, with a centerpiece of lovely fresh-cut summer flowers. Because it had gotten so late, even though it stays light quite late in the spring, it was already dark outside. The table was lighted only by candles burning in two candelabra. Only then did Sally realize she was still nude. When she pointed this out to Kate, the girl just looked down at her own incredible body and feigned amazement, then looked at me, and finally said, "You're absolutely right, Sally. I'm truly glad you noticed. And since you mentioned it, Mattie and I are naked, too." The girl raised an eyebrow and said finally, "You wouldn't be teasing me, would you, Kate?" With her eyes totally guileless and as wide as saucers, she said, "Moi? Tease you?" Why, Sally Schmidt, whatever could you possibly be thinking of?" Then she just giggled merrily. Dinner that night was very simple, consisting of magnificent sirloin steaks that had been flown in from a place called Omaha, in a country called the United States. (But how are they flown in? Are they carried by eagles, do you suppose? And what are the united states? A confederation of some kind, somewhere?) Anyway, the steaks were accompanied by souffléd potatoes, and followed by a magnificent garden salad. After eating her first bite, Sally looked at Kate and asked, "Could I change my mind?" When Kate asked her what she wanted to change her mind about, the girl replied, "About getting married. Instead, could I be your body slave? And no money will change hands this time, either. I will be doing it voluntarily." She paused and then added, "The only charge would be that I would get to eat the food at this table once every six months or so. And get to spend one night each year in that glorious bed or one like it. That's all I ask. May I do that, Kate?" It was then that I realized what an incredibly expressive face Kate has. Without saying a word, as Sally spoke we could initially see acceptance, then enthusiasm, then scepticism, but finally flat refusal. Although she had still not spoken a word, her reactions were as plain as day, so Sally continued, "But why not? Why can't I be your slave?" "Because, my darling," Kate replied, "I'm a sadist is why not. And as the sadist I am, I will not permit it. You night enjoy it too much." Now Kate's voice took on the sound of authority pronouncing sentence on a criminal. "Oh, no, Sally Schmidt, I will not let you off that easily. Instead, you are sentenced to marry Jack Johnson. And as his wife, you'll really be in for it! You must cook and clean, do the housework... and a woman's work is never done, we know. But when you're ready to collapse from utter exhaustion, can you just comfortably go to sleep? Of course not. You must repeatedly open your body to almost constant repetitive assaults on your womanhood. As you've already discovered, men have a thing between their legs — and Jack's is huge! — that they use to penetrate your loins, your bum, your mouth... every possible opening. And is this only once or twice a year? Hah! It's not even as seldom as once or twice a night! Particularly with a wife as beautiful as you are. "Will you be living in a palace? Of course not. You will have a large house to maintain, with no servants! While the kitchen, dining room, bedrooms, and so forth will be like this, you won't even have a swimming pool! And I can assure you that it's nearly impossible to swim laps in the bathing pool. And while my royal shower has six banks of shower heads on three walls, yours will have only four. You won't even have a tennis court. And the exercise facility won't be nearly as large as mine." Now Kate was smiling happily, ostensibly thinking of the punishment awaiting Sally. Then she nodded her head firmly and concluded, "Finally, to make it even worse, your sentence is for a lifetime." After a pause she added, "I guess I fixed you, didn't I?" "Are you serious, Your Majesty?" Sally asked. "About our house, I mean? Could there possibly be a house as palatial as the one you described?" "Palatial? Not hardly!" Kate replied. "And just you wait. As soon as we finish dinner, you have to do the dishes, the pots, the pans... I'm sure you'll be thoroughly miserable." Then she snapped her fingers and added, "By the way... The house is our wedding gift to you and Jack. You can use some of your money for the odds and ends you'll need." After clearing the plates — Sally jumped to her feet to help — Kate brought out apple pie served with ice cream for dessert. This was replaced with a cheese platter and finally coffee was served. Along with it she served the most incredible cognac I have ever tasted, and then produced a cigar humidor. When she took a light panatella for herself, I followed suit, and after overcoming her initial fear, Sally did, too. When I had a sip and then a puff on the cigar, I felt so marvelously expansive, I pushed my chair back from the table and let my body sag down on it as I savored the taste sensations. Totally disregarding the whip cuts scoring her back, Sally did, too. Then with an eager expression on her face she asked, "Do you cater... ? Or do take-out?" Kate howled with laughter at Sally's quip and then giggled merrily as the girl continued, "I mean... Well, it's a well-known fact that if the taxes here in Essex were ten times higher than they are, they would still be the lowest in Europe... And this is certainly not the lowest-cost palace to have to maintain... So... I mean... when you need a little extra spending money — for a new tower on the castle, for example — you might want to have a little outside income, so..." "Sally Schmidt, you are too damned much!" Kate enthused. "I really don't see how you can do it. This morning you were viciously beaten, and yet tonight you can crack jokes." Then Kate became serious as she added, "The indomitable human spirit... Sally Schmidt, you are a wonderful person." Then Kate changed the subject a bit and said, "You mentioned a younger sister, Judy. Do you have any other brothers or sisters?" Suddenly the girl's expression changed totally. Sadly she said, "I have an older sister, Kathy." Then the girl started to cry. Sally is not a small girl. She's about the same height as Kate — five feet eight — and weighs a bit more: probably 130 pounds. Nevertheless, Kate lifted the girl from her chair as if she were a feather, then sat down again sitting Sally across her lap. Hugging the girl closely Kate said softly, "Do you want to tell us about Kathy?" The story she told was an utter horror: "Kathy is also a slave, of course," Sally began. "She's been enslaved for over five years now. Her owners use her as a brood mare and a milch cow. The first thing they did was to breed her. She was scarcely sixteen at the time, and a virgin as I was. They placed her in a room with a young man. It was dark all the time... or almost all the time. One wall was entirely one-way glass. "Whenever the lights came on, she and the man had to fuck. A voice over a speaker would tell them how she was to be taken. One time there were five men and Kathy. She was fucked repeatedly, all night long — or all day. Because the room was always dark and there was no way of telling time, she had no idea what time it was when the lights came on. This even continued for months into her pregnancy. "One of the toughest things was having to give birth unassisted. She even had to lick her infant clean, and bite off its umbilical cord with her teeth. Only then was she allowed out of the room for the first time in about a year. She was used as a milch cow for a couple of years until her breasts ran dry and then the cycle repeated. Since she gave birth to another child a few months ago, she's now back in her milch-cow rôle. Needless to say, any resistance on her part is grounds for a merciless whipping." "So your sister has given birth to two children by different fathers?" Kate asked. "Two births," Sally said, "but she's almost certain they're by the same father. His name is Ken Smith, and she really likes him. When they're together, he's really nice to her. He gives her the best food — over her strenuous objections — and holds her tightly against the cold. I guess he's a wonderful guy, and she... she really loves him. 'Like' just doesn't do it." "But how do you know all this?" Kate asked. "How can she communicate?" "She has letters smuggled out occasionally," Sally replied. "It's very interesting, though. Kathy says that things began to change around Christmastime, last year. Since then her owners have been particularly concerned about any communications getting off the property." Then she looked at Kate and said, "That must have been your doing, Kate. She is kept as a slave here in Essex." Instantly, Kate's attitude changed to one of determination. "Do you know where she is kept?" she asked. Remarkably, Sally did. When Kate was told the location, she immediately left the table. Moments later she was at the door of the apartment, now wearing a terry bathrobe, and in intense conversation with a senior officer of a Guards regiment. As Kate talked — undoubtedly telling him about Kathy — I could see the look of horror on his face. Finally, he drew himself up to rigid attention, executed a perfect salute, and hurriedly left. Moments later, Kate rejoined us after shrugging off her robe. After a second cognac, it was apparent that Sally was tiring rapidly. "Well," Kate announced, "I guess it's time to put you to work." When Sally looked puzzled, Kate continued, "I said just a short time ago that a woman's work is never done. Sally Schmidt, it may not have registered in your pea brain yet, but you are a woman. Now get to work!" The girl jumped from her chair but had no idea of what she was expected to do. "The dishes, silly!" Kate exclaimed. Then the three of us took the rest of the dishes out to the kitchen where Kate demonstrated to Sally's utter astonishment how to load a dishwasher. "You mean it does all the cleaning by itself?" the girl exclaimed. "Well... it does clean them," Kate conceded, "but there's still a lot of work to be done. You have to put them in all by yourself. And then you have to empty it. Although they're working on it, they still haven't come up with a unit that puts the dishes away, either." In just moments, the dishwasher had come to life and we returned to the bedroom. "Now your real work begins," Kate said. "And boy, are you in for it! Do you know what you have to do now?" Kate's tone of voice suggested that, whatever it was, it was really awful. "You have to get in that bed, and spend the rest of the night hugging Mattie!" She raised her hands as if to ward off any objection and continued, "And in spite of her diseased sex and atrocious body odor, you must melt your body to hers and try to warm her cold cunt with your hot one. I expect your pubic patches to have grown together by morning. Hear?" "Yes, ma'am," Sally replied with her eyes dancing, "I hear you loud and clear. But what are you going to be doing?" "Hah!" Kate exclaimed. "That's the most painful part. In spite of your wounds, I am going to spend all night gouging your back with my nipples. Now get into bed. It's getting late and I'm getting cold!" The girl just grinned happily and jumped into bed. I got in beside her and took her into my arms. Instantly I smelled the lovely fragrance of her young body. Kate got into bed on the other side and did what she said she would. Lying on her side, she gently moved her tits against Sally's tortured back. But the girl was irrepressible. She whispered, "It must be my experience as a slave, Mattie. I am already immunized against the rotting stench emitting from your body!" At that crack I gently pinched her bottom. All that did was to cause her to say, "You're a big woman, Mattie. Surely you can pinch harder than that." When I did, she just giggled and ground her pelvis into mine. With Kate's arm over Sally's body, and reaching across to mine, we all fell asleep. The last thing I remember that night was feeling the softest pair of lips melting against mine and then the sweetest, most innocent kiss. The next morning, I awakened with the most marvelous scent in my nostrils. As I began to emerge from a wonderfully deep sleep, I realized that I was still in Sally's embrace. When I moved the slightest bit, the girl moved her pelvis against mine, and I knew that we had adhered to Kate's instructions. Our pubic patches were entwined. Then I realized that Sally's eyes were open wide, although she hadn't moved her upper body. While she just looked into my eyes, she cocked her pelvis and I did to. It was the strangest sensation to be looking deeply into the eyes of a person with whom I was sexually connected. Then our clits touched sending waves of heat through my body. Seeing Sally's eyes lose focus, I could tell that she was feeling something similar. Then I felt Kate's hand on my back, pulling me toward her while she mashed Sally's body even tighter between us. Suddenly my pelvis was in spasm as I was swept with an intense orgasm, made even more intense by the spasms in Sally's pelvis that I was feeling in mine. I was the first to move enough for our clits to lose contact, but continued to hold the girl tightly in my arms. When her eyes again focused, she smiled warmly and melted her lips to mine in a loving, if passionless, kiss. Then she turned her head almost completely around. Seeing what she was doing, Kate lifted her body and kissed the girl in the same way I had. At that Sally resumed her previous position, and Kate pulled herself even tighter against the girl's back, while Sally tried to flatten my tits with her own. Sighing she murmured, "My children will never believe I actually spent a night sleeping mashed between two reigning queens. And when I tell them it was the best night I've ever spent in my life, they won't believe that, either. But what will really blow their minds will be when I tell them that I was mashed so close to one by the other's tits against my back that our pubic hair entwined, and I came to orgasm when my clit touched hers." Hearing her words, I eased away, hopped out of bed and located a pair of small scissors. Returning to the bed, I put one foot on it and then cut a lock of hair along the edge of my pubic patch. (I had already resolved to cut back all of my pubic hair to a small dense patch above my slit the way Kate had hers.) When I looked at the small collection of hairs, I began to giggle. There, along with my golden hairs were a few chestnut-colored ones. Carefully offering them to Sally I said, "Darling, I have a souvenir for you. A lock of my pubic hair. And if you look carefully, you'll see a few chestnut hairs mixed in with them." The girl looked at the tiny collection and began to howl with laughter. Our day was a very busy one. We started off with a shower, then a swim with Kate giving pointers to both Sally and me, followed by a sauna. After working out on the exercise equipment, with Kate carefully explaining the various machines because Sally's new house would have the same ones, we took a shower. Only then did we eat breakfast, with me trying to survive on starvation rations. And I had already lost nearly ten pounds! After breakfast, Sally and I spent an excruciating few hours with tweezers pulling out each other's pubic hair except for the dense patch above our slits. After checking on Sally's tortured back — her degree of recovery was so great, it appeared she might even be able to wear a backless wedding gown — Kate and I worked on etiquette, manners, behavior, speech patterns, and even her studies. As we both had already suspected, Sally was a brilliant young woman whose mind soaked up new knowledge like a sponge. And like a sponge with water, she seemed to truly thirst for knowledge. In the afternoon, we soaked up the sun while lying naked beside the swimming pool. At five o'clock, Kate received a very brief phone call to which she responded only in cryptic monosyllables. Taking us both into the bath, we soaked in the tub, then Kate gave Sally another massage and finally restyled her hair. (If there is anything of significance Kate can't do, it must be very trivial or very obscure!) Finally she produced a new summery green dress which showed off Sally's incredible beauty. While all this was going on, Sally was becoming increasingly puzzled, and finally asked what was going on? What was the great occasion? Kate just shrugged it off with the comment that every woman feels good dressing up once in a while. Sally pointed out that she had never looked half so elegant in her entire life. Then Sally sat watching as Kate dressed in a lovely sheer white dress that revealed the perfection of her body, as well as her pink nipples and auburn pubic patch. When I pointed out how revealing it was, Kate's only comment was that both the people in the kingdom and the palace staff were far more used to seeing her completely naked. Seeing her nipples would be nothing new. When it was my turn, I put on my best spring dress... and started to cry. To bawl, in fact. It hung on me like a tent, indicating that the scales had not lied. Already I had lost over fifteen pounds, and nothing I owned fit any more. After a call from Kate, a few moments later a small army of dressmakers appeared. In no time they had altered my dress to fit. When I was about to give them the others to be altered to match, Kate just shook her head and said it would be a waste of money. By the time the alterations were complete, I would have lost enough additional weight so they wouldn't fit then, either. All I could do was to roll my eyes. Shortly before six-thirty, we were downstairs and out in the palace courtyard where Kate showed us some of the prize spring flowers her gardeners had produced for her. The head gardener was standing by and positively beamed with joy at his queen's words. Again I was reminded of the extent to which everyone who knew her did things for her because they loved her so much. And never was there a woman so deserving of love. While we were admiring the flowers and shrubs, a mounted detail of the Queen's Own rode smartly into the courtyard, followed by two closed coaches. The officer in charge of the detail quickly dismounted, went to the door of the first coach, pulled down the steps and opened the door. Then he handed out a lovely young woman wearing an officer's riding cloak who was blinking in the bright light after emerging from the darkness of the closed coach. Seeing the hair and the facial features, I knew in an instant that this woman must be Sally's older sister, Kathy. Quickly, I turned toward Sally to see her reaction when she saw her sister. I was not disappointed. With a loud scream of "Kathy!" the girl hurled herself into her sister's arms. The instant Kathy realized who it was, both of the girls were sobbing with joy as they hugged each other with all their might. Meanwhile, the officer was lifting down a four-year-old boy, and then handed down a handsome young man, also wrapped in a cloak, holding an infant in his arms. When the baby began to cry, a lovely young woman came from the palace, took the infant and comforted it in her arms. But the baby wanted milk not comforting, so the girl bared a perfect breast and offered her nipple to the infant who instantly began to nurse hungrily. With the babe still feeding happily at her breast, the girl returned to the palace. Meanwhile, guards appeared at the second coach and hauled out a man and a woman who were in chains. They were hustled off toward the dungeons. The little boy was looking around at the royal palace with his eyes as wide as saucers, while his father held him by the hand. Just then a little golden dynamo ran up to him and said, "Hi! My name is Angel Martin. What's yours?" The little boy looked at the beautiful Angel and smiled. "My name is Ken Smith, and this is my father. Since his name is Ken, too, I'm known as Kenny." Then he added, "You're very beautiful, Angel. Will you be my friend?" "I sure hope so," she replied, "because you're going to be staying with us for a while." Then she went up to the older Ken, extended her hand upward and said, "How do you do, Mr. Smith. My name is Angel Martin and I'm very pleased to meet you." Smith was utterly bewildered. Then Kate went to him and told him — to his utter astonishment — that he and Kathy were to be wed a week from the following Saturday. Until then, Kathy would be staying in the royal apartments and he would be staying in the senior officers' quarters, using Major Fletcher's apartment. She explained that there was a wet nurse for the infant, and Kenny would be staying with the Martins. At that point Mary Martin came up and introduced herself. Ken Smith was thunderstruck and totally baffled. Just that morning he had been a slave. In fact he carried fresh whip marks on his back. Now he was a guest of the officers, and was scheduled to marry the love of his life. Although he couldn't be sure, it seemed both he and Kathy were now free. As he extended his hand to Mary Martin, Kate came up. To Mary she said, "Thank you so much for agreeing to take care of Kenny Smith for me. Would ten pieces of gold a day be sufficient for his room and board, do you think?" "Queen Kate!" Mary exclaimed. "Do you have a fully-developed death wish? Because, after all you've done for our family, to fulfill your death wish, all you need to do is offer us one thin copper! Do you understand?" Tears were flowing from her eyes, she was sobbing, but she managed to continue. "What has Queen Kate done for us? Not a whole lot. Only saved the life of our daughter, Angel, at the serious risk of her own. Only filled our only child with such love and joy and grace that she effervesces. That's all." Now that she had controlled her sobs, she glared at Kate and said, "Now, do you want to try again?" "Thank you, Mary Martin, for offering us the hospitality of your home. I will never forget your kindness. Understand?" Mrs. Martin slowly shook her head, grimaced and said, as if talking to herself, "Why is it that I think I would have been a lot better off taking the dumb money? I really think it would have been cheaper in the long run." Kate just grinned, winked and asked innocently, "Are you saving for Angel's university education? She's a very smart little girl..." Then she shook her head firmly and said, "Naah, why bother... After all, she already has a fully paid scholarship..." Mary just shook her head, turned to Ken and said, "See what I mean?" Seeing the man was totally baffled she suddenly realized what had happened. Ken had no idea where he was nor who anyone was. "Mr. Smith," she said softly, "you are in the capital of Essex. This gorgeous woman we've been talking to is Katherine, Queen of Essex." Suddenly to Ken Smith, things were becoming clearer, even if they still made no sense. But recognizing that he was in the presence of his reigning queen, he dropped to one knee. At that point Sally came up with Kathy beside her. Lifting the man up from the ground, she wrapped her arms around him and melted her lips to his. Remarkably, it was just like kissing Kathy, but without the passion. From the corner of his eye he could see Kathy, still wrapped in the officer's cloak, just beaming. But who is this incredible girl? he wondered. Only then did he realize how much like Kathy this girl was. Could this be Kathy's sister, Sally, who I've heard so much about? And so it proved to be. Finally, things were sorted out and the four women — Kate, Sally, Kathy, and me — returned to the royal apartment. Once inside, I smelled an odor like an unwashed body, but before I could say a thing, Kathy said, "Could I please get washed, Your Majesty? Already I'm stinking up this magnificent home..." "Come on, girls," Kate interrupted. Obviously, she was about to shed her clothing, but she looked at Kathy and said, "I was about to strip, Kathy. Would it bother you to be in the presence of naked women?" The girl's laughter had a bitter overtone in it. Unfastening the cape, she let it drop to the floor. The girl was completely naked. "Bother me?" she replied. "How could it possibly? I haven't worn any clothing in over five years." Then she looked down at her grimy body, shook her head and added, "Perhaps there's a horse trough or a pig wallow... ?" Kate just shook her head. After stripping off our clothes we all trooped into the shower. The girl's eyes widened with wonder when water started pouring from three walls. This time, though, Kate found a shower brush which she brought into the shower with her. All four of us had a marvelous time as we took turns scrubbing the dirt from Kathy's body. While this was going on, I became aware of the fact that Kathy's breasts were filling. Only then did I remember that she had an infant and had been in what Sally referred to as her "milch-cow mode." When it was my turn, I used a soft washcloth gently to wash her beautiful tits. Finishing, I looked at her and asked if I could try a sip. Her response was to eagerly nod her head. Moving her slightly so the shower wouldn't be pouring on her breasts — and in Kate's shower, that's not nearly as easy as it might sound — I dropped to my knees. Seeing what I was doing, though, Kathy looked around, then sat down in the corner of the shower. I then reclined on the tile floor — there was plenty of room for that — and rested against her body while I moved my mouth in search of her lovely nipple. When I found it and began to suckle, I tasted the loveliest, richest milk I could imagine. Sally followed me, and then Kate got the leftovers (her term). As I was about to thank the girl, Kathy beat me to it. "Thank you all," she said. "I've been doing this for so long I have become a cow. And like a cow, I really need to be milked regularly." With a warm smile she concluded, "I feel far more comfortable now." The shower was followed by a visit to the sauna, then the cold pool, and finally the bath tub. This time Sally sat on the pool step with Kathy's head cradled on her lap while Kate and I worked on her lovely young body. Finally, Kathy murmured, "Thank you so much, Kate. (She had already been told by Kate in no uncertain terms that the mode of address in the apartment was first names!) You certainly saved me from a death sentence that would have been executed in a few years." "What do you mean by that?" Kate asked. "I guess I'm the third slave in my former position," Kathy replied. "When the women got a little... tired, should I say... ? they just... disappeared... along with their children. I'm almost certain they were all killed. And that would be two women and six or seven small children, at least a couple of whom had to be only infants." Kate paled as she heard the story, but she said nothing. But I could tell that her mind was working. The woman has the most brilliant mind in the world, enclosed in the most beautiful body. By the time Kate had the woman on the massage table, it was obvious that she had gone to heaven. After a quantity of musk oil had been worked into her skin, I was amused to see her sniffing the air. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her and she asked, "What is that marvelous scent? There is an unbelievably fragrant scent in the air. But what is it? Where did it come from?" With a lovely smile Sally answered, "That's just you, big sister. It's your natural fragrance. And is Ken ever going to be happy!" "I suppose he will," Kathy replied. "But he's going to wonder who it is he's making love to. To him my natural scent is l'eau de barnyard." Sally howled at her sister's quip, while Kate and I just giggled. When we finally concluded Kathy's ablutions, she was gorgeous. Her hair, cleaned of years of accumulated dirt and grime, was the same lovely chestnut as Sally's. To the embarrassment of everyone — except Kate — we gathered in the kitchen. Kate sat the three of us at the breakfast table with drinks and lovely hors d'oeuvres while she alone prepared the meal, summarily rejecting our earnest pleas to help. She made martinis for Sally, me, and herself (an utterly marvelous and relaxing preprandial beverage, I should add), but gave Kathy an amber liquid which the girl said tasted like ambrosia... whatever ambrosia might taste like. Kate told her that she was a vital part of the meal, and would provide the dessert. No one knew what she was talking about, but with Kate you just let things like that go. When the dinner was served, it was, Kate told us, a modified Maine shore dinner. (I wonder what a maine is? I never did find out. And I am merely reporting what she told us. Never in my life have I encountered the items she served us that night.) First, there were the strangest-looking things on the ugliest little plates I've ever seen. The little plates were sitting in beds of ice. (Can you imagine ice in May? But that's what it was.) Kate showed us how to lift the strange things from their little ugly plates with a little bitty fork. This was after having first squeezed lemon juice on them and sprinkling a strange substance called Tabasco on, too. Then the objects — Kate called them oysters — were dipped into another red sauce and eaten. Quite honestly, the looks I was seeing on Sally and Kathy's faces were the funniest I've ever seen in my whole life. (Of course, I couldn't see the looks on my own.) Remarkably, though, the oysters were really very good. This course was followed by another shellfish that Kate called clams. They were served steamed. She assured us that clams were somehow related to oysters. What I referred to earlier as ugly little plates turned out to be the shells the oysters live in. Clams also have shells, but they aren't nearly as ugly. There is quite a process to eating steamed clams, we learned. Their shells were partially opened when they were served to us, but we had to finish opening the shells, then pull the slimy things out, and peel off some gunk on the end. After dipping them in grayish water — Kate said it was clam juice — we then dipped them in a small dish of melted butter and ate them. In spite of the work one must do first, they were quite good and worth the effort. The clams gave way to the main course: very large baked stuffed lobsters. They were utterly superb, being stuffed with a crabmeat supreme. Served with all of this was a marvelous Chardonnay from a place called California. I've never heard of it, but perhaps it's some obscure nation down in the Balkans somewhere. However, Kathy was given more of the amber liquid along with spring water. Kate never mentioned what the amber liquid was, and Kathy didn't ask. When she asked for some of the Chardonnay, though, Kate said no because "it would ruin the taste." I had no idea what taste she was thinking about nor any sense of how it could be ruined by a magnificent wine like that. It was truly magnificent, by the way. Along with the lobster, there was corn on the cob that was truly remarkable (corn is a very strange-looking vegetable, by the way), as well as a mixed green salad. Dessert was a marvelous concoction called strawberry shortcake. Then Kate announced that we were going to have brandy Alexanders (whatever they might be), except for Kathy. When Kathy wondered why she was being excluded, Kate said brightly — and quite reasonably, I thought — "But darling, I really didn't think you could get one of your nipples in your mouth. And that's where they're coming from." It seemed that when Kate was suckling at Kathy's tit, tasting the incredible sweet richness of her milk, the idea had come to her. So anyway, we adjourned to the library where Kathy sat on the sofa — while making all sorts of quirky faces — and nursed each of us. And Kate was — as usual — right. We drank the same luscious milk, but this time laced with Kate's marvelous cognac. It was only then that we all learned what it was that Kathy had been drinking all evening. I suppose I should have recognized it, but there are a great many liquors that are amber in color. Following our session nursing, Kate served cheeses in the library along with coffee, more cognac — straight, this time — and cigars. Kathy had the final word on the evening, when she leaned back luxuriantly on the leather sofa, sighed deeply and said, "Kate, this evening has just about made up for five years of slavery. From the bath onward, this has been the most marvelous time I have ever spent." At that moment we heard a soft knocking on the front door. We all raced back to the bedrooms and donned white terry robes. Then while the rest of us returned to the library, Kate went to the door. When she returned to the library, she was followed by the young woman who had taken charge of Kathy's infant. She was carrying the infant in her arms. After introducing her as Connie Foster, Kate asked with a warm smile what brought her to the apartment so late at night. Connie replied that she knew that Kathy would want to see that her infant was all right. Otherwise she might not sleep very well. Very gently she gave the sleeping infant to her mother. Kathy very carefully parted the blanket to see her infant daughter. When she could see her, Kathy gasped and asked, "Where did this clothing come from? When we arrived, all the baby had was a makeshift diaper. But now she's wearing the most beautiful infant's clothing I've ever seen!" "I guess you should thank Her Majesty, then," Connie replied. "When my baby was born, she gave us a ton of infant's wear, so most of it has never been worn." Then looking concerned, she added, "There's no problem with it, is there? The baby doesn't seem to have any allergies, and she's the happiest little thing I've ever seen." "Connie, there's one thing we never discussed," Kate said, changing the subject. "How much do you want for caring for the baby for ten days or so? Do you think ten gold pieces a day would be adequate? After all, you're nursing her at your breast, and—" "—you're tired of living, too, aren't you?" Connie interrupted with her hands on her hips. "Just try to offer me a thin copper, and see if you're still alive two minutes later! I dare you." Then the girl suddenly stripped off her clothing and stood before us naked. The instant she did, we all saw a new red scar on her abdomen. "My queen did this to me," she said softly. "Of course, doing it saved my baby's life and my own, as well." Turning to Kate, it was obvious that sparks were coming from her eyes as she continued, "Your Majesty, my life — and my baby's life — may not be worth much to you, but they are worth something to me. And what am I doing, after all? I am nursing a lovely baby girl at my breast for a few days. Big stinking deal!" Turning back to the rest of us she explained how during the birth process, her baby's body hadn't turned properly in her birth canal. It was trying to come out sideways. Of course this was impossible; the best outcome would have been only the baby's death. The more probable result, though, was that both baby and mother would have died, with the mother dying in agony. "And I'm at least the sixth mother Kate has saved in the same way over the last year or so. No one knows how she knows, but our queen always does know... and she's always there." Turning to Kathy she said, "I swear I will take good care of your baby for you. I hope you don't mind my doing it?" "Of course I don't mind!" Kathy exclaimed. "But thank you so very much. And I'm sure my baby's getting better care from you than she possibly could from me." Responding to a subtle signal from Kathy, Connie sat on the sofa beside her and the two young women kissed. There was an instant flow of love between the two. They promised to get together as soon as Kathy and Ken were settled in their home. It was then that Kate announced that Ken and Kathy would be getting a new house, too, next door to Jack and Sally's. When Connie left with the baby, she was succeeded by the same officer who had come to the door the previous evening. Obviously, Kate had ordered him to take a detail and rescue Kathy, Ken and the baby. This time he was accompanied by a man who identified himself as chief of detectives of the national police. While introductions were being made, Kate disappeared and came back with a tray of refreshments for the two officers. When the military officer expressed embarrassment at being served by the queen, Kate just told him tartly that they were guests in her home. "The palace is one thing, Colonel, but once you came through that door into the apartment, you left the palace and entered my home." Kathy briefly told them about the fact that she was at least the third in a series of slaves used as milch cows, and how her two predecessors had disappeared, along with their families. The rumor among the servants was that they had all been murdered. Then she suggested that the household servants be questioned. As long as their safety could be assured, she was confident that they would cooperate. After answering a few questions for them, the two withdrew. In an instant Kate's robe was shrugged off. She told Kathy about her honeymoon, and her slavery, almost all of which was spent naked. "Now I feel constricted when I'm dressed. But I hope you don't mind?" "As I said earlier, Kate, I haven't worn any clothing for five years. How could I mind? And I do know how you feel." That night I slept with Sally, while Kate shared her bed with Kathy. The next morning I found Kathy alone in at the breakfast table sipping coffee while I could hear Kate thrashing up and down the pool that was in view from the large picture window that opened on the pool terrace. "Never in my life have I had a night like that!" the girl exclaimed. "All night long, my body was entwined with Kate's. And her lips were on mine, too. Whenever we kissed, I received a flood of love and grace. But is she human? Never have I heard of a person like her." "That's only because there is no on like her," I replied. "Kate is one of a kind — sui generis. Isn't she remarkable? And in a short time, I'll be her slave, too." Kathy looked at me in a strange way and changed the subject. ------- Chapter 26 The week passed in a blur of activity. Sally's whipped back healed at an incredible rate of speed. Coupled with the exercise we were all getting, the girl's transformation was incredible. Equally marvelous was the change in her sister, Kathy. Both girls utterly blossomed. And on Wednesday night when Jack and Ken appeared to take their fiancées out to dinner, the two young women looked spectacular, as did their men. When Ken learned from Kathy that they were to have a house next door to Jack and Sally's, and the two homes were going to be essentially identical, he just shook his head in amazement. Suddenly, from being slaves, he and Kathy could now look forward to a wonderful life together. The two girls were just so damned cute! At one point, Kathy stuck out her tongue at her sister and claimed that she and Ken had a head start in filling up their bedrooms. They were starting with two children already. "Well I'm only seventeen, smarty!" Sally retorted. "By the time I'm your age, Jack and I will have at least four!" The two girls were literally bubbling over with things to tell their men. On Thursday, Kate informed the girls that they were going to dress and meet the public. I looked at her and asked, "And what are we wearing, Your Majesty? The usual?" Then I grinned, shook my head and asked, "Where do the clothes come from? A rag bag?" Kate just grinned back and produced four more or less identical outfits virtually the same as what we wore the last time we went to town. Sally and Kathy just looked at the scraps of worn-out material, shrugged and got dressed. To my surprise, Kate had an outfit for me that not only fit, but it felt as if it had been formed to my body. As we had done the first time, the four of us set out for the town and received the same reception. History certainly repeated, complete with that little bundle of beauty and joy, Angel Martin, hurling herself at Kate. Again Kate caught the tyke in her arms and kissed her soundly. When she finally eased away and was able to focus her eyes on Kate's, I could see that the little girl was very serious. Only then did I become aware of Kenny Smith standing a short distance away looking very worried. "Angel," the little girl began, "can I marry Kenny?" "Do you need an answer right this minute?" Kate countered with her eyes wide and serious — although it was easy to see they were dancing with delight. "I think so," Angel replied. Then she blushed and confessed, "I spent last night sleeping in Kenny's arms. Doesn't that mean that we have to get married?" "What does Kenny say?" Kate asked. "He wants to marry me right now," the girl replied with great seriousness, "but I told him I couldn't give him an answer until I asked you first." The little girl paused and then continued nervously, "What should I tell him, Angel?" "Do you want to marry him, darling?" "Of course I do," Angel replied. Then she sighed and added, "It was just so incredibly neat! We were in bed together, and Kenny just held me tightly all night long. I felt so safe... And he kept kissing me, too." Pausing, the little girl looked thoughtful and added, "When he kisses me it's like nothing I've ever experienced before." With her eyes wide and guileless she said, "It was even better than when I kiss you, Angel. Different, but better." After another pause she concluded, "I guess it's just that Kenny is the guy I was made for. Does that seem strange to you?" "No, my darling, it doesn't seem strange to me at all." With the warmest smile Kate continued, "You see, Angel, I was created to serve the king — my husband, Bill. I knew it the first instant I laid eyes on him. And it's just been getting steadily better." Slowly shaking her head she repeated, "No, my darling Angel, it doesn't seem strange to me at all." With that the little girl just beamed and it was obvious she wanted to get down. As soon as Kate carefully set her down, Angel ran to Kenny and exclaimed, "Angel says I can marry you, Kenny." With her eyes wide she added, "Will you give me a kiss now?" The little boy did. Taking Angel in his arms, he kissed her soundly. Although I was prepared to be amused, there was nothing at all amusing about it. There was an incredible flow of the purest love coupled with youthful passion. We could all feel the electricity and hear the bells ring when the two small children kissed. At this point Kathy said, "Kenny, I need help." "What's wrong, Slave—" The little boy interrupted himself and then asked, "Mommy, do I still have to call you Slave or Slave Kathy? Can't I ever call you 'Mommy'? That's what Angel calls her mother." Poor Kathy broke down in tears. "My darling son, you can always call me Mommy from now on. Because of my sister — your Aunt Sally — and Queen Kate, I'm no longer a slave and won't be one ever again." Then she displayed the cutest little grin as she added, "But Kenny, there's still a holdover from my days as a slave. I'm so used to being a cow, I really need to be milked. Could I interest you and Angel here in some warm milk?" The little boy's eyes lighted up as if he had just seen Santa Claus. (Later we learned that never in his entire life had he nursed at Kathy's tit.) We all trooped over to the Martin house where Mary Martin greeted us warmly. What followed was the loveliest little scene I've ever seen. Kathy sat in the middle of a sofa and stripped off the rags Kate had given her that passed for a top. Then with Kenny on her left and Angel on her right, she proceeded to nurse both children. The rest of us left shortly afterward. Mary had obtained a pillow that she put behind Kathy's head. Within moments, all three — Kathy and the two small children — were asleep. The two kids each still had one of Kathy's nipples in their mouths and would periodically suck more of Kathy's rich warm milk, even though they were both asleep, too. At that point, Kate, Sally and I adjourned to the Golden Bear. With Kate leading the way, we entered and were immediately startled by the same sergeant who had been in command of the detail the previous week. "Your Majesty," he said, addressing Kate, "something is very wrong here." "What's the trouble, Sergeant?" she asked. "Well, Your Majesty, you said you wanted things to be exactly the way they were. Since today is Thursday, the day when one of the girls is available out back to anyone who wants to whip them..." His voice just tailed off, and he stopped, apparently too embarrassed to continue. "Yes, that's true," Kate said, agreeing with his complete statements. "So... ?" "Maybe you'd better come and see for yourself," he replied. With the sergeant leading the way we went through the inn and into the courtyard in the rear. There the whipping frame that had been described to me was located. Because of the sergeant's size and bulk, we couldn't see beyond him. Once out in the yard, the sergeant just stepped aside so we could see what was going on. He didn't utter a word. Hortense was secured in the frame upside down. She was spreadeagled with her back to us. It was a mass of bleeding lacerations. Holding a whip was a heavy-set man with the look of a seaman. While we watched, he drew back the whip and then cracked it right in her crotch. Although we couldn't see it, it had to have cut the length of her slit. When the whip struck, Hortense's whole body shuddered; an instant later we could see her whole lower body in convulsion and could see a spurt of liquid — her cum — shooting upward. Moments later, when her convulsing stopped we could hear Hortense's hoarse voice saying, "Yes! That was perfect. Can you do it again, in exactly the same place? It's so wonderful. I can feel the blood flowing from my cunt down to my tits!" Turning to us the sergeant whispered, "She's... she's a mas... maso... One of those people who likes pain! She loves it! She revels in it!" As we turned to leave, although I had only seen Hortense's back, it was apparent she had already lost a great deal of weight. Returning to the inn, the sergeant asked, "What should I do, Your Majesty?" Kate slowly shook her head and finally said, "Do nothing, Sergeant. Just continue to carry out your orders. If Hortense likes it, she likes it. How is Edmund making out?" The sergeant grinned in relief. "He's shaping up, too, Your Majesty," he replied with the relief audible in his voice. "Both Martha and Susan agree that the food is better than it was when Ellie was cooking here. The present cook isn't nearly as good as she is, of course, but the quality of the food he's using is far better than Edmund and Hortense ever let Ellie have." Then with a big grin he concluded, "And guess what? This last week was the best week the inn has ever had." Turning to Sally he said, "And Miss Schmidt, you should be happy to hear that! I guess you and your sister own 60 percent of the inn now, and Martha and Susan have 20 percent each. You ought to be minting money!" "Kate!" Sally demanded, "what are you doing to us?" "Well, you worked here for no money, and your sister was just released from slavery. Ken hasn't had a chance to look for work, so I thought a little income might help." Then Kate glared at Sally with green sparks shooting from her eyes — along with a glint of amusement — and added, "Now what's your damned problem?" Sally didn't reply. Instead she took Kate in her arms and melted her lips to hers. Kate just hugged the girl tightly. Just then we heard the sounds of a hard-ridden horse being reined in to a sudden stop in front of the inn. A moment later a messenger from the palace breathlessly reported to Kate that the King and Princess Julia had been sighted. They would arrive at the palace in less than three hours. Instantly Kate abandoned any plans she might have had for the afternoon. Sally left us at the Martin's to rejoin Kathy, while Kate and I ran back to the castle. (And I mean ran! And it's all uphill, too! When I tried to stop and rest, Kate just said it was good training for my future. Thanks again, Kate!) When we returned to the palace and the apartment, Kate looked at me with a strange look on her face, one I didn't recognize. Then she said, "Mattie, could you do me a big favor?" Suddenly I realized what had happened. Kate wanted my assistance for something, but she's so used to giving herself to others it never occurred to her that others might want to do something for her sometime. And it nearly killed her to ask. "Of course, Kate," I replied. "Anything at all. What would you like?" "Mattie, could... would..." she stammered. "The answer is still yes, Kate!" I interjected. "But yes, what? For God's sake, just spit it out!" "Help me get ready to welcome my master? Please?" Instantly we shed our rags and ran into the shower. There I scrubbed her body thoroughly, then we steamed in the sauna, and finally soaked in the tub with more than an inch of musk oil floating on the water. After that I gave her a massage. I have to tell you that the massage was a revelation to me. From the first instant I saw her, I knew she was female perfection, but the true extent of her perfection wasn't revealed until I gave her that massage. There was nothing but perfectly-toned muscles under the smoothest skin you can imagine. You've heard the expression, skin like satin? Well let me tell you, nowhere in the world is there satin nearly so fine as Kate's skin. When I was finishing the massage, Kate was on her back. While she was lying there with me working on her body, her slender fingers were moving all over her pussy. At first I thought she was masturbating, but then I realized it was not that at all. Then she looked at me with her eyes wide, obviously trying to say something. "The answer is yes again, Kate," I said. "But what's the question?" To my surprise, Kate blushed. Even under her deep tan I could see the blood rise from her loins, go up through her tits to her face. Finally she said with her voice cracking — obviously, whatever it was, it was deeply troubling to her — "Wha... what's the most sensitive part of your body? To irritation, I mean." I just shook my head. I didn't really understand her question. "Are your tits very sensitive?" she asked. "I guess so," I replied. "But why?" "Could you run your tits over my pussy?" she said. Kate spoke so fast, it came out as almost a single long word. Again she blushed like a ripe tomato. Leaning over her pussy, I took my right tit in my hands and carefully ran it over her slit. When I did, she spread her legs as wide as she could, so taking the hint, I moved them down between her thighs. By this time my own sexual excitement was such that my nipples were now as hard as pebbles. Deciding to have some fun, I ran a nipple up her slit and used it to tease her clit. It took only an instant for her pelvis to buck as an orgasm hit her. Raising my body a bit, I bent over and licked the succulent cum from her pussy. By now, I thought I knew what she was doing. "Your thighs and pussy are as smooth as a baby's bottom, Kate," I said. "That's what you were concerned about, isn't it? You were afraid you would scratch Bill?" She blushed even redder at that, but managed to nod her head. "Moreover, darling Kate, you're cum is as sweet as sugar. Now are you happy?" At that she just grinned and rapidly nodded her head up and down. Returning to the bedroom, I found fresh-cut summer flowers lying on the table. Kate worked on her hair until it glistened with its natural oils, then carefully selected flowers to place in her hair. Finally, she took some tiny blossoms and carefully threaded their stems in her small but dense pubic patch above her slit. We were just in time. The phone rang (What is a phone, anyway?) and Kate answered it. She learned that Bill and Julia were only moments away from the palace. I had been wondering how Kate was going to be able to dress with the flowers in her pubic patch. Stupid me! At this point, Kate was so excited, I'm sure she clean forgot I was even there. She ran — totally naked, of course — to the entrance hall where she knelt facing the door. Her thighs were spread as wide as possible, and her hands were clasped behind her neck. Her back was absolutely straight as she just knelt there, waiting. I took a seat in a chair out of the way and just watched and waited. It was utterly amazing. The minutes ticked away, but Kate didn't move a muscle. She might as well have been a statue. I did notice, though, that her eyes were focused on the floor a few feet in front of her, not on the door. Finally, the door burst open and Bill appeared. It was really my first look at him at close range, and he is gorgeous. Coming into the apartment, he was looking around and almost tripped over Kate's body. She still hadn't moved a muscle. When he saw her he stopped abruptly and said fervently, "Kate! My darling!" "Permission to speak, Master?" Kate whispered, with her eyes still on the floor. "Kate Essex, what is this shit?" Bill demanded. There was no response from Kate. Indeed, she still hadn't moved a muscle. "All right, damn it!" Bill almost screamed in exasperation. "You have my permission to speak." "Thank you, darling master!" Kate said softly. "Which of my openings would my beloved master care to explore first?" "Enough of this, slave!" Bill exclaimed. "Off your ass, on your feet, and get into that bed where you belong! And your legs had better be spread... wide!" In an instant Kate was on her feet scampering toward the bedroom. Bill just shook his head, followed her in, and with a grin in my direction closed the bedroom door. I had been so engrossed in the byplay between Kate and Bill, I hadn't noticed Julia. For that matter, until that instant I had forgotten that I, too, was naked. I had never dressed after the bath. As a result, when a heard a voice beside me, I almost jumped out of my skin. "Good afternoon, Your Majesty," I heard. It was the most beautiful, musical-sounding voice I had ever heard. Looking down, I found myself drowning in the most beautiful deep blue eyes I had ever seen. "I am Julia, Majesty," she continued softly. Finally remembering my manners, I extended my hand and was both shocked and amazed to see the girl gently kiss my fingertips. She was in the most perfect court curtsy I had ever seen. Finally gathering my wits about me, I jumped from the chair and extended both hands to the girl. Taking my hands, she very gracefully rose to her feet. It was an incredibly fluid motion, almost as if she didn't even have joints. I found that I couldn't resist. I drew this lovely girl into my arms. Because of my height, I'm used to looking down at most people and all women. Indeed I was taller than Julia, but not by a great deal. I looked into her eyes... and felt I was drowning in them. As I said a moment ago, they are the most brilliant blue I've ever seen, but as I looked into them, that was the least of it. There was an incredible depth to them, thus the drowning metaphor. But there was so much more. There was joy, openness... and grace. This girl was as pure as the new driven snow. With my arms around her waist, the girl just cocked her head. That was all the invitation I needed. When our lips met, I thanked God that I had been kissing Kate for the last few weeks. Had I not, I would have been on the floor, unconscious. Her kiss had the same love, grace, and nearly the power of Kate's. "Thank you," I finally managed to mumble after clearing my head. "That was an utterly luscious kiss from an incredibly beautiful young woman." At that point I became aware of sounds of lovemaking coming from the bedroom, through the heavy solid-oak door. With a grin and a lovely giggle, Julia took my hand saying, "Come on! Let's take a look." Earlier in this narrative of mine I said there would be more about Kate's lovemaking with Bill later. Well, this is "later." When we opened the door — Julia felt no need to be quiet — I saw Kate on her back with Bill between her widespread legs. Her ankles were loosely crossed behind his neck and her pelvis was raised well off the bed. I didn't believe the size of the cock Bill had, the cock that Kate was effortlessly absorbing to its full length. While he was pistoning in and out, her pelvis — indeed, most of her body — was in convulsion. At the same time she was screaming, "Fuck-me-fuck-me-fuck-me..." The look on her face was one of rapture. After a few more minutes, Julia just shook her head, grinned, and led me back to the living room. Without even asking, she disappeared for a few moments and returned with a martini on the rocks for me and a bottle of Coke for herself. (Yes, I know it won't be invented for several hundred more years, but that's never slowed down Bill or Kate before, and it didn't this time, either.) Along with the drinks she had a platter of lovely canapés. When I raised my eyebrow, she merely said that she thought she should offer something to eat with the drinks. (I didn't tell her that Kate had me on a diet, either!) I was sitting on the sofa, and Julia sat on a flanking side chair. After a few minutes of talk she paused. Kate's orgasmic sounds kept interrupting our conversation. Couldn't a woman do something to spice up her orgasms a bit? I mean... After all, you see a woman's body in spasm for a minute or two, and that's about it. Beyond that it's just a redundancy: Same old, same old... Oh, well... Finally, after the nth interruption, Julia suggested we take a walk down to the village. Since it was close to the summer solstice, it was still broad daylight and would remain light for quite some time. Julia had been wearing a riding habit. But ignoring her parents' lovemaking, she waltzed into the bedroom and emerged a few moments later wearing the same things her mother had worn earlier: Levi's cut-offs and a ripped-to-shreds shirt. (You know what? Those folks at Levi-Strauss are really going to have a winner in few hundred years when they start making them.) And when I say "ripped to shreds," I mean it. Her left nipple kept protruding from a hole on the left side, and her entire right breast kept appearing in a rip on the left. The girl's body was youthful perfection! Moreover, she had an utterly perfect all-over golden tan that rivaled her mother's in its perfection. In her hand were a couple of rags which turned out to be another set of clothes for me to wear. When I asked her about underwear, she just shrugged and asked, "What for?" I could tell it was going to be a repeat of what had happened earlier in the day. Although the outfit (?) I was wearing was new to me, if anything the rags were even older than those I had worn earlier. I looked at the shorts skeptically. Even if I sucked in my belly and didn't breathe for a few hours, there was no way I could get into anything so small. When I said as much to Julia, she grinned and asked, "Are you sure?" Indeed, I was sure and proceeded to show her. Or that's what I intended to do, anyway. Instead, the waistband buttoned easily. As I just stood there with my mouth agape, Julia just said, "Are you still sure?" Then she added, "You're on your way to becoming an outrageous beauty!" "How will the Coat of Arms of the House of Essex look branded into both my flanks?" I asked. "You'll do, Mattie," was her only response. I quickly learned that the shirt I was wearing had at least as many holes as Julia's. When I mentioned this to her, all she said was, "You'll be naked for months. What difference does it make? You might as well get the people of Essex used to seeing your body." Then she added, "You have such a gorgeous tan, too." By this time we were walking down the hill to the town. Julia stopped, and to my shock, took out one of my tits and looked at its now-engorged nipple. 'What adorable little nipples!" she cooed. "What will they be like after they're pierced, I wonder?" "You've seen Leila's," I replied. "I would imagine they would be similar." Then I shivered in anticipation, thinking of a leather punch driving holes through my flesh. As we approached the town, I became aware of the answer to a question that had been on my mind. Bill and Kate had been dramatically reducing the size of Essex's armed forces, but what were all the young men doing? I quickly learned. In the first place, the town seemed to be almost twice as large as I had remembered (we hadn't had a chance to look around much when we were in town earlier). Moreover, everything in sight looked clean and new, but at the same time there was construction underway wherever one looked. When I asked Julia about trenches crisscrossing the town, she told me that they were for utility lines. "Utility lines?" I asked. "Sure. You know... electric power, gas, water, sewers... That sort of stuff." Electric power? Gas? What was she talking about? "Oh! And Dad has the neatest thing coming, too! It's from GE... (What's a GE, do you suppose?) And it's a small nuclear reactor. We're changing out from gas-turbine generators to nuclear. It will save money and provide much more power, too." Gas turbines? Generators? I was beginning to wonder what language Julia was speaking. But pervading everything were Help Wanted signs. And apparently they were serious, too. It was late in the spring and late in the day. We stopped and watched some roofers putting a roof on a new house. The men nailing the shingles were all young — fresh out of service, perhaps? — but then I realized that the workers scrambling up and down the ladders bringing them shingles were young women! We stopped to watch for a few minutes. At that point, the foreman blew his whistle and everyone began to scramble down the ladders. Obviously, it had been very hot work; all of them were soaked with sweat. "Let's see what happens now," Julia suggested. "I think it's going to be fun! I recognize most of those girls." We followed the young people — there were six of them — to a lovely little pond on the edge of town that even had a small waterfall. The fall of water wasn't even ten feet, but the glen was lovely. The young people lost no time stripping off their sweat-soaked clothing and jumping in the water. "Mmm... ! The girls have really been working at it," Julia commented. "I'm really so proud of them. Just look!" The girls were beautiful; their bodies were simply perfect. They came in assorted sizes and colors, but all were perfectly conditioned. The kids splashed and took showers under the falls while the boys fondled the girls' bodies. This provoked rebukes from the young women, but I noted that they never made a move to cause the boy fondling them to stop or even to change the site of his caresses. Tits, asses and pussies were by far the most popular, but with frequent clinches for necking. After about thirty minutes of playing in the water, the six just gathered their clothing and started walking barefoot, hand in hand, back to town. It was awfully cute, really. There they were, walking along as couples with a hand around the other's waist and with their clothing slung over their outside shoulders. They hadn't even bothered to dry themselves off. With her eyes dancing, Julia commented, "There are going to be more than a few weddings around here pretty soon." ------- Chapter 27 As we wandered back, we again came upon the Sign of the Golden Bear. Julia suggested we stop in for a snack, and we did. Only then did I remember it was Thursday, the day that Hortense made herself available for whipping as I had seen earlier. As we entered, Hortense was the first person we saw. Good heavens, what a change! Where formerly she had been described to me as being like Leila Jones — about as wide as she was tall — now she was slender with a beautiful body. Or at least it was beautiful if you didn't mind the whip cuts all over it. "Princess Julia! Welcome!" the woman exclaimed. Then she showed us to a table in the corner. The sergeant of the Queen's Own had intimated that Hortense was truly a masochist, and it was confirmed for us right then. When I had seen her earlier, I had only seen her back since she had been in the whipping frame. "Look at my tits, Princess!" she exclaimed as we took our seats. "Aren't they nice and firm? And I hope you notice how engorged my nipples are, too." She paused and added, "Since it's Thursday, cropping is not only free to patrons here in the bar, but it's expected. You'll see there is at least one riding crop on each table." And indeed there were. Knowing what was about to happen to me, I could taste bile in the back of my throat as she spoke. (Oh, dear! I think I forgot to mention something. Initially, my visit was only supposed to be for 30 days; I would return later for my slavery. But since the dates were right — I would be enslaved for the period June through August — and since travel in Europe at the time could most honestly be called tedious, I would not be returning home. My slavery would begin in just a few weeks, but I would be remaining in Essex until then.) "But there's a special today, too," Hortense continued. "If you can hit both my nipples dead center with only two strokes of the crop, you get 15 minutes with me in the whipping frame absolutely free! Isn't that neat?" she enthused. Julia took her up on her offer and, of course, struck dead center on each nipple. Then she reached out and felt the older woman's breasts. "They're really so firm and lovely!" she complimented her. But then to the woman's great and obvious disappointment, took a pass on the whipping frame. She suggested that another patron might like to take her place. (I don't believe I'm writing this!) Julia's suggestion seemed to mollify Hortense who looked around the room, picked out the biggest, burliest man present, and romped over to tell him what he had just won. After getting our drinks — lemonade for both of us — she happily headed for the courtyard in the rear, closely followed by her selected torturer. (The lemonade was very good, but what are lemons? At least I assume that's what it's made from. Hmm... Another Essex mystery.) Finally, with peace restored, there was an opportunity to look around. I noticed Martha Cooper and Susan Hodges, the two young women who had been enslaved at the Inn along with Kate, and who now owned 40 percent of the tavern. With them was another woman whose back was toward us. She was wearing a long cloak, and I noticed that she was holding it open. Then I saw Susan shake her head, but it was clear that the woman was pleading with her. Reconsideration? The woman's head sank dejectedly, and I could see her closing the cloak about her as she turned. My eyes almost popped out of my skull! It was Jean Baker, the woman — then just a girl — who had been my tutor. She was the one who had been repeatedly raped and beaten. As she turned, I involuntarily called out, "Jean Baker!" The woman's head came up and she saw me. Her eyes widened while her shoulders slumped as she moved toward our table. "No!" her companion screamed. "You can't, Mother! You can't!" Only then did I notice her companion, a very tall young woman — about Julia's height — who appeared to be about 18. Thinking about it, the timing was just about perfect. Apparently her repeated raping in our torture chamber had resulted in a pregnancy, and this girl was the product. Reaching our table, Jean dropped to her knees and shrugged off her cloak. I almost vomited on the spot. The woman's body had been cut to ribbons by whip strokes. Moreover, it was apparent that the process had been continuous, going on for years. Again I could taste the bile in the back of my throat. I motioned for her to cover herself again; I was unable to speak. Thank God, she did. "Leave my mother alone!" the girl with her cried. "For the love of God, how much longer must she be punished?" "It ends instantly!" I finally managed to say. "Please join us, if you would." Then I added, "I'm Matilda of Slobovia... Slobovia's chief female slob!" I added wryly. Almost in spite of herself, the girl displayed the tiniest smile. "And as for you, Jean Baker, off your knees and sit on this seat. At once!" I commanded. For a moment, I had forgotten that I was no longer in Slobovia, and in no position to give orders to anyone here in Essex. Moreover, I was in the company of the Crown Princess of Essex and Heir Presumptive to its throne. (Cool move, Mattie! You really did it this time.) I should have known better. For weeks I had been hearing how Kate and Julia were two angels sent to earth to care for the people of Essex. And Julia didn't disappoint. She slid out from the booth, helped Jean in beside me, then the girl and finally she slid in on the outside. The two women were now trapped between us. Reaching out my hand around Jean I said, "I'm Matilda of Slobovia, I regret to say. But who are you? You're simply gorgeous!" "I'm Charlie Baker," the girl replied. Then with a moue of disgust she added, "It's really Charlene, but don't you dare call me that!" "Charlie!" her mother said peremptorily. "Do you realize you're speaking to royalty? Never in my life... !" The girl blushed and murmured an apology. But then flames appeared in her eyes and she continued, "But you've never let up, have you? It was in Bosnia... Now we're in Essex, but it still continues..." "What continues?" I asked. "The men chasing us," she replied softly. "And every month it's the same thing. No matter where we might be, they find us and give Mother her monthly beating..." Her voice ran down and she began to softly cry. I desperately wanted to comfort the poor girl, but was separated from her by Jean. But no matter. She was sitting beside Julia who took the girl into her arms and just held her tightly. When her sobbing ended, Julia raised her head and kissed her. It was slow, soft and lingering. I could even see Julia's tongue probing the girl's mouth and could see Charlene's eyes widen as she realized what was happening. But then something happened that did surprise me: her tongue began probing Julia's mouth, and it was Julia's turn to look surprised. Then they just settled down. The two girls hugged each other tightly while their lips remained merged. Finally, slowly, they eased apart. "Hi, Charlie," Julia said very softly. "I'm Julia." At that Jean's eyes widened. "Are... are... you... ?" "Crown Princess Julia of Essex? Heir Presumptive to the throne? The answer is yes to both questions," I said softly. "But you can't be!" Charlie protested. "Why can I not be?" Julia asked quietly. "Because..." she began and then stopped. Then she slowly shook her head and murmured, as if to herself, "They're so right..." "Who's right, and who are 'they'?" Julia asked. "The people of Essex, silly!" Charlie replied. "All the people of Essex!" "What's that mean?" Julia persisted. "Mommy and I have only been here for a few days, but all we hear on the street is the utter perfection that are Queen Kate and Princess Julia." Then she paused, her brow wrinkled and she asked, "But shouldn't it be Queen Katherine?" At that comment, Julia began to giggle. Soon her giggling got out of control and she ended up with her head lying on the table. Finally she recovered and said, "That, dear Charlie, is a family joke." She then explained how she had known Kate and Bill from literally the first instant they had laid eyes on each other. Then she continued, "At the outset, Dad called Mom 'Kate'. But she insisted her name was Katherine. But then, over time, it switched; Dad started calling her Katherine, but she had switched to Kate." Then she laughed and continued, "Now Mom insists that she always wanted to be known as Kate; it was only Dad who insisted on Katherine. It was the exact opposite, but no one has the nerve to tell her that." All this time, something had been bothering me, but I had been unable to bring it into focus. But suddenly things popped into place. "Were the agents of the Kingdom of Bosnia the only ones hounding you?" I asked. Jean slowly shook her head. "No, they weren't. There were two other men who've been trailing us for years. But unlike the Bosnian agents who change from time to time, these two are always the same ones. Charlie and I have gotten to be pretty good at spotting them and avoiding them." "That's really too bad," I commented, without further elaboration. My comment took Jean aback. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded. "King Donald of Cumberland has been chasing you two for years. Although it was only today I realized it was two of you and not just you, Jean." I paused and said thoughtfully (I really can do that... sometimes!), "He would have ended the beatings instantly." Then I really dropped a bomb. "Jean, he wants to marry you in the worst way, and now I know why." "I don't know what you're talking about!" Jean exclaimed, "So why don't you enlighten us?" "It was Donald of Cumberland who got you pregnant," I said softly. "It all comes back. He was only about 19 at the time, and visiting us at the court of Bosnia..." I paused and looked into her lovely hazel eyes, "How old were you then? About 17, weren't you?" Jean just nodded while Charlie looked puzzled and Julia looked very interested. "Julia, dear," I began, "do you have one of those cell-phone thingies with you?" Of course she did. "Do you want to see if you can reach Donald of Cumberland on it?" I asked. "After all, not all of Europe is dead air; you ought to be able to connect with someone, sometime..." That got me the tip of Julia's lovely pink tongue sticking out at me, but she punched in the number. Hallelujah! It actually worked that time. After again sticking her tongue out — much more forcefully this time — she passed me the instrument and I was speaking with Donald of Cumberland. Quickly, I filled him in on finding Jean Baker and his daughter, Charlie. I told him they were with me in Essex. "Oh, shit!" was his heartfelt reply. "What's that mean?" I asked. "That means that there are late-spring floods, is what that means. It means that the roads and rivers between here and Essex are mostly flooded out. A trip that should ordinarily take less than a week will now take three." The timing was interesting. I was due to begin my slavery in four weeks. I looked at Julia with a question in my eyes. Julia just rolled her eyes. "Mattie," she asked blandly, "what are you using for brains?" Then her voice changed dramatically and she stated, "You, Matilda of Slobovia, are an honored guest of the House of Essex. That being the case, anything — and I do mean anything — of ours is yours. So, if you were thinking of entertaining the Bakers as your guests and ours, it should go without saying that you're more than welcome to do so." Then she grinned and added, "Besides... Charlie and I really need to get better acquainted... I've tasted her lips, but there's still her whole delicious body to explore..." To Donald I said, "As soon as you can get here. They will be with me at the castle as guests of the House of Essex. The invitation was just extended by Crown Princess Julia." "Is she as lovely and loving as everyone says?" he asked. "At the very least!" I replied. "And, by the way, your daughter, Charlie, is Julia's personal guest." "I'm on my way!" he said, ending the conversation. Looking at Julia I asked, "Dare we?" "Dare we what?" she replied, puzzled. "Dare we try to complete another call? Make it two-for-two?" "To where?" she asked softly. "To the castle," I replied. "Where else? I was thinking of asking them to send a carriage." Julia tried to glare at me but failed; her giggles betrayed her. Instead she just held out her hand. I gave her the cell phone and she made the call. Two for two! As we returned to the castle, I began to wonder. To this point, I had been sleeping with Kate while Julia and Bill were away. But now that they had returned, what was I to do? One thing I did know was that Julia didn't even have a room of her own; she shared the room and bed with Kate and Bill. So I asked her. Her initial response was to giggle. When she controlled herself she said, "There's really a lot more to the royal apartment than you've probably seen. The fact is I really do have a room of my own. In fact, it's a suite of rooms, and there are at least three more suites like it." Then she grinned and added, "Don't worry, Mattie. You won't have to sleep on the cold floor... yet." Thanks for the reminder, kid! As soon as we entered the apartment, I saw Jean's jaw drop. There were Bill and Kate, both naked, in the kitchen. Bill was sitting at the table while Kate was beginning preparations for dinner. "We have some company for dinner tonight, Mom," Julia announced. Then she introduced the Baker women. "Mother, may I present Jean Baker and her daughter, Charlene?" Julia said with a wink and a protruding tongue tip in Charlie's direction. "Jean, this is my mother, Kate, Queen of Essex, and my father, King William." The two women dropped to their knees... and Kate laughed. Poor Jean found her face only inches away from Kate's bare vulva that was leaking their mixed fluids in a steady stream. Kate couldn't have been less concerned about the leakage either, but she was concerned about embarrassing her guests. Extending her hands, she helped Jean to her feet and then gently removed the cloak she was wearing. As a matter of fact, that was all she was wearing. As the cloak sank to the floor, I was sickened by what I saw. The woman's body was a mass of scar tissue and open wounds. "What happened?" Kate asked softly. I started to explain the background, but broke down in the middle. Then to my utter amazement, Jean sat across my lap to comfort me while Charlie continued the story. We learned that Jean had supported the two of them for years as a prostitute. Moreover, because she was so thin, the only tricks she could turn were with those who wanted to torture and degrade the woman, including having sex with animals of all types and sizes. In other words, tricks no other prostitute would consider. With tears streaming from her eyes Charlie concluded, "I've been after Mom for years to let me work the streets, but she wouldn't hear of it. She said I was too good and too pure for that. But it was all right for her to allow herself to be constantly beaten and tortured so we could have food to eat." The girl laughed bitterly and added, "I was going to say 'put food on the table', but we never have had a table. Mostly, we've been living on the streets and sleeping in stables with the horses." The two Baker women were both filthy and we all knew it. Nevertheless, it was clear that Jean was near starvation, and Charlie wasn't much better. Although she was still dressed — if one can call wearing rags roughly in the shape of a dress being dressed — there were enough rips and holes to be able clearly to see her individual ribs. Her mother's condition was far worse. So regardless of their condition, we proceeded to eat. That dinner was utterly incredible! First of all, Kate was nude and remained that way. Then, when Julia shed the rags she was wearing, I did, too. This left Charlie as the only one "dressed". When she made a motion to remove the rags serving as a dress, her mother just raised an eyebrow and the girl's arms came down... quickly. Jean tried to help but was ordered by Kate to remain in her seat. Thus we had the Bakers served by a reigning queen and a crown princess. It was truly funny to watch. Poor Charlie! The girl spent the whole dinner in a state of awe. She was seeing — and eating — dishes she never even knew existed. Moreover, there was enough silverware on the table to serve all the occupants of a good-sized tavern. But she just kept glancing at her mother and at Julia so she would know which utensil to use. The dinner was utterly magnificent! Kate began by pouring a very fine white wine — a lovely Chablis, I think — and then served a seafood cocktail. That was the first dish she served containing ingredients the Bakers had never encountered in their lives before. Since some of them came from the United States — I've been meaning to find out just where these united states are located; I think they're in the Balkans somewhere, but I'm really not sure — so they could never have encountered them before. It was followed by a clear soup — petite marmite — and then by a filet of beef Wellington. (I thought it a bit odd that a dish would be named for a general who wouldn't be born for a few hundred more years, but what the hell... ) That was served with an utterly marvelous Burgundy. While I enjoyed the dinner immensely — while thinking of spending most of the next several months eating oats — it was nothing compared to the reaction of Jean Baker. At several points in the meal, she just sat back and savored the food in her mouth. Following crèpes Suzette and coffee, Jean just leaned back in her chair. "Your majesty," she began. "The name is Kate! We're in our apartment, Jean Baker, and we leave the titles at the door. Am I making myself clear?" Kate asked sharply with an eyebrow raised. Jean swallowed hard and said, "Yes, Maj... Kate! You certainly are." Then she continued, "This has been the finest dinner — and the finest day — of my entire life." Then while glaring at Charlie she added, "And, Kate, it is entirely due to my savior and my friend, Matilda of Slobovia." "Jean," I responded, "thank you for your kind words. Unfortunately, they are not deserved. Due solely to me, you've been living for more than half your life as a hunted animal. How you can bear to be in the same town with me — never mind the same room — is utterly beyond me!" I shook my head and added, "All it really does, though, is to confirm the existence of a merciful God. I should have been destroyed at birth, but I've been given a second chance." I paused, took a breath, and then continued, "Your daughter, Charlie, has it right. She looks upon me as she would upon something a dog left on the sidewalk. And with good reason, too." Then with my eyes wide and locked on hers I said, "But if you feel you have to call me something, other than a profanity or obscenity, could you please call me Mattie? I really do greatly prefer it." While I was speaking, Jean had been just looking at me passively. Now she said, "Are you quite finished?" When I nodded, she continued, "What do you think of Charlie?" "I think she's one of the loveliest girls I've ever met," I replied honestly. "She is certainly a tribute to you, her mother." "I happen to agree with that," Jean continued, "and I have far more knowledge of her than you do." Then she smiled warmly and said, "So I thank you, Mattie, with all my heart for what you have done for me." I was utterly stunned by her words. "What are you saying?" I finally managed to blurt. "Where was Charlie conceived?" Jean asked blandly. I could only shake my head. "In the torture chamber in the palace of Bosnia, Mattie. It was during either the second or third cycle of rape following my whipping that I conceived. I felt Donald's huge cock ripping me open and spewing his cum into my uterus; I knew I was with child." At that she took Charlie's hand and said, "Never has a child had such a memorable conception!" I almost vomited up my dinner at that one! "Through you, Mattie, I met Donald of Cumberland, the love of my life, and conceived my darling daughter. It was all because of you!" ------- Chapter 28 Following the dinner, we took the Baker women into the master bathroom. (I still hadn't seen the room (suite?) Julia said they had for me.) Julia concentrated on scrubbing Charlie — and I mean scrubbing! I thought she was going to take off the poor girl's skin — while Kate and I worked on Jean. She was even dirtier than her daughter, but was covered with still-bleeding whip cuts. Remarkably, our working on her still-bleeding body didn't bother her a bit. In fact, both Kate and I were shocked when she ordered us to scrub her body harder. "You'll never get me even passably clean this way," she said. "But your body... !" Kate protested. "Being cut and bleeding has been my normal condition for more than fifteen years!" Jean retorted. "Besides... It's so much better than last week..." "Last week... ?" Kate prompted. "I was ordered to rub salt into all my wounds," Jean said softly, "while thanking the guys for allowing me to do it, too." I saw even Kate swallow hard at that one. Like me, she seemed to be having a problem keeping her dinner down. But we did increase our efforts. Then I made a terrible mistake. I mentioned the sauna. "What's a sauna?" Jean asked. I tried to duck the question, but I'm not nearly mentally quick enough to pull that one off. After I had haltingly tried to explain what it was, again we were amazed. "Goody!" Jean exclaimed. "That sounds so incredibly neat! Can we do it?" "But the scraping... !" Kate protested. "Will get more of the dirt out," Jean finished. So we did. As we went out to the little sauna shed, I found myself beside Charlie and received a shock. With her close beside me I realized that she was almost as tall as I was; she was at least five feet nine. Then I realized that the difference was my bulk. She was very slender while I... Forget about me. The chief slob of Slobovia, remember? That says it all. Later I was truly astounded to learn that she weighed over 150 pounds. I didn't think it was possible until Julia — who had weighed Charlie on the scale — pointed out that Charlie was all muscle and muscle is much heavier per unit of volume than fat. Julia went to work on Charlie's body with a vengeance, while Kate and I still tried to go easy. But that was not what Jean had in mind at all. With both of us scraping, she went through a series of bodily contortions to give us access to every square inch of her body. Was that all? Hah! She had us pull out every single hair in her pubic area... and insisted that Julia do Charlie the same way. I have to confess that Jean took it far better than Charlie did. Not only did Jean not make a sound, she didn't even grimace. Charlie, on the other hand, was a nonstop source of squeals, squeaks and cries. I think we heard from her as every individual hair was removed! When we finished, Kate did to Jean what earlier I had done to her. She used her tit to go over every inch of Jean's groin searching for the least little hair. Kate's nipples are naturally taut at all times anyway but, because of the contact with Jean's vagina, they became even more so. Then she again copied my actions from earlier in the day: she used her engorged nipple gently to tease Jean's clit. This did evoke a reaction. Jean's eyes widened and she murmured, "What are you doing?" Before either of us could say a word, her pelvis erupted in orgasm; she had her answer. Or did she? "Good grief!" she exclaimed. "What was that?" "That, dear Jean, was an orgasm," Kate replied softly. Jean had been lying on her back on the wooden bench, more than half asleep in spite of our torturing her crotch. She raised her torso up and supported herself on her elbows. "An orgasm?" she said. "I thought only men had those." Kate and I exchanged looks. "She was a virgin when she was raped, Kate," I said softly. Kate's eyes widened. "You poor dear!" Then she slowly shook her head and said, "Dearest Jean, a woman can certainly have an orgasm. Bill keeps me in that condition for over an hour at a time." Then, while slowly shaking her head, she added, "Why he wants to is utterly beyond me. I mean... After a while, it's just the same-old, same-old." "But what about you?" Jean asked with her eyes wide. "I'm so out of it," Kate replied casually, "I wouldn't know if it was five seconds or five hours. I'm just shaking myself to pieces with all my sensation — my whole life, in fact — in my cunt. I'm too out of it to be bored." It was apparent to me that Kate was going to go farther, but she stopped. "But if we don't get out of here pretty soon, I'm going to be going down the drain," she declared. Julia had finished with Charlie by then — tear streaks were running down Charlie's cheeks and she looked thoroughly miserable — so we shut down the sauna and went outside. Kate, Julia, and even I, jumped feet first into the freezing pool. Somehow controlling my teeth that wanted to chatter like castanets, I said, "Come on in, you guys. It's a great way to cool down!" The Baker women exchanged looks and then jumped in the way we did. You know what? I think their screams might have easily been heard in the next county! It was thoroughly delightful. Kate, Julia and I jumped out and I gave Charlie a hand. But Jean just floated while periodically sinking deeper to immerse her whole head. "What are you doing?" Kate demanded. "Oh, Kate! You won't believe how great this ice water feels on my cuts... and on my tortured crotch, too." Shaking her head in frustration, Kate just reached down and yanked the woman out by her arm. "Come on, lady," she declared, "there are a few more things to do before I rejoin my lord and master." But when she set Jean down on her feet, her legs just gave way and the woman sank down to the pool terrace. With another shake of her head, Kate effortlessly picked the woman up in her arms and carried her into the bathroom, setting her on a massage table. There she lay while Kate proceeded to work on her body using a combination of musk oil and something else. I asked about the "something else". "Oh... That's just a healing concoction we put together. It's supposed to eliminate scar tissue." She grinned and added, "And in view of Jean's condition, it will really get a test!" Boy, she sure had that one right! The woman's back, particularly, was virtually nothing but scar tissue. It was easy to see where any number of cuts had gone right down to the rib bones beneath. But, remarkably, the liquid seemed to work. I was astonished to see cuts begin to close up while I watched. "Enough of this!" Kate declared. Giving me the bottle she said, "Now you do it. I've got to get back to my lord and master. He should be good and horny by now..." She paused and then added, "And if he's not, I'm sure I'll be able to make him that way." I continued the work Kate had begun. Meanwhile, Julia had Charlie on another massage table and the girl was still crying over her torn up loins. I passed the bottle to Julia who put some on Charlie's crotch. Immediately, the crying stopped. "So good..." the girl murmured Hmm... It seems to do more than handle cuts, I thought. We finished up, and Julia led Charlie hobbling toward her suite. I was about to try to carry Jean — I don't think she even weighed 100 pounds at the time — but she swung her legs over the side of the table and stood up by herself. She wasn't too steady, though, and leaned on me for support as we moved out of the master bath in the direction of my suite. It was truly lovely! Jean just gasped when she got a good look at it. We continued on through the sitting room to the bedroom beyond. While I pulled the spread from the king-size bed, Jean opened a sliding door to the closet. Again she just gaped, but began looking for something. "Whatever would one do with a room like this?" she asked. "That's not a room, silly!" I replied. "That's a closet." "But what's it used for?" she asked. "To store things, like clothes," I answered. "But..." she stammered, "You mean... a woman might have more than a dress or two?" I didn't reply; I just giggled. Then I asked, "But what are you looking for, anyway?" "I... I thought there might be another blanket or something," she replied softly. "But never mind," she declared. "I don't really need one. I haven't had one for years, and there's no sense in getting used to such fripperies now." I looked at the bed we were to share and couldn't figure out what she was talking about. There was a beautiful candy-striped sheet set (who would weave such a thing? I wondered) along with a beautifully soft cashmere blanket. When I pointed these things out to her, Jean's eyes widened. "You can't be serious!" she exclaimed. "Surely you can't expect me to share your bed?" "Oh?" I asked casually. "Why not?" She began to cry. "I've said it before, Majesty, and I'll say it again: I am a whore! Furthermore, I regularly — and lately, exclusively — did things no other hooker would even think of doing! Think of the worst things you can imagine a woman allowing to be done to her. Then multiply by a factor of at least ten! That's me!" she screamed, then dissolved into tears. I moved close and took her in my arms. Jean tried to struggle but — surprise! — I was too strong for her. Suddenly, her struggles just stopped. It was far more disheartening to me than were her struggles. She was surrendering to me completely; she was mine to do with as I would. It was scary! For no good reason — showing off, maybe? — I lifted her up in my arms and gently laid her on the bed. She didn't move, although tears were streaming unchecked down her cheeks. "Why is it so cool in here?" she asked shyly. "Oh! That's the castle's air-conditioning system," I replied. "Isn't it neat? The humidity was murderous today, but you would never know it here, would you?" Very gently, I began to caress her body all over. When I got to her bare pussy, she spread her thighs in response to my pressure, but the volume of her tears increased substantially. "Now what's wrong?" I asked. "I was just thinking of poor Charlie," Jean replied. "She's been going down on me regularly for years." Slowly she shook her head and continued, "For months now, she's been lapping up semen from dogs, horses, ponies... almost anything on four legs with a cock." She paused and then continued, "On the other hand, it's been the only protein she's had." I pulled the covers over us and wrapped Jean in my arms. Then I began to kiss her all over. Initially, she was startled, but when she realized that it was something I really wanted to do, she relaxed... at least a little. After kissing her eyes, her ears, and her throat, I moved to her lips. They were cold and unresponsive for just a moment, but then she came to life. "Mattie!" she breathed, "your lips are like sugar." Jean began returning my kisses with increasing passion. Then she started to form her body to mine. The feeling was unreal! This continued, with me moving my lips down her tortured body to her slit. Although I had never gone down on a woman, I had had it done often enough in my presence to have some idea of what to do. Realizing that Jean Baker had been torn up repeatedly and had only just had her pubic hair pulled out, I was as gentle as I could be. I guess it was funny, really. Her vagina was flowing as I penetrated with my tongue, but then I used my finger on her G-spot while I licked her clit. She jumped! Honest to God, she jumped. But I was sufficiently larger and stronger that I could keep her down on the bed while I tormented her clit with the tip of my tongue. Soon, I had her cuming in buckets! I would take her up to a climax, let her down a bit, then take her up to a higher one. By this time, Jean was sweating buckets to go with the cum she was ejecting in a steady stream. That woman was strong! But I held her down and kept working. Not only was it fun, but her cum cream became sweeter and sweeter as I did. Finally, she reached her ultimate orgasm and just collapsed; her internal circuits had all shorted out. After thinking for a moment, I lifted her from the bed and carried her to our bathroom. Our bathtub wasn't as large as the one in the master bath, but it was plenty large enough. In ours, a bathtub orgy would have been restricted to four people or fewer, while the master's tub could have handled a platoon! Anyway, I filled it with warm water and let her soak while I changed the sheets. While Jean had been looking through the closet, I had noticed that there was a spare set on the shelf there. I changed the bed, then returned to the bath. Jean was starting to make weak-sounding noises by then, so I gently massaged her with musk oil, then lifted her out, dried her off and then carried her back to our room. Once more in the bed, I cradled her in my arms. She was just so sweet! Finally, she blinked a few times and then realized where she was. At that point, there was a gleam in her eye that I didn't recognize. "Mattie," she asked softly, "are you trying to make up for what's happened to me over the years?" To that, I just nodded. "Well," she continued in the same soft voice, "I think you could do it... If you really want to..." Quickly, I assured her that I would do absolutely anything to make it up to her. "Anything?" she repeated. "Absolutely anything!" I assured her. "Well, then it's easy," she said. "Let's see... Donald is due here in about three weeks?" I nodded. "Okay..." she mused. Then she continued, "Let's see... When you had me thrown into the dungeon, we were working on Greek and Latin, weren't we?" Suddenly I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. But I nodded. "Neato!" she exclaimed. "First thing tomorrow, we'll get going with Aristotle and Cæsar's Commentaries! Won't that be fun?" The bitch! You wouldn't believe how many dead Greeks and Romans we went through in what turned out to be five weeks. But that wasn't all! She had me reading plays written by a guy named Shakespeare. "Actually, they were written by the 6th Earl of Oxford," Jean explained, "but playwriting was in ill repute at the time — about 300 years from now — so a guy named Shakespeare has his name on them." One of his plays we read was a lot of fun. It was called, "Taming of the Shrew" and the shrew was named Katherine. This caused King Bill no end of merriment, but for some reason Kate was not nearly as amused. In fact, one evening she was preparing dinner while the rest of us — Bill, Jean, Charlie, Julia and me — sat at the breakfast table having our before-dinner drinks and watching her work. Bill again began teasing her about being a shrew. At that point Kate seemed to interrupt what she was doing and started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. My curiosity got the best of me and I asked, "Kate, what are you doing?" "Oh... nothing..." she replied vaguely. "It doesn't look like nothing to me," I retorted. "It appears that you're looking for something." She turned and glared at me. "As a matter of fact, I'm looking for a special seasoning I have for your entrée tonight." "Special seasoning? What's that?" "Cyanide!" she replied. "Bitch!" I'm sure there was really nothing to her comment, but I didn't eat very much that night. Actually, I'm sure it was just another means she used to keep me on my diet. But I'm getting ahead of my story. We were in bed after Jean's multiple orgasms. Even after having a lovely bath, her pelvis was occasionally still shaking with after-shocks. The woman held me in her arms and actually molded her body to mine. That's the last think I remembered as we both drifted off to sleep. The bed was at least as comfortable as Kate's and I was feeling warm and wonderful as I began to awaken the next morning. Only then did I become aware of a wonderful sensation in my pussy. Looking down, I saw Jean on her knees between my widespread thighs feasting on my cunt. It was funny, really. Periodically, she would pause and mentally review what I had done to her the night before and then tried to do the same thing with me. All I can say is that she was a very fast learner. She took me from one orgasm to an even more powerful one, over and over and over. She even found my G-spot, even though she didn't have the slightest idea what it was. That was about the last thing I remembered. When I awakened — or, more accurately, regained consciousness — Jean was still kneeling between my thighs. "Mattie!" she softly exclaimed, "I never knew a woman could be as sweet as you are." Then with her eyes wide she asked, "Are all women as sweet?" That's one question I couldn't answer. At any rate, we began my preliminary torture: Greek, Latin and the rest. On the other hand, I reciprocated by working Jean as hard physically as she was working me mentally. I guess it really got to be a game for us, with each trying to make the other quit and ask for a rest. But that was something neither of us was willing to do. A word about timing: Earlier I wrote that Donald was expected in three weeks and my slavery was to begin in four. Well, it turned out that that spring was the wettest in history; it took him that long — and dozens of detours along the way — to reach Essex. Moreover, the same thing was true of the five other women who would be enslaved with me. Thus, we had extra weeks. While all this was going on, Charlie and Julia had become the best of friends. That first morning, though, it was funny. Julia was still sleeping when Charlie joined Jean and me for breakfast. As usual, Kate was doing the cooking. Charlie reported that Julia had gone down on her the night before. She described a series of orgasms, but the poor kid didn't know what they were. "Did you go down on Julia, too?" Jean asked. The girl just slowly shook her head, obviously puzzled. "No, Mommy, of course not," she replied. "I mean... Julia hadn't been fucked or anything, so there wasn't any cum for me to lap up." Then she raised her head and added, "And besides... With Queen Kate's marvelous food, I don't need the cum for protein anymore." Jean just shook her head. "Did it feel good?" she asked. "The things Julia was doing to you?" "Oh, Mommy!" the girl enthused, "it was the most marvelous feeling I've ever had!" "Oh," Jean said flatly. "I guess you'd been fucked before going to bed last night, then?" "Mommy!" the girl exclaimed. "Don't be silly! I... I'm still a virgin." "I don't understand," Jean said, speaking slowly. "You only go down on a woman after she's been fucked to get all that yummy cum. But Julia went down on you, and you hadn't been. Why did she do it?" Charlie thought about Jean's words, and a series of emotions were obvious on her face, ending with extreme embarrassment. "To make me feel good?" she finally answered. "Golly! I think she's got it!" Jean retorted sarcastically. After a pregnant pause she continued, "Hmm... A reigning princess — the crown princess of probably the most important nation in Europe — goes down on a commoner. Indeed, certainly the most common commoner in the realm. But could the commoner return the favor? Don't be silly! Why should she? After all, there wouldn't even be any cum there, so why bother?" Charlie just shed the terry robe she was wearing and scampered off in the direction of her suite. Obviously, she didn't bother closing any doors because shortly afterward we began to hear Julia's ever-more-frequent orgasmic screams. When the two finally appeared — the rest of us were finishing a feast that Kate had the nerve to call breakfast — the girls had their arms around each other's waist and were exchanging passionate kisses. Later, Julia said that Charlie was the best cunt-eater she had ever encountered. "She's even better than Bill!" she exclaimed, "and he's been practicing on me for years!" As for me, I wonder how I survived to become a slave. It seems that King Bill had been thinking about my being sentenced to school; he heard about it at breakfast that first morning. He thought it was a wonderful idea for Julia... and Kate! When he told Kate about it, she vetoed the idea. Or tried to. But then in stentorian tones, Bill exclaimed, "Slave!?" "Yes, master," Kate squeaked, "I would love to go to school." The look she gave me should have killed me on the spot. A few days later, though, I was running with Jean along a castle path when we came to the royal stables and the pasture beyond. There we found Julia and Charlie — both naked, of course, as were Jean and me — looking at the horses. There was one there who caught everyone's eye. He was a giant! The chief groom came out from the stable to greet Princess Julia, seemingly unaware of her nudity. By then, of course, I had learned that what Kate had told me earlier was true: the people of Essex were more used to seeing Julia and her naked than any other way. While they were chatting, we saw the giant horse — the groom told us his name was Titan — trot over to the fence and extend his great head out as far as he could in Charlie's direction. The girl went to him and gently stroked his neck while talking to him softly. The giant whinnied and nuzzled Charlie's neck lovingly. The groom was utterly stunned. "Titan is King William's war horse," he told us. "Just look at his size! You see that other black stallion?" He was indicating Bill's favorite mount, Satan, himself a very large horse. "Titan would make at least two of him! He was bred to carry a knight in full armor into battle. The problem is that King Bill is the only person Titan will allow on his back. But just look! He's in love with that beautiful girl!" What followed was truly astonishing. Charlie went over to the pasture gate with Titan following along on the other side of the fence. When she opened the gate, the giant came out... and laid down on the ground. Charlie just got astride him and up he went. That horse was huge! He stood about half again taller than Satan. Julia was taking it all in. Then she let out a piercing whistle and Satan came trotting over to the gate. She let him out, and he did exactly the same thing Titan had done: he got down so Julia could easily get on his back. When she did, he rose and moved beside Titan. It was incredible... and beautiful. Here were two utterly gorgeous naked young women mounted on coal-black steeds. Of course, not only were there no saddles, the horses weren't even bridled. But I saw Charlie move her knee and nudge Titan with her heels. Off they went, with Julia following on Satan. Then Julia led the way to the exercise ring and we watched the two animals work out. As I said, Titan was a war horse. They were bred for size and great strength, not for speed. Yet incredibly, Titan was almost as fast as Satan, and Satan was considered one of the fastest horses in Europe. The two horses seemed to be having an utterly marvelous time together. They went over jumps, raced around the track and did everything short of jumping through hoops. And I'm sure they would have done that, too, if there had been any. That was the beginning. From then on, the two girls and the two horses were inseparable. The funniest thing was the first time Charlie put a saddle on Titan. That horse was so proud! He was dancing, he was so happy. One day Jean and I were running — again — and we came across Charlie and Julia walking hand in hand through a field of flowers. They had just looped the horses' reins over their saddle horns and the two mounts were just following the girls like puppy dogs. While we were watching, Titan moved to the side and his head went down; grazing on the lovely dense grass, I thought. But no! His head came up and he had a lovely flower with its stem sideways in his jaw. He went to Charlie and just looked at her. She reached up, took the flower, sniffed it and then gave Titan a lingering kiss. The giant horse just stamped a hoof in excitement. And then Satan did exactly the same thing with Julia! Never had we seen anything like it. The result was that Bill presented Titan to Charlie. He told her that he hadn't had time to ride the giant, and since he was the only one who could, the poor thing wasn't getting any exercise nor any practice in his fighting skills. To Charlie, it was Christmas in June! Finally, Donald appeared. By that time, incredibly, Jean's scars had mostly disappeared. She was tanned all over and was truly a beauty. Charlie was a younger edition of her mother. When Donald and Jean kissed for the first time, the sighs from the rest of us — Kate, Julia and me — could easily have been heard a mile away. The electricity flowing between them was palpable. Charlie was greeted the same way, and had the same reaction. At the festive dinner that night, things started to unravel. Although Donald was King of Cumberland and a state visitor, we ate in the royal apartment rather than the Great Hall of State. The one concession Kate did make, though, was to ask the palace chef, Ellie, if she would, as a very great favor... Ellie was so damned cute. I think it's fair to say that Ellie and Kate had a mother-daughter relationship, and like all mothers, Ellie really knew Kate well. "Harumph!" the woman exclaimed. "I know you, Kate Essex. You're going to ask me to cook for you tonight, aren't you? I can always tell." Kate blushed down to her shoe tops but very shyly nodded her head. "You want me to cook, without so much as a single sous-chef... Without my cherished pots and pans... Oh, you selfish thing!" At that point, poor Kate looked like a five-year-old being made to stand in the corner. But enough was enough. "My darling queen, I would be utterly delighted!" Ellie enthused. When Kate instantly brightened, Ellie took her in her arms and smothered her with kisses. Then the two planned the marvelous menu for the dinner. But I said things between Donald and Jean were beginning to unravel. It started at cocktails — something very new and different to Donald, by the way — served with the most remarkable canapés I've ever encountered. He announced that he and Jean were going to be married before returning to Cumberland. Jean objected. Strenuously! Then we heard in the greatest detail some of the things that had happened to her and which she had been made to do. Talk about a great way to ruin an otherwise marvelous dinner, that story took the cake! When the rest of us were gray — except for Charlie; she had lived through it — Jean stopped. Donald was silent for a few minutes. Then to me he said, "Mattie, in Bosnia, was Jean your slave? Often the tutor was, and I was just wondering... ?" I instantly knew where he was going. "As a matter of fact, she was," I said thoughtfully, lying like a rug. "Will you sell her to me?" he asked. "Even though she was thrown out of the castle, I doubt if she was freed." "That's true," I agreed. "For how much?" "Well..." he said, stretching out the word, "we've just learned what a depraved life she's been leading, so... How about two pieces of silver?" "Make it three," I countered. "The depravity I'll concede, but you can see how firm her muscles are. She'll make a fine field hand. And then, of course, her daughter goes with her, so..." Jean and Charlie were both in a state of shock while Don and I continued our negotiations. We finally closed the deal at two pieces of silver plus some copper. Don very deliberately opened his purse and carefully counted out the price on the coffee table. When he finished, and I just as carefully counted the coins again, I asked, "Would you like a bill of sale?" "Don't be silly!" Donald said expansively. "I have the word of a reigning queen, given in the presence of the King and Queen of Essex! I certainly need no more than that." Then to Jean he said, "Come here, slave!" Tears were flowing in twin streams down her cheeks by this time, but Jean rose from the sofa and went to him. He sat her across his lap and proceeded to kiss her. Initially, she was startled. Then her arms went around his neck and she hugged him while their lips were merged. Donald turned up the heat, and Jean began to struggle, but it was futile. We all saw her just go limp in his arms; he had put her out with a kiss. Gently, he stroked her now-beautiful body through the gauze-like summer gown she was wearing. Slowly, she recovered consciousness while he continued to hold her tightly. When she finally had her wits about her he said, "Our wedding will be on Saturday at eleven." "But... !" Jean started to protest again. "Slave!" he commanded. "Yes, master," Jean conceded dejectedly, "Saturday at eleven." On Sunday morning, the King and Queen of Cumberland rode off toward home accompanied by the Crown Princess Charlene riding on Titan. Queen Jean had a small pillow under her bottom on the saddle. When I asked her about it, she replied acerbically, "Don fucked my ass off last night is why I'm sitting on a pillow." Then glaring at me she added, "You do know, Matilda of Slobovia, I will get even. I don't know how or when, but I will. You can bet on it!" The next day my slavery began. ------- Oh, dear! Before starting on that, I should tie up a loose end. Specifically, what happened to Kathy Schmidt's former owners. When we left that tale, the Essex chief of detectives was going off to Kathy's former home to interview the servants. And, as she had guessed, when promised their personal safety, the servants talked. And talked... And talked. The result was that a total of ten bodies were ultimately exhumed. There were the remains of two women along with eight children, two of whom were mere infants. When the police returned to town, it was on the Saturday that Kathy and Sally were to be wed. The couple to whom Kathy had been enslaved were nobles, Lord and Lady Something-or-other. He was a mere baronet, but what the hell... It does rank as nobility. At any rate, the trial was held on Tuesday morning following the wedding. Sentence was pronounced. The verdict and sentence were both appealed, but the appeal was denied. The sentence of the court was that the two were taken out in front of the castle. There they were stripped naked and received 20 lashes with a whip that afternoon, followed by 20 more, morning and afternoon, on the two succeeding days. They were given no food, but were watered. Bill wanted to be sure they were conscious enough to be aware of their punishment. On Saturday morning, the two were hanged. Kathy was invited to trip the trap doors on the scaffold, and it was an invitation she accepted gratefully. Execution was carried out, and the bodies were left hanging as a warning to any other slave owner not to mistreat his slaves. But Bill was quite upset. He pointed out that the culprits had been charged with their crimes on Saturday, and it was a full week later before sentence was carried out. "Whatever will the people think of me?" he asked Kate plaintively. "After all, justice delayed is justice denied, and taking a full week... ?" He just shook his head sadly. "But darling," Kate responded, "I'm sure they'll understand. First of all, that Saturday was Kathy's wedding day. Surely the people wouldn't want the wedding disrupted. And then Monday was a holy day... and Kathy and Bill had only been married for about 48 hours by then. I'm not sure they had even left their bed for the first time, yet. "Then you convened the court bright and early on Tuesday morning." She paused, but then continued, "And since the villains were nobility, there was that automatic appeal to the supreme court... and that took an extra day." She smiled warmly at Bill and said, "Darling, I never did even compliment you on your judicial robes, either! You looked utterly marvelous in them. And that black fur trim... ! Wonderful! Anyway, as soon as the appeal was denied, your executioners began to carry out the sentence. So really, you should stop counting on Wednesday, and that really isn't so bad, is it?" "You're just saying that to make me feel better," Bill replied glumly. "Damn it, Kate, taking a full week after indictment is too damned slow!" "I'm sure you'll do better next time, darling!" Kate reassured him. And she was right. In every subsequent trial in Essex I ever heard about, sentence was carried out within 48 hours or less from the time of the indictment. That's fast enough for justice to be served, don't you think? I knew you would agree! ------- Chapter 29 That morning in the stable started off as usual. I nibbled on Carla's labia, and her leg popped straight up in the air opening her cunt to my morning assault. The little bitch couldn't settle for nibbling on mine though; she had to tug one of my labial rings first. And, also as usual, when she used her teeth to tug on my clitoral ring, she was rewarded with a flow of my juices — that damned ring works like a faucet — as well as even more cum accumulated from the night before. Looking at Carla's raised leg, I was impressed again with how muscular it then was. When first we met, her body was pale and soft. By then, it was deeply tanned and hard-muscled all over. A little explanation is in order. There were six of us in the pony team. We slept in the stable strapped in pairs to a heavy beam that ran the length of the stable. After our evening feeding, we were strapped in place front to back and the men were allowed in. The prior night's events would be a good illustration of what our life of slavery was like. I looked up and greeted Jim, Carla's guy. She twisted around and managed to smile warmly at him before turning around to take the first waiting cock in her mouth. The girl's mouth opened wide and Harry's cock disappeared inside all the way. I suppose I would have seen her mouth compress in suction, but simultaneously I felt a cock slide into my vagina from behind while another cock was presented to my mouth. Like Carla, I took it all the way in and began to suck on it. We were all wearing our collars and our wrists were secured to the back of them, so all our cocksucking was with our mouths alone. I could feel the cock begin to pulse, and I sucked even harder. He came once, twice, three times while I eagerly swallowed his cream, our only source of animal protein. After carefully licking it off, I looked up and said, "Thank you so much, Jack, for your luscious cum!" Then with a little grin I added, "What did you eat today? Your cum is particularly delicious this evening." In the meantime, Jim was stroking Carla's lovely ass and gently caressing the insides of her thighs. Then his fingertips moved to the deep brands on her flanks. "Mmm..." he murmured. "Lovely!" By this time I could see that Carla's puffy labia had swelled even more. She began to bounce up and down on her toes, her signal that she was washing away and desperately needed a cock. But Jim was not to be rushed. Instead, he caught some of her vaginal juice and licked it off his hand. Then he started to explore her cavity with his fingers. He found her G-spot and Carla began to shake the whole bench with her first orgasm of the night. "Please, Jim!" she begged, twisting around. "Just fuck me!" She had just thanked one patron for his luscious cum, while she waited for the next. Finally, he eased into her very tight cunt. It was wonderful to watch as she wriggled her butt to get him ever deeper inside. I could hear murmurs of pleasure coming from her, in spite of having a cock again buried deep in her throat. (I wonder what it felt like to the guy?) Finally achieving full penetration, Jim began to pound her luscious cunt. Again the bench began to shake as Carla reached orgasm again... and again... and again. The bench-shaking was far stronger, although more erratic, by this time; at least three other girls were shaking in orgasm at the same time. And you know what? When six very-muscular women are all in orgasm at once, it's quite a lot of shaking. Although I should say five. While I achieved orgasm with others, they were just light and comfortable, totally unlike the convulsions I reached whenever Mike was in me. I could see Jim shaking too as he released inside Carla's greedy pussy. When he softened, he withdrew and went back to caressing her all over while he recovered. Since he was only 19, I knew he would be good for at least two more before the evening was over. By this time I had been fucked by eight? nine? ten? different guys and had taken even more than that in my mouth. I thought about how I had come to be in the stable in the first place. I offered to serve as a slave if Bill of Essex would only fuck me. Well, he didn't, but, Heaven knows, enough other guys did. Here I was, the leading hedonist of Slobovia serving as a sexual receptacle for any guy that came along. I looked up and smiled. There before me was Mike. He is truly a giant among men, standing almost six feet five and weighing somewhere north of 250. And his sexual equipment is at least to scale! He is enormous. And it was for this reason that he was always the last man to take me. Much earlier in my slavery, I took him early in the evening, but then didn't feel a thing as other men followed. I'm sure my cunt had been so stretched that they must have felt they were fucking air. But now we had a system. First, I would take him in my mouth — no mean achievement, I might add — and then in my cunt. Occasionally, he would even take me in the ass. When he did that, I always ended up feeling open to the world with my asshole, my cunt and my mouth all gaping wide. I massaged his cock in my mouth with my tongue and lips. I loved it! And I loved him, I must admit. Finally, he let go. When he did, I pulled back so he exploded in my mouth, not down my throat. I had come to adore the taste of his luscious rich cum. Then after a few brief minutes of rest during which time I took two more men in my mouth and another in my cunt, he went around behind me. The first thing he did was to spank my bottom. The first thing I did was to wriggle it in delight. Then he eased into my cunt flooded with Heaven knows how much cum from all the men before, plus my juices flowing in a flood. Oh, yeah... He always jerked my clit ring, too, to really open the faucet! While every other guy just slid right into my capacious cunt, not Mike. He had to put me on his cock as if he was putting on a very tight glove. As he entered, I could feel every glorious millimeter of his lovely smooth cock as it penetrated deeper and deeper. When he was fully inside, he proceeded to give me the fucking of my life! (And you know what? That's what I think every night, and I think it's true. He just gets better and better and better.) By this time, I no longer had a cock in my mouth for the first time all evening. It's not that there were no more guys, it's the fact that they had learned — painfully — not to have their equipment in my mouth when Mike was doing the fucking. I screamed! I shook the bench so hard, I almost shook it apart. Aside from everything else, I'm both the largest and the strongest of the girls. While I'm screaming, Jim is giving Carla her last fucking of the night. And she's screaming, "Harder, Jim! Please fuck me harder!" Such talk, and from a reigning monarch, too. But finally, it's over. The stable hands come in. We raise our legs above the horizontal to allow them to place boards under our heads and feet so we can sleep more or less horizontally. And it's in this position — typically with the three pairs of girls sleeping facing each other — that we awaken. Oh, yes! We've christened ourselves the Cum Sluts. We've come to adore the taste. And you know what else? It really must be a sight to see each morning when six deeply tanned and very muscular legs are pointed up toward the ceiling as we breakfast on last night's cum from each other's pussies. By this time we were completing our period of slavery; only one more day to go, believe it or not! I guess some additional background is in order. First, who is Carla? She is Carla, Queen of Castile y Aragon, the bride of Carlos, King of Aragon. Their marriage, just prior to her leaving for Essex, effected the merger of the two Spanish kingdoms. Talk about a marriage made in hell, hers was the one. In the first place, she was a 17-year-old virgin marrying a 45-year-old rake. Second — if you can believe it — because he was so experienced with mistresses and whores, he felt he was too old to break in another virgin. A condition of her slavery was that she was to be "broken in". As both the senior in rank and in age among the six of us, I took the lead. I was the first one branded and the first to be pierced. I guess it must have been my ego — I was determined to be ahead of Leila Jones in something — I not only had my nipples pierced and ringed, but I pierced and ringed my navel, my clitoral hood, and put two rings on each of my labia myself. I got that idea when my nipples were pierced with the leather punch. The pain was so agonizing, I felt that if I pierced other body parts I would scarcely feel the additional pain. I was right... to a point. Piercing my clitoral hood was one thing, but driving the thick gold ring through the hole was something else again. I really did feel that. Oh yeah... One more thing: A month after being branded, I had my brands tattooed in the full colors of the Essex Coat of Arms. That was successful, too, because all the other girls copied it. Since Carla and I were the two queens, we were paired, although I am much larger than she is. While I'm five feet ten and a bit, she is five feet four. Although, I learned, she is still taller than her husband, Carlos, who is only five feet one. Anyway, it was I who held Carla while her nipples were being pierced. I held each of her breasts in both hands and squeezed to elongate her nipples for piercing, and then after the holes were made and the rings inserted, I licked the blood from her now-mangled tits. I said Carla was muscular and so was I. The reason for the muscles is largely due to the fact that she was a constant fuck-up for about the first six weeks of our slavery. As a result, she was constantly being sentenced to turn the hand cranks on the emergency generators. Remember those from Leila's tale? Anyway, she was small and pretty weak at the time, so I always went with her; we turned those damned cranks together for hours at a time. I guess you should know about our sleeping. We were strapped together at the waist with a very strong but flexible strap. Like the other two pairs of women, we were bound head to foot, as I'm sure you realized from the earlier paragraphs. Each night, after our dinner of oats and water, we were put in our harness with our feet on the dirt floor. The doors would be opened and the men would pile in for their evening's entertainment: us. From the outset, Carla was taken by a young man named Jim. While I coached her — and managed to twist my body around to lick her cunt — he took her virginity. Initially, she screamed while I sucked up the blood. But he continued to work on her and actually took her to her first orgasm that night. We learned something else. A diet of oats and water isn't the neatest thing in the world. (In fact, if anyone would dare ever to serve me a bowl of oatmeal, he or she would instantly find it upside down on his or her head!) To say the very least, our diet lacked protein. This was solved by Jim bringing friends with him. While he was fucking Carla, his friends were cuming in her mouth. But you already knew that. After a bit of experimentation, each of the other girls had regulars, or specials, or whatever. In any event, after a few weeks, there was only a single guy fucking each of the other girls. But the guys, like Jim, arranged to have friends with them to provide the other girls with their protein. I was the exception. I would take a dozen or more different men each night, thus providing cum for Carla's breakfast the next morning. But it would always end with Mike taking me. At any rate, back to my tale. The grooms came in, led us to the feed trough and then watered us. Because it was the last day, after being hosed down, our bodies were oiled. And we did look good, if I do say so myself. The hair on our heads was very short — crew cut, really — and it was the only hair we had. I must say that even after three months, I still shivered whenever I had to raise my arms to have my armpits shaved. We were shaved dry, of course, but there were only a few nicks. The razor was always — thankfully — very sharp. As we were led out into the courtyard to be harnessed, I thought about my feet. When — and if — I ever get into a bed again, I thought, the soles of my feet would be like hooves. Kate had said that I would need to toughen my feet, and by God, they became tough! I took my position as the wheel horse for the team; Carla, being the shortest, was in the first rank. Bells were attached to our nipple rings — and a bell hung on a short chain from my clit ring — and our wrists were again attached to the backs of our collars. Fortunately, there would be no speed trials that day. While we were normally set up in a team of six, when we have trials — or races — we do it in teams of two. Carla and I always lost for the first six weeks or so — one of the reasons for the time on the cranks — but as her strength increased and we learned to work together, our speed picked up. For the last few weeks, we had been winning every time. Finally, everything was ready and Princess Julia came out from the castle. Getting into the chariot, she cracked the whip over my shoulders and we were off. I must say, we looked and sounded good. Our knees came up in unison while we rotated our torsos back and forth in time. This caused our tit bells to ring merrily. And you know what? Each of the six sets of tit bells sounded a different note. It was cute, and the little kids loved it. My clit bell had the lowest pitch of all, and it essentially provided the bass for the melody of our tits. It took only a few moments for me to figure out where we were going. Out we went only ten miles to the little waterfall and glen that Leila had found months before. By now it was late August, and it was hot! And, quite frankly, while the oil on our bodies looked good, it inhibited our sweating and we were really sweating — or trying to. And even though it was only ten miles, Julia had to use her whip repeatedly toward the end. By the time we arrived at the little pond, all of us were bleeding from whip cuts on our shoulders and backs, but I'm not sure any of us were even aware of it. Feeling the crack of a whip on my back had become just a part of my life. Finally, we stopped. Julia got down from the chariot and began to unharness us. As usual, she did me last. I must say, it was a great relief finally to be able to lower my arms. Even though I had been doing it for months by that time, my shoulder muscles continued to cramp up on me. Julia even produced a couple of bars of soap she gave to the other girls. With yelps of glee, they wasted no time in jumping into the little pool and then fighting for position under the icy waterfall to soap off the oil and sweat. The fact that the water was very cold didn't concern them in the slightest; I'm not sure if any of them even knew it was cold. Julia took a blanket from the chariot, spread it on the ground, and then held her arms out to me. I laid down on the blanket beside her and took her into my arms ignoring my own sweat and oil. It's what Julia both wanted and expected. When we kissed, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before, but it was something that had been building between us almost from the first day of my slavery. She had become very special to me, and I think I had become special to her, too. She told me everything, confiding her hopes and her dreams. And boy, did I ever hear about that paragon of manhood, Bill Morrison! The beautiful girl was deeply in love, and on her it really looked good. I truly savored our first kiss of the morning and used my tongue to explore her mouth. The first time I had done it, weeks earlier, Julia had initially recoiled in shock, but now she was as eager to explore my mouth as I was to explore hers. Love just poured back and forth between us. When our lips finally broke contact, Julia breathed, "Mommy..." "What did you say?" I nearly screamed. "I said 'Mommy'," Julia replied. Then with a lovely little grin she added, "What the hell did you think I said?" "But—" "'But' nothing," Julia interrupted. "I know what you're going to say: Kate's my mother. But she's not and all of us know it now." She paused and then continued, "Kate and I talked it over at breakfast this morning. She said that ever since you came to Essex, she's seen a change in me. 'As warm and as sweet as you've always been, Julia, it's nothing like the way you are in the presence of Mattie.' Then she grinned and added, 'Darling Julia, she's your mother, and you're my kid sister. And a more wonderful little sister no woman has ever had!'" Julia looked into my eyes and said, "Honest, Mom, that's exactly what she said. She says that I have the same need to please you that a daughter has to please her mother. So anyway, Mom, you're it!" I was stunned. Or I told myself I was stunned. In reality, though, I knew exactly what she was going to say before she had said it... because it was true. Julia of Essex had become my flesh and blood. Love? I would cheerfully offer up my life to protect her. I just shook my head. "How are you making out with Mike, by the way?" she asked, changing the subject. I just glared at her. Julia thought for a moment and then giggled. It was the loveliest, merriest sound I've ever heard. "Oops!" she conceded. "Bad choice of words." She grinned and asked, "How are you doing with Mike?" I just slowly shook my head. "I really don't know," I finally replied. "He's... he's..." I was at a loss for words. The fact was I was afraid to admit it, even to myself. I was blindly, head-over-heels in love with the guy. He was utterly perfect in my eyes. But I was married. Looking into Julia's eyes, it was as if she were privy to my thoughts. The expression on her face changed appropriately with my thoughts. Finally she said, "It will work out, Mommy. I'm certain it will." By that time the other girls had finished washing. Some were sunning themselves dry on the grass while the rest continued to play in the water. Julia held out her hands to me. Getting off the blanket, we both dove in. Then she proceeded to give me a bath... and what a bath it was. She soaped me all over and kissed my most recent whip cuts. She soaped my hair — now just a crewcut — and caressed my body all over. I guess I yelped when she twisted my clit ring. But she just giggled as she held her other hand under my gushing vagina and licked off my fluids. "Mmm... You're as sweet as sugar, Mommy... As usual," she reported. I guess I just grimaced. Finally clean, we swam to shore and I proceeded to let my body dry in the sun. After all, that was the way we always did it. As she began to re-harness us to the chariot, she said casually, "By the way, your slavery ends when we return to the castle." "What!" I screamed. "Your slavery ends when we return to the castle," she repeated. "What's so hard to understand about that?" By that time we were almost all back in harness — Carla being the last — and I casually urinated on the ground as did two of the other girls. Being treated like animals, we were expected to act like them and we did. The trip back to the castle that day was the fastest ever. We were really moving along! Back in the courtyard, our harnesses were removed and then our collars and leather cuffs. We were free! Julia led the way into the castle and up to the royal apartment. As reigning queens, Carla and I each had suites of our own while the other four, being merely princesses, had two suites among the four of them. Even though she had a suite of her own, Carla came into mine along with Julia. The three of us took showers, then went out to the sauna — a first for Carla — and then jumped into the icy pool. Poor Carla! The poor kid almost froze her tits off! God, did she scream! We made it up to her, though, by putting her into my baby swimming pool and bathing her with musk oil. I cradled the girl's head in my lap while Julia worked the expensive oil into her body. While Julia was working, Carla had her eyes closed. Then in a soft voice as if she were talking to herself she said, "I don't want to go back." Julia didn't miss a beat. "I didn't think you did," she said softly. "And neither do King William or Queen Katherine." At that Carla's eyes popped open. "You didn't... ?" she stammered. "They don't... ?" "Of course not!" Julia retorted. "Carla, you're far too good for Carlos! My God! When you arrived, you were an untouched virgin, while he's..." She just shook her head. "Honey, the fact of the matter is that the best thing that ever happened to you was to be sent here." "Why?" the girl asked. Julia swallowed hard. Apparently she had begun something she didn't really want to finish. I was fairly sure I knew what it was, but I said nothing. From the look on her face, I realized she had reached a conclusion. She continued, "Carla, Carlos is rotting with every sexually transmitted disease known to man... and a few more besides. King Bill doesn't think he'll even be alive in two years. Sweetie, if you had shared his bed, he would have infected you!" "But..." Carla stammered, "now what?" "Jim took your virginity, didn't he?" Julia said, apparently changing the subject. Carla just nodded her agreement. "How many different men have you had?" Julia asked. Carla slowly shook her head, but I replied, "The answer to that is simple: only one." I grinned and added, "Since we've been tied together head to feet, I've had a view of her lovely cunt, and I can assure you both that only one cock has ever been in it." Then I added, "Of course if you ask about her mouth or down her throat, that's a very different story. The answer to that one is, 'Lots!'" Carla very cutely stuck out her tongue at me for that one. "But what can I do?" the girl asked. "I'm married!" "Sort of," Julia retorted. "What's that supposed to mean?" "That means your marriage has never been consummated. An annulment under such a circumstance is a cinch!" "But... My parents... ?" "Honey, when they married you off to that creep, they left the picture. You're your own woman now." Julia paused and seemed to look around our bathroom. Then she asked, "What about Jim?" "I would marry him in a heartbeat!" Carla exclaimed. Then warming to her subject she added, "I have some money, and I could get a job as a waitress or something to support us, and—" "What for?" Julia asked casually, interrupting Carla's speech. "For food, dummy!" Carla retorted. "Why else would I be working?" "I repeat: What for?" Carla just shook her head in utter frustration at Julia's retort. "Oh, dear... !" Julia said, sounding as phony as a three-dollar bill would appear. "I'll bet I forgot something..." "Like... ?" Carla prompted. "Well, golly... I mean... He's been fucking you with monotonous regularity, but maybe you haven't had a chance to talk too much..." "With a guy's cock almost always down my throat, you've got that right," Carla agreed. "Golly," Julia continued, "that being the case, you might not even know that he is James I, King of Lancaster. (Lancaster was the nation bordering Essex to the east.) He's been here for months learning how we do things and how to rule. You see, he only became king a few months ago when both his parents were killed in a tragic accident." She grinned and added, "Last time I checked, the king of Lancaster was good for a few bucks." Carla's reaction amazed both of us: she began to cry like her heart was broken. When she finally calmed down enough to talk, I asked her what happened? "But don't you see, Mattie?" she cried. "I'm a whore! I'm mutilated for life! No nobleman would even deign to look at me!" "Gee, that's funny..." Julia mused. "What's funny?" Carla asked. "I wonder why... ?" she murmured. "There must be some reason..." "Julia!" Carla nearly screamed. "Stop that this instant if you ever want to see another sunrise! And I'm very strong now, and can make good on my threat, you know," she concluded proudly. "Well... It's just that... Oh, I don't know... I really shouldn't be saying anything. I mean... I did sort of promise..." "Julia!" Carla screamed again. "Oh, what the hell... After all, I have become rather fond of breathing..." Looking at Carla she said, "Well, if he has no interest in you, why do you suppose he's bothered to learn the flamenco?" "Flamenco? Jim? You're kidding!" "Mother, would I kid Carla about something like this?" "Yes, you would," I replied dryly, "but I think this time you're telling the truth for a change." "Mo-ther!" Julia pouted while splitting the word. "The flamenco..." Carla mused. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright in the pool and began to cry. "Oh, shit!" I murmured. "What is it this time?" "My feet!" the lovely girl cried. "How can I possibly do the flamenco if I can't get my feet in a pair of shoes?" "Oh, is that all?" I said dryly. "Hell, that's no problem. We can always shoe you with horseshoes... and they would make lovely tapping sounds, too." "Grr!" was Carla's only reply. But then she said, "There's only one other thing..." "What's that?" I asked, falling into her trap. "You know," she said, shaking her head in dismay, "Carla, Queen of Castile y Lancaster, lacks a little something in euphony, don't you think?" Then changing the subject, she asked, "But what's this business with Julia calling you 'mother'? Queen Kate is her mother." Slowly I shook my head. "No, dear. I'm afraid the poor kid is stuck with me now." ------- Chapter 30 The next morning I was really pissed! Here I was, sleeping in the world's most comfortable bed — the only bed I had even seen in months — and I woke up early. Not only that, but I couldn't even get back to sleep. With the greatest reluctance, I left my suite and padded out to the kitchen. There I found Kate starting to prepare breakfast. A smart woman, Kate: when she saw the storm cloud over my head, she didn't even bother to ask how I had slept. Instead, she took me by surprise with her first comment: "Julia tells me that you're now her mother, and I've been demoted to older sister." I was stunned. But I did something smart for a change: I said nothing. "No comment?" she asked. I just shook my head slowly. "Well, I have a comment ... Mommy." I was utterly flabbergasted. "Wha ... what did you say?" Instead of immediately replying, Kate came over and sat across my lap. Putting her arms around my neck she said softly, "Mattie, if Julia is your daughter and she's my baby sister, what does that make me to you?" "You would consider... ? You would like... ?" Then I just shook my head in utter negation and said, "I just flat out do not believe this! That a woman as utterly perfect as you are, Kate, would care to have anything to do with me at all is a miracle of the age. But a relationship... ? My daughter... ? Utterly impossible!" Kate ignored my words. Instead she hugged me tightly and started to cry. It was unreal! It was as if a dam had broken and everything — all the hurts — accumulated over the years just started to pour out. I held her tightly, gently caressed her body and stroked her hair. The words pouring out began to slow and finally stopped, but I could feel her body still shaking in my arms. Finally, even the shaking stopped and I lifted her head off my shoulder just far enough to be able to kiss her. Her lips were as sweet as sugar, and I really unloaded. I kissed her with all the power I could muster, and she returned it the same way. There was a two-way flood of love that was not to be believed. Finally, she eased away just enough to speak. "I love you, Mommy!" she whispered. Then she just rested her head on my shoulder while I continued my caresses. This utterly magnificent woman was purring like a kitten as she just snuggled as close to me as she could get. Oh, yeah ... I guess I forgot to mention we were both naked at the time. Then she started to move a bit. Her hand stroked my tit and began to toy with my nipple ring. Then she moved just enough to be able to take it in her mouth and nurse at my nipple. "So good... !" she murmured. Just then I looked up to see Bill just standing at the doorway, watching. I was initially surprised, but then I saw the look of intense love in his eyes. When he saw that I was looking at him — was aware of his presence — he said softly, "Thank you ... Mother." Then he continued speaking softly, and speaking only to me. "What you have done is of incalculable value to the Kingdom of Essex," he said. "You know the position Kate enjoys in the kingdom. She's irreplaceable. She is the real ruler of this kingdom, and every citizen knows it. As you've seen yourself, she is loved by everyone." Then he shook his head and said, "But as much as she does for everyone, she's never had anyone to truly comfort her ... to tell her that what she's doing is right ... that she is a truly good woman. In other words, she's never had a mother. But now she does, and just look! "Have you ever seen anyone as happy as Kate is right now? She is in her mother's loving arms. She's still feeling the power of your kiss." Bill shook his head, bothered by something. "I'm not saying this very well at all. I love her with all my heart, and she knows it. But still..." "William of Essex, you and Kate are one. There is a single person in two bodies. It has been that way ever since you returned from your honeymoon. I don't know what happened ... No! I do know what happened. I just don't know how it happened, but you merged two wonderful people into only one." "But I'm not her mother, and never can be," Bill said. "We share a mutual passion and warmth, but it's a lover's warmth, not a mother's. Do you understand?" And you know what? I really did. "My beautiful darling daughter!" I breathed. Kate was still chewing on my nipple. All she did was to purr. By this time other women started to appear, most rubbing sleep from their eyes, but all were naked. Except for Kate and Julia, all had the seal of Essex in Technicolor on their flanks and gold rings piercing their nipples. They were all truly lovely. Kate sat up, then kissed my nose, my eyes, my ears, and then my lips. "I love you, Mommy," she murmured. Then she got off my lap and resumed preparing breakfast. After eating, the other four girls slipped into Levi's cut-offs (what else?) and ratty shirts, then set off to explore the town. I decided to see what I could do for shoes for Carla. After dressing I turned to Kate and said, "Darling, could I borrow—" Before I could finish, I had Kate's answer: "No!" "But—" "On instructions from my lord and master, you may not borrow anything! On the other hand, you are welcome to everything — and he means everything — we own! Now how much would you like to have?" "A pair of shoes for Carla... ?" I murmured. "Oh, shit!" she muttered. "That's going to be a problem..." "But how can it be?" I asked. "Surely, there must be some place for her to get a pair of shoes?" "Mom, you don't understand. Getting them is not the problem; paying for them is." I just shook my head. This did not compute. Kate giggled, and it was an utterly lovely sound. "My lord and master wasted no time, Mommy." Then she picked up a piece of paper and gave it to me to read. "The Town Criers are already spreading this news, and this notice is being posted on every available signboard in the kingdom." It read: Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, all citizens of the Kingdom of Essex: For signal service to the Crown, and particularly to Queen Kate and Crown Princess Julia, Matilda, Queen of Slobovia (known to most of you as Mattie) is declared to be a noble citizen of our kingdom ranking ahead of me and even ahead of Queen Kate and Crown Princess Julia. She is to be accorded all respect and deference due to one in her unique station. /s/ William, Rex "My God!" I breathed. "What is this?" "Mother, you have just buried forever and ever all the mother-in-law jokes. The love — and respect — Bill has for you is almost beyond belief. Mom, to Bill, you walk on water, do not get feet wet. Okay?" Suddenly it penetrated. It wasn't a matter of money; rather, Bill thought — and later events proved him to be correct — that no one in Essex would take my money. Carla and I got dressed in — you guessed it — Levi's cut-offs and ratty worn-out shirts. But we tied the tails — or what was left of them — under our now very firm tits. Off toward the town we went. Bill's people had really done their job. It seemed that already everyone in the nation had learned of my new exalted station. I was greeted with warm smiles, warm greetings, and great deference. Utterly incredible! No sooner did we reach the town than we were greeted — assaulted — by Angel Martin. "Queen Mattie!" she screamed as she leaped upward toward me. I caught the child in my arms and brought her close for a kiss. When our lips met, it was incredible! That little girl is divine! When we eased apart, her eyes were glassy, and mine probably were, too. While still in my arms, Angel looked at me and very gently ran her tiny soft hands over my face. "You're so incredibly beautiful, Mattie," she said softly. Then with her eyes dancing, she said, "Can I play with your bells?" While we had not been driven to town often, we had been there a number of times, and Angel, like the other small children, just loved the sound of our tit bells. I grimaced, but reached into my pocket and took out my bells. Seeing this, Angel's eyes really lit up. She carefully untied the knot in my shirt below my breasts and then unbuttoned it. When my breasts were bared, she reached out and gently stroked one and then the other. "Oh, Mattie!" she sighed, "your tits are utterly perfect. And they're so much firmer than Mom's, too." Then very carefully she hung the bells from my two rings. "Do you have the other one, too?" the little girl asked. Instead of replying, I put her on the ground, reached into my pocket again and took out my clit bell with its short chain. Then I just eased my shorts down from my hips. Pretending to glare at the lovely little girl I asked, "Do you want to hang this one, too?" "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. I spread my thighs and waited. Standing up, the top of Angel's head came only to my waist. Reaching up, she stroked my pussy lips and used a pair of my labial rings to spread my lips. Then she attached the end of the bell's chain to my clit ring. But she didn't stop there. After attaching the chain, she twisted the ring and obtained the usual result: I started to flow like an open faucet. Angel cupped her hand under my vulva, then raised it, licked off the fluid and then went back for more. By this time, Carla had shed her blouse and attached her own nipple bells. We both rotated our torsos causing the bells to ring merrily. Angel was delighted! Then turning, I realized that Angel's mother was standing there watching. "Mommy!" the little girl cried, "Mattie's cunt is much sweeter than yours!" "Angel!" Mary Martin said, "you shouldn't say a thing like that." "Why not, Mommy?" the girl asked innocently. "I tasted you this morning, too, and it's true." Mary Martin turned crimson. "After all, Mommy, now that you're pregnant again and your belly is swelling, I have to help Daddy get in you, so..." Mary rolled her eyes and said softly, "Angel, my love, just because something is true doesn't mean you have to tell the whole world about it." Then she looked at me and giggled. My, it was a lovely, merry sound! "But she does," Mary admitted. Then coming closer she whispered in my ear, "Not only did she put John in me, but she licked him off when he pulled out ... And licked me, too!" Since she was standing so close, I reached down and caressed her swelling belly. "How do you feel, Mary?" "Simply marvelous!" she exclaimed. "The changes here in Essex have been truly miraculous! I don't know if it had anything to do with my birth problems with Angel, but the available food here was neither plentiful nor very good. Now it's both." Standing close to me, she reached out and stroked my naked breast the same way her daughter did. But then she squeezed and discovered how firm my tits are now. She slowly moved around me as I stood for her inspection. Reaching up, she stroked my shoulders and upper arms. "You're so beautifully muscular!" she enthused. By this time she was behind me. Reaching down, she used both hands to squeeze my buns, then with the most gentle touch stroked the deep brands on both flanks. "Mattie," she finally murmured, "you are female perfection!" She paused and then added thoughtfully, "Exactly like Kate and Julia, aren't you? Except you're bigger with even more powerful muscles than they have." She completed her circuit and then with a lovely little grin, twisted my clit ring the way her daughter had. She, too, reached down cupping a hand to catch my cuntal flow, then licked it up. With her eyes wide, she looked up at me and murmured, "You poor thing..." In response, I just raised an eyebrow. "But isn't it obvious?" she asked wide-eyed. "How are you ever going to get a guy's mouth out of your cunt long enough to get his cock in? You're so deliciously sweet and juicy!" Then after slowly shaking her head she added, "Your husband is the luckiest guy in the world!" Which reminded me: There had been no word from Gus or Slobovia in months. Carla and I dressed again. Or at least, I took off my clit bell and chain and put on my shorts. Carla had slipped her shirt on again, but refused to button it; she was wearing it like an open vest framing her breasts with the golden bells still attached. Cupping her tits in her hands, she squeezed and said, "I can't help it, Mattie. For the first time in my whole life, I'm proud of my body ... And I'm particularly proud of my tits. Don't they stand up so proudly? They're almost as perfect as yours!" That remark utterly stunned me. I had had bountiful tits for as long as I could remember — very big and very flabby. Looking down at my chest, I realized for the first time the extent to which my body had changed. My breasts were still large — a full C-cup when they get around to inventing brassieres and sizing them — but they were anything but flabby. Then I did what both Angel and Mary had done earlier: I squeezed them and was shocked. There was just enough give to know they were real, not silicone, but they were very firm indeed. So I left my nipple bells on, too. Off we went in search of a shoemaker. We found one in a newly-built shop and went in. The shoemaker, a tall young man in his 20s, looked up when we entered his shop ... and gaped. "Your Majesty!" he murmured. Then he rushed around his counter to greet us. "How may I serve you today?" he asked. I explained Carla's need for shoes and then realized that I would need a pair, too. He sat us down and began to take measurements. In the meantime, Carla started to explain the particular need she had for shoes in which to dance a flamenco. The shoemaker, John Carter, just nodded and smiled. "I know all about it," he said. "I delivered a pair just this morning to a gentleman who wanted the same thing. Jim something-or-other, his name was." Then he looked more closely at Carla. In spite of being bare from below her hips upward, she sat up even straighter in her chair and thrust her shoulders back forcing her luscious tits up and out. "You're the one," he murmured. "The one what?" she asked. "He said he would be dancing with the most beautiful woman in the world," Carter said. "And looking at you, dear lady, I would not challenge his description." He paused, looked at me, and then looked back at Carla. "But I'm afraid I really must. Her Majesty's beauty is matchless!" To my great surprise, Carla just grinned. "Thank you, Mr. Carter," she said in her beautifully soft voice, "I've been telling her the same thing for weeks but she has never believed me. Perhaps you will have better luck." By this time he had finished taking his measurements and was about to return to his bench. But I could tell he wanted to ask for something but didn't dare. "What is your question, Mr. Carter?" I asked. He slowly shook his head. Then he murmured, "That's twice in only a couple of minutes..." I was genuinely puzzled. "What's that?" I asked. "I was called 'Mr. Carter' ... by royalty! That's unheard of." "Mr. Carter," I replied, "you are a tax-paying citizen of Essex. As such, you have all the rights of a freeman in this nation. And, I'm proud to say, in Essex, those rights are legion. You support my daughters and my son-in-law. Mr. Carter, we thank you." He stood up straight while slowly shaking his head. "Queen Mattie, it is this attitude and the love for their people constantly demonstrated by your daughters that cause us to love you and love our country. We are truly blessed! God save our King and Queen!" With tears starting to stream from my eyes I managed to say, "Thank you, Mr. Carter, for your very kind words. I will tell my daughters and my son-in-law ... Hell! He's my son, damn it!" I repeated, "I will tell my daughters and my son. I'm sure they will be very pleased." But then I changed tack. "Mr. Carter, you were about to ask for something. The answer is yes, but what's the question?" I'm afraid I really embarrassed the poor man. He blushed red as a beet but finally stammered, "My wife, Susan, would..." And he stopped. "Please ask your wife, Susan, to join us," I said softly. "I would love to meet the wife of such a polished gentleman." He disappeared behind a curtain in back of his little shop and returned a few moments later almost dragging his wife behind him. She was a truly beautiful young woman in her early 20s, with golden hair and brilliant blue eyes. She was protesting, but Carter insisted. "The Queen has commanded your presence!" he loudly whispered. That cut off discussion. The lovely girl dropped to her knees before me with her eyes downcast. She seemed to be unable to even look at us. I rose from the chair, raised her from the floor and kissed her. Her eyes flared in shock, but then as I worked my lips on hers, she began to return my kiss. I pulled her close and felt it as she molded her supple body to mine. I increased the power of my kiss until I felt her go limp in my arms. At that point I rested her head on my shoulder and just gently caressed her until she regained consciousness and opened her eyes. "Good morning, Mistress Carter," I said softly. "I am truly delighted to make your acquaintance." She put her fingertips to her lips and just looked at me. Finally, in the softest voice she said, "Why?" "Why what?" I asked. "Why would a great lady — a queen — care a fig about a commoner like me?" "Because it's you, Mistress Carter, and people like you and your husband, who make Essex what it is. It's not King Bill or Queen Kate; it's people like you!" "And there are two more reasons," Carla added. There were two pairs of eyes looking at us from behind the curtain. "Hi, kids!" Carla called out. "Come out here and see us." A beautiful little girl of about five came out from behind the curtain holding the hand of her little brother who looked to be about three. Both children were lovely blue-eyed blondes like their mother. I held out my hands and the girl slowly came over to me. At the same time, Carla reached out to the boy who shyly went to her. I sat down again and lifted the girl to my lap, then kissed her. It was exactly like kissing little Angel; the same innocence and grace. Carla was doing the very same thing with the little boy, and he was loving it. "The future of Essex," Carla said softly. "And with beautiful children like these, Essex's future is very bright indeed." "This is my daughter, Jill, and my son, Jimmy," Susan Carter said, vainly trying to keep the very obvious pride from her voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Carter, Queen Carla has just said it all: Your family does represent the future of Essex, and I can't tell you how happy I am about the prospect." "Qu... Queen Carla?" John stammered. "I ... I didn't know..." "That's my fault and my rudeness for not introducing my friend properly. This is Queen Carla of Castile y Aragon. That's Spain," I explained. "Two reigning monarchs in my little shop!" he exclaimed. "I can hardly believe it!" Carla was far more alert than I was that morning. Glancing out the window, she had seen some of our friends walking down the street. With little Jimmy still in her arms, she rushed out the door and called to them. A few moments later she returned along with the four princesses. "Could you handle a few princesses, too?" she asked with a lovely grin. "I realize what a come-down it will be for a craftsman like yourself who's only used to dealing with reigning monarchs, but ... As a special favor, do you think you could make this one exception?" She paused and looked at our beautiful former teammates ... and fellow Cum Sluts. Then she added, "I know they're only princesses, but they really are pretty nice. And, I mean ... They're really not terribly ugly..." By this time the little shop was really getting crowded. "Mistress Carter," I asked, "would you mind very much if we took the children out for something? Some ice cream, perhaps?" From her reaction, I'm quite sure that Susan Carter had never had ice cream herself, but she was thrilled for her children. Off we went to the ice cream shop. There, I ordered three banana splits. One each for Carla and me, and one for the two small children to share. It was the first time Carla had ever encountered ice cream herself. "You know," she commented, "the people of Essex live better than royalty does in Spain." After having her first spoonful, she pronounced it heavenly. And the two children could not have been cuter. Each had a spoon and they began eating at opposite ends of the dish. And in spite of being so young, they were perfectly behaved. And they loved it! Leaving the shop, we headed back and passed a bookshop. That gave me an idea. Going in, we found a number of children's books which we bought for the kids. (You know, the printing press using moveable type is going to be really big when it's invented in a few years.) Then I saw in the place of honor an utterly beautiful leather-bound Holy Bible. I bought that, too. Then it was time to settle, and I remembered what Bill had said about not being able to pay for anything. At the ice cream shop, it was crowded and the children received most of the attention; I don't think Carla or I were even recognized. But this shop was a different story. Furthermore, while the banana splits were worth a few coppers, the books — particularly the Bible — were a very different story. Moreover, the bookshop's proprietor had greeted me by name. He started to tell me that the books were free when I interrupted. "Mr. Adams, are you aware of the proclamation my son, the king, issued today?" "Oh yes, Your Majesty!" he assured me. "The name is Mattie, not Your Majesty, but no matter," I replied. "I believe he ordered his subjects to treat me with deference and to acquiesce to my wishes?" "Oh, yes, Your ... Mattie!" he agreed. "You're supposed to do things that make me happy, right?" Again he agreed. "Then it's easy!" I exclaimed with a big smile. A very friendly smile, I hoped. "You see, Mr. Adams, it would make me very happy to pay you for these lovely books. On the other hand, it would make me very unhappy were you to refuse payment. Now don't you really want to make me happy?" "Yes, Mattie," he agreed glumly. The poor man was close to tears as I left a small sack of gold on his counter. He lifted it, and like most merchants at the time, could tell pretty closely the value of the contents just from its weight. "Oh, no!" he protested. "This is too much! This is much too much!" "Mr. Adams, I believe I am a good judge of value. I am paying you the value of these books. That is the end of the discussion. Good day, sir, and have a nice day." Although he was very sad, I was certain he would be able to survive the trauma. We returned to the Carters with the children almost literally bouncing with happiness. After entering the shop, Carla followed the children back into the living quarters. There she sat down on the family sofa with a child on each side and started to read the first book. I watched from the doorway for a few moments and it was the loveliest thing I had seen in years. The two children treated their brand new books with awe verging on reverence. Both senior Carters were in the shop with Susan helping with the order for six pairs of slippers for the dance. (The dance, by the way, had been rescheduled to the following Saturday to provide more time for obtaining dresses and so forth.) "I have something for you two," I announced. "It's something no home should be without." I handed the Bible to Susan. Realizing what it was, the lovely woman began to cry. "It's ... it's so incredibly beautiful!" she exclaimed. Then she passed it to her husband who very gently ran his fingers over the leather cover. John Carter looked at the book and then at me. "It's the Holy Bible, isn't it?" The title was stamped on the cover and on the spine. He just kept running his fingertips over the pebble-grained leather. "You don't read, do you?" I said softly. He sadly shook his head, and Susan did, too. Then he said, "It's really wonderful what you're doing for the young people of Essex these days ... with school and all..." "And you?" I asked. "I was in the army and Susan was enslaved," he said quietly. "But she was lucky. It was only for two years, and she was in the very first group to be freed. I ... I was in the Queen's Own at the time, and a member of the detail that brought the first girls home. That's when I met my wife ... And a better wife and mother no man has ever had!" he finished proudly. "It was the happiest Christmas of our lives!" Susan said. Then she looked at me closely and added, "It's very clear where your daughters get their surpassing beauty ... and their humanity. They are filled with the same love and grace that you have in such abundance, Maj ... Mattie." Grace? Love? Me? What strange exotic substance had this woman been smoking? But then I had an idea ... two, in fact. "We're thinking of starting an adult education program here," I said. "Would you two be interested?" "Oh! Oh!" Susan exclaimed. "That would be so wonderful!" Her face fell as she continued, "You saw Jill and Jimmy with the books you bought them. Even though Jimmy isn't even four, he thirsts for knowledge." Then she looked at me with hope in her eyes and said, "Truly, I hope it will begin soon. I don't want my children to know that their parents can't read." I assured them that a school would start very soon. Then John said, "There are no words to thank you for your priceless gift to us. Imagine! A Holy Bible of our very own! For our very first book ever, there could not be a better one." Well, what do you know? I seemed to have done something right for a change. Then I said, "I hope you two are planning on attending the ball on Saturday. I know that Mary Martin would be delighted to keep your children overnight while you do." Susan gasped. "You can't be serious! I've been to the castle only once in my entire life, the night I was freed from slavery." She paused and then continued, "Everyone knows of the palace parties, but they are only for nobility and the leading citizens of the town." "No, Susan," I replied, "the parties are for all the citizens of Essex. It's a way my daughter has of showing you all how much she appreciates what you are doing for this country." "What we're doing?" John said incredulously. "We do nothing except to try to earn enough to pay for our food." "No, John. You, and all the people like you, are the ones who make this nation what it is. It's not up at the castle; it's right here! You make the nation work by doing the nation's work. We just take your money and don't do much of anything." "You defend our country!" John replied. "Had it not been for Leila Jones and my buddies in the Queen's Own, there would be no nation! We would have been killed or carried off into slavery." "That's true," I admitted, "and it does have value. We defend the nation, but you make it work. Now won't you please come to the ball? As my personal guests... ?" When I had first mentioned the ball, I had seen Susan's eyes light up. But now she was slowly shaking her head. And I knew why. "Of course, Susan will need a new dress," I said, "and perhaps a pair of dancing slippers ... John, have you ever made a pair for your wife?" He just sadly shook his head. "Well, then, it's all set," I announced. With that, I put a bag of gold coins on the counter. (Know what? Gold coins really do make a lovely sound when they clink together.) From the sound alone, John Carter's eyes widened. "No!" he declared. "I cannot! I will not! You can't do this!" Then I went into a reprise on my conversation with Mr. Adams at the bookstore. Then I told him that I was paying for all the dancing shoes he was making — particularly a pair for his beautiful wife — as well as a little extra so she could have a nice new gown to wear. John was dismayed, but Susan couldn't contain her delight. At that point Carla reappeared with the children. Little Jimmy very proudly took his parents through his picture book, pointing out a ball, a duck, a chicken ... The little boy just glowed with pride. He was reading! And his parents reflected both his pride and his joy. ------- Chapter 31 Carla and I headed back for the castle, but passed Sally Johnson's home on the way. Seeing us, she ran out and asked us please to come in. We did, and Carla was introduced to Sally and her sister, Kathy Smith, who was visiting. Sally's belly looked suspiciously convex. But another girl was there, a girl of about fifteen. Sally quickly introduced her to us as her youngest sister, Judy. Judy was visiting from Slobovia. When she learned we hadn't eaten lunch, she rushed to correct the situation. Her sister, Kathy, was watching and cocked her head pensively. "I guess there's probably enough time..." she murmured. "Time for what?" Sally asked, walking right into Kathy's line. "Time to recover from food poisoning before the ball on Saturday," her sister blithely replied. "Kathy, I'm not that bad!" Sally retorted, although there were tears at the corners of her eyes. Kathy's demeanor changed totally. "My darling sister, I owe you my very life and the lives of my husband and children." Looking at me she said, "Queen Mattie, you know the truth. You know that had it not been for Sally and what she told our queen, I would probably be dead right now. Am I not right?" I agreed and the two sisters exchanged loving kisses. Then the subject changed to Judy and Slobovia. I learned to my shock and dismay that Gustav had done it again! He had raised the tax rate to 80%! "My God!" I exclaimed, "what can that man possibly be thinking of?" "I don't understand," Carla interjected, "it's only an increase of a few percentage points, after all." "Carla," I replied, "if you don't take another thing away from Essex, learn this now: You're looking at it from the viewpoint of the monarch. But think of it from the point of view of the taxpayer. That's the way that counts. Going from a 70% rate to an 80% rate is only 10 percentage points. But it cuts the taxpayer's income by one-third! That's what really counts!" I shook my head and added, "My God! He's strangling the goose that's laying the golden eggs! And he — and his Kennedy School advisers — are too damned dumb to know it." Then to Judy Schmidt I said, "Why is it that I think this is more than a casual visit to see your sisters?" "Because it's true," the girl admitted, "and because you are so perceptive, Your Majesty." I quickly went through the naming thing, pointing out that I was a mere guest in her sister's home. If she really wanted to be polite, she could call me Mattie. She told us she was hoping to be able to stay and attend school in Essex. There were none in Slobovia. I was dismayed to realize that what she had said was all too true. Then she told us that her parents were thinking about moving to Essex, too. They flatly refused to allow her to sell herself into slavery to pay another tax bill. "And Dad's a very fine cabinetmaker," she added. "I think he would do far better here in Essex than at home, anyway. Here, the people have the money to buy good joinery. They certainly don't at home anymore." But then I learned something else that was dismaying... to say the very least. Gus hadn't been seen in public in months. She blushed, but told us that all he did was to have his agents buy in an occasional beautiful girl at the slave auction. "But the word from the castle is that he doesn't even sleep with them," Judy said. "The word is that he just orders the women to play with each other while he watches. Imagine! Sex with another woman? Disgusting!" "Don't knock it if you haven't tried it," Carla interjected with a grin. "I will only say on the basis of months of experience that Mattie has the sweetest cunt in Christendom. And she's the most loving, too." "That reminds me..." Sally began with her eyes sparkling. "Even after spending a whole night with my pussy against your diseased sex, Mattie, I haven't been sick." She tried to look thoughtful as she added, "I guess I dodged a bullet, didn't I?" Then she caused me to laugh and provoked wide-eyed shock in Judy as she showed us a locket with my golden pubic hair mixed with her lovely auburn ones in it. I just howled with laughter. Sally said, "I told you I was saving it to show to my children. And they're all going to see it, too!" she added. ------- Chapter 32 Finally, it was the night of the ball. Julia wasn't attending; Bill was still away. I had only recently learned that he was attending the War College, and on his return was going to be given a battalion of the Queen's Own Mounted Infantry to command, along with a promotion to the rank of major. The result was that my lovely daughter, Julia, spent her time helping the rest of us to prepare. Poor Bill was both ignored and chased out of almost everywhere as seven women prepared for the ball. Julia spent a lot of time with me, including time in the baby swimming pool referred to by some as the bathtub. When she finished and I got out, she insisted that I get dried off; drying in the sun was no longer an acceptable option, she insisted. But could she leave it at that? Not Julia! Do you know what that little bitch did? She was on her knees in front of me and insisted on opening my faucet! And you know what that does! And it didn't fail that time, either. She watched me gush for a moment and then started to lap up my cunt juice. "Mmm... Mommy, you're so deliciously sweet this evening, too!" Yeah. Thanks, kid. Standing up, she turned me around to face a full-length mirror on the wall. "Mother," she said softly, "you are utterly exquisite!" I looked, then looked again. I was utterly amazed. Of course I knew I was far thinner than I had ever been before in my life, but I hadn't really looked at myself before. My body was smooth and sleek with an all-over golden tan. Turning sideways, I could see one of my brands in deep relief on the side of my bun and in the full colors of the Essex coat of arms. Even my tit rings, which were really quite large, didn't look bad because of my overall size. I only hoped that first, Michael would attend, and second, if he did, that he would approve of my appearance. Would you believe it? Then Julia sat me down and began brushing my hair, what little there was of it. The brushing was interrupted by her nibbling on an earlobe. "Mommy, you have the daintiest little ears! And they're displayed perfectly by your very short hair. When it came time to dress, she had a light blue gown in a shade that complemented my eyes. John Carter had done a truly remarkable job with my shoes. They had two-inch heels but were the most comfortable pair of shoes I had ever owned. Clearly, Mr. Carter was going to be getting a lot more custom from me! The dress was cut with a neckline that dove below my navel, exposing my gold ring, and the skirt was really two pieces, a front and a back, only joined at the waist. When I asked Julia about wearing underwear in view of the way the dress was made, she informed me blithely that there would be none. What the hell, I thought, I've been naked for over three months so what difference does it make? My daughter, Kate, and the other girls were all wearing the same dress, but in white. The exception was Carla whose dress ended — would you believe it! — above her knees! But that was for the flamenco, Julia assured me. The Great Hall had been utterly transformed! Normally a rather dreary place, that night it was festive and bright. The orchestra was very good and was playing background music as we lined up in a receiving line. Kate was first, then Bill, then me. I was followed by Carla and then the princesses. Trying to be as objective as possible, I thought we looked rather good. Among the first people through the line were the Carters. "Susan!" Kate exclaimed, "it's so good of you to come tonight!" Then she surprised me. She turned Susan around and looked at the back of her neck and upper back. "I'm so happy for you!" Kate exclaimed. "When last I saw you, you had a deep whip cut that I was worried about." Then she stepped back, still holding both of Susan's hands in her own. "And your hair!" Kate gushed. Then she grinned and added, "Let's see... Did we wash it three times, or four? But look at it now! Golden perfection!" Susan was just standing there, utterly stunned. "But... Your Majesty, how could you possibly remember? I was just one of a bunch of dirty slaves." "Susan, as many beautiful women as we have here in Essex, you are in a class by yourself! Utterly exquisite!" Then she greeted John Carter with equal enthusiasm. The Carters' heads were still spinning when they reached me. "Your Majesty..." Susan began. When I arched an eyebrow and frowned, she began again. "Mattie, now you see why your daughter, Kate, is the best-loved queen in the world. That woman is utterly unreal!" "I hope you know that she was being very sincere," I replied. "And I am so happy you and John could attend tonight!" When Carla's Jim came through, he was greeted like a long-lost brother by both Kate and Bill. When Bill passed him on to me, he said, "Mother, this is James of Lancaster. Have you ever met?" "Not formally," I replied, "but I've had his lovely cock within inches of my face every night for months." Jim blushed beautifully but then said, "Mattie, Carla believes you're the most beautiful woman in the world. And you know what? I think she's right." Then it was my turn to blush. The other note of humor occurred a few minutes later when two princes came down the line. I was introduced to Prince Kevin and Prince William who I immediately recognized as the two men who had regularly been fucking Jillian and Andrea, our "twin" princesses. Both were five feet eight (the princes were both six feet three) with golden blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. The humor arose when they reached their lovers. Only then did we learn that William was Jillian's brother, and Kevin was Andy's. It was the funniest thing in the world. It turned out, of course, that each sister knew her brother was fucking her best friend, but neither had ever mentioned it to the other. Utterly hilarious! Then Bill said to me quietly, "Mother, I would like you to meet King Michael of Sussex. As I'm sure you know, Sussex is our firmest ally." My eyes widened as Mike towered over me. Slowly, I extended a hand and he gracefully bowed and kissed my fingertips. Rising again, the script changed. Michael took me in his arms and kissed me. Even though he had been fucking my brains out for weeks, it was the very first kiss we had ever exchanged. It was utterly perfect! I could feel myself melting in his arms as his tongue probed my mouth. Not to be outdone, I explored his as together we could feel the electricity flowing between us and hear the bells. My immediate thought was to leave Gustav and become Mike's mistress... and possibly his concubine. I was truly in heaven in his arms. When we finally eased apart, I realized that we were the focus of all eyes in the room. Given our size — Mike is six feet five to my five feet ten — that's really not hard for us to do. "How incredibly beautiful!" Carla murmured beside me. "You two are utterly perfect for each other!" The receiving line broke up and the dancing began. To my utter amazement, in spite of his great size, Mike was very light on his feet. For my part, it was the first time in my life I didn't feel like I was a bear trying to dance on its hind legs. Later, Kate said we looked very good together. It was the best evening of my entire life! And then it was time for supper. Doors were opened to an adjacent chamber where tables of various sizes had been set up. Mike escorted me in and, to my great surprise, went to a table for four where the Carters were already seated. Extending his hand to John he said, "Hi! I'm Mike. May we join you?" "But..." John stammered, "you're King Michael of Sussex, aren't you?" "Yes, I am," Mike agreed, "but may we join you? This is Queen Matilda of Slobovia." "But... we're commoners!" Susan protested. "You are citizens of Essex and the honored guests of King William and Queen Katherine. We are merely guests here, too... Although, I gather Mattie enjoys a higher position here than that." At that point a naked young woman came over. She was wearing just a tiny white hairpiece that maids wear. "Good evening," she said politely. "I'm Jane and I will be serving you this evening. May I bring you something from the bar while you're looking over the menu?" The girl was standing up straight and I recognized her as one of the girls who had been working on the roof months before, and, in fact, one of the girls I had been talking to at the softball game months before that. I guess I must have been staring at her nipples because she blushed. "Did I put on too much?" she asked. Then she explained, "I really thought my nipples looked too pale, so I put some rouge on them and on my pussy lips, too. Did I overdo it?" she asked again. The girl was young and truly lovely. She was in excellent physical condition and had golden brown hair, lovely green eyes, very tight buns, lovely legs and a shaved pussy. "Pull your shoulders back more," Susan Carter said quietly. "Let's see those breasts stand up firm and proud!" The girl instantly did what she had been told. "Now pinch your nipples lightly," Susan continued. "They're so nice and red! Let's see them stick out more." She did and then went off for our wine. When she returned, I noticed a bit of convexity in her lower belly and mentioned it. "Oh, no!" she said in dismay. "Don't tell me I'm showing already." "Not really, Jane," I said softly. Noticing her wedding band for the first time I said, "Congratulations to you and your husband. I hope you're both happy about it." "Charley is overjoyed, but I would have liked to have waited a bit. We're just starting out, and Charley's in the service now for six months' training." With a little grin she added, "It looks like Charley and the baby will come out about the same time." Mike had been pensive during this exchange and Jane was standing beside him. He asked, "Have you ever been to the Sign of the Golden Bear?" "No, sire, I have not," Jane replied, "but I'm certainly familiar with what goes on there," she added, rolling her eyes. "Ah, good!" Mike commented. "And the way the girls pick up tips... ?" The girl's eyes widened, "Martha, a good friend of mine, used to work there — now she's an owner! — and she told us how they picked up tips... with their pussies," she concluded dropping her voice at the last words. "Well, Jane, let's see what you can do," Mike said softly, holding a coin at the level of her cunt. Again the poor girl's eyes widened. I suppose I should have said or done something, but I was too absorbed by the action. Furthermore, looking around the hall it was apparent that a number of the waitresses were doing the same things already. And all were completely naked. She moved a bit closer to Mike and he gently shoved the coin into her twat. I also noticed that her eyes flared but she didn't jump when his finger teased her clit. Then her eyes widened. "But, sire, you've made a mistake!" "Mistake?" Mike asked. "What mistake?" "I'm sure you intended to give me a copper, or maybe a piece of silver, but this is gold!" "How can you tell?" he asked quietly. "Nothing transmits heat as efficiently as gold," she replied. "We learned that in school. And this coin warmed up in nothing flat!" "I have a question, Jane," I said. "Are you all required to work nude?" "Oh, no, Majesty! It's... it's just the money. You see, the Queen is very generous with us to start with, but we get time-and-a-half for working topless and double time for working naked." With a very cute little grin she added, "Looking around, it's pretty easy to see what greedy little bitches we are. Everybody's bare!" "There seems to be a connection with your pregnancy and working here. Is there?" "Yes, Majesty, there is. We can serve while we're pregnant as long as we're not showing. But when we start showing, we can only work in the kitchen." Then she giggled. "What's so funny?" I asked. "Well, there's only a 20 percent premium for working naked in the kitchen, but they're all naked, anyway. Even with the castle air conditioning, it gets awfully hot in there. But what's funny is to see some of the girls with real beach-ball bellies and with their very heavy tits resting on them." She giggled again and added, "A couple of them look like they're about to pop at any minute." Changing the subject, she said, "May I take your orders now?" Mike had just glanced at the menu card. He said, "I'll have whatever my companion is having," and just looked at me. I ordered a mixed seafood cocktail and the prime ribs of beef. "I've been smelling the marvelous odor of roasting beef all day." Then I added — I really don't know why — "It reminded me of the lovely smell when my buns were being branded. Of course, the executioner had to dump a bucket of water on each one to put out the flames; they both ignited." Susan suddenly looked noticeably ill. After the Carters ordered, Mike again slipped a coin into Jane's lovely puss. When she made a face — again he had brushed her clittie — I said, "If you weren't shaved down there, it wouldn't be so easy for Michael to find what he's looking for." "That's true, Your Majesty," Jane agreed, "but it's not nearly as nice when you're having your pussy eaten." With that comment she headed back toward the kitchen. Mike turned his attention to John Carter and began asking him about his shoemaking business. Both Carter and I were amazed at the detail in Mike's questions; clearly he knew something about it and wasn't merely making polite conversation. He particularly focused on his supplies: his raw materials for making shoes. They discussed everything from waxed thread to shoe nails, but finally Mike seemed to focus on leather. John admitted that he really wasn't happy with the local tanner. "There's only one here in Essex," he said, "and I really think he should have retired awhile ago. Frankly, I need higher quality than he can provide." "How wonderful!" Mike exclaimed. "As it happens, we have exactly the opposite problem in Sussex: We have some excellent tanners, but our leather users — shoemakers and saddlers, for example — aren't capable of the very fine work required to best use the quality of leather they have to work with. John, might you be interested in exploring a new source of supply? The styling and the quality of your work as exemplified by Mattie's shoes is superb!" Their discussion continued and finally Mike promised to send samples over for John's inspection. The Carters were utterly thrilled. It was the first time in their lives they had ever dined with royalty, but beyond that they might have found a solution to a very vexing business problem of their own. And, of course, the idea of a reigning monarch being both knowledgeable about and interested in their business was little short of astounding. The conversation then shifted. Mike said, "John, I know you met Susan when you were serving in the Queen's Own. Are you involved with the military at all now?" Indeed, John was. He was a staff sergeant in a reserve unit attached to the Queen's Own. "We're an augmentation unit," he explained. "In the event of mobilization, we're called up to expand the unit's ranks. Actually," he continued, "the active duty unit is now mostly cadre — career officers and NCOs — except for a single full-strength battalion. They're constantly training, and every year my unit goes off to train with them." "What about weapons?" Mike asked. "Oh, we have our basic weapons at home," John replied, "with the rest kept in the armory." "Good Lord!" Mike exclaimed. "Bill of Essex strikes again!" He shook his head, but not in denial; rather, it was a sign of respect. "He's doing something no other crowned head in Europe would dare to do!" he continued. "Just imagine! An armed citizenry! Any other king would be afraid — nearly certain, in fact — that the peasants — and that's how they're thought of — would use the weapons to overthrow their king." He grinned and added, "And you know what? I think they're probably correct, too." Then Mike started chuckling to himself, laughing at some private joke. Then he murmured, "Little do they know..." I didn't have the first clue what he was talking about, and looking at the puzzled expressions on the Carters' faces, they didn't either. "I'm sorry," Mike apologized, "but it's just too funny for words." Then he explained, "At the last meeting of the Reigning Monarchs — where Bill is now about as welcome as a skunk in church — the conversation was what to do about Bill and Essex. It seems that the very low tax rates you enjoy here are scandalizing the others. All the talk was about "harmonizing our rates." He shook his head and continued, "That's a Kennedy School euphemism for raising all tax rates to the highest prevailing level." Then looking at me he said, "And the highest prevailing level is now Slobovia's 80 percent." He continued, "Of course they don't have a clue at how much money you're collecting; all they can think about is that tax rate rather than tax collections. But they've about given up on being able to get Bill to bring Essex's rate up to theirs, so... military action. "This brings me to the conversation I was referring to when I said, 'Little do they know... ' All they could talk about was how small Essex's army is and how easy it would be to overrun the country." He grinned and added, "Of course, they were ignoring the way you people utterly wiped out the barbarians." Shaking his head, he continued, "You know, I really think you did too good a job. I think you should have allowed a few survivors to return west to tell the others just how tough the people of Essex really are." Mike looked thoughtful for a moment and then mused, "You know, that was a perfect example of the way people can underrate or totally ignore information that goes counter to their beliefs. They believe Essex is essentially undefended. Yet they also know — in several cases, from first-hand observation — how large and powerful the barbarian force was." He chuckled and interjected, "They knew damned well that if the barbarians had turned on them, their own forces would have been totally overwhelmed in the blink of an eye. "Yet even knowing the barbarian force's size and power, they've utterly ignored its complete destruction. The force was annihilated! Not a single survivor! Yet Essex is a plum, ripe to be plucked. Yeah, sure... "And that's another thing, and it goes to your daughters, Kate and Julia. It has been apparent to me for weeks that the people of Essex would freely offer their lives to defend their beloved king and queen. But now I learn that not only do they have the will, they have the means as well. "In a few hundred years, there will be a French emperor, Napoleon. At that time, the French will be more or less constantly at war with the Austrians to their east. Between France and Austria, there's a very small mountainous nation: Switzerland. But the mountain ranges, and the valleys between, run east-west. At any rate, there was a strategy discussion focused on how to attack the Austrians. One of his marshals pointed out that they could march through Switzerland and attack. 'Besides, Sire, ' he pointed out, 'Switzerland has no army. There's nothing to stop us.' "To this comment, Napoleon replied, 'You fool! Of course Switzerland has no army; it is an army!' The Swiss, like the people of Essex, are all armed and will fight to the death to defend their country." Looking at John and Susan Carter he added, "As would you!" I was so proud! John and Susan stiffened upright in their seats and with their eyes blazing replied in unison, "Of course!" Oh, Kate, what an utterly marvelous thing you've done. The people love you and will defend you to the death! Our dinner continued. The roast, served with Yorkshire pudding, was the finest beef I've ever tasted. When later I asked Ellie about it, she said it was Angus beef from Colorado. Yet another nation I've never heard of, but the food was divine. During the meal, Mike had taken advantage of every opportunity to slide another gold coin into Jane's vagina. It got to the point where I could almost hear her clinking as she moved. But she was an utterly beautiful woman, possibly even more lovely in the early stages of her pregnancy. "Now here's a real challenge for you," Mike said, holding out a small pouch of coins. From the sound, they were gold. "No..." Jane squeaked. "Please, no..." "Saving for a house, I think you said?" Mike mused. The girl spread her thighs and lowered herself over the pouch. While she was taking it inside — and softly moaning as she did — she murmured, "Michael of Sussex, you are a real bastard! Just look what you've done to me!" She had taken the pouch completely into her vagina and it was easy to see the flow of her cuntal juices down the inside of her deeply tanned thighs. "When my husband, Charley, comes looking for you later with blood in his eye, you should know it's all your own damned fault!" "And what's that mean?" Mike asked with a very innocent expression on his face, but with his eyes dancing with merriment. "That means that he comes home from the army shot to shit, really needing his sleep. But he's not going to get any tonight! As soon as I get home, he's going to be raped!" With that she stuck out the tip of her little pink tongue. Then she added, "But thank you, Susan Carter." "For what could you possibly be thanking me?" Susan asked. "For telling me how to stand and how to thrust out my tits. Queen Kate saw me and she was so pleased, she ordered the chamberlain to pay me a bonus tonight. She said I was utterly perfect!" We had all risen to leave by this time. Susan took Jane into her arms and gave her a truly passionate kiss. "Oh, sweetie!" she exclaimed, "that's so wonderful." Then with a giggle she added, "And since that's gold I hear clinking inside you, you're carrying enough to buy a new home, too!" Jane's eyes widened. Although she knew she was receiving gold, the value of it hadn't registered. "You two seem to know each other," I commented. "I used to babysit for Susan when I was in school," Jane said. Then to Susan she asked, "How are the little imps, anyway." Then while gently caressing her abdomen she said, "This is your fault, too, Susan Carter." "How could that be my fault?" "Your children are so utterly perfect, it caused me to want to see if Charley and I could possibly do as well." "Did you hear that, John Carter?" Susan asked, lightly hitting his biceps. "And it's all because of my luscious golden eggs... and some pretty nice sperm from you, too, I guess." We returned to the dance to find it was time for Carla's flamenco. She and Jim took their starting positions at the center of the dance floor. Then to our amazement, Carla stripped off her top — only then did I learn that what appeared to be a dress was in fact two separate pieces — and was bare to the waist. Then she attached something to each of her nipple rings. They were not her tit bells, but I didn't know what they were. We soon learned. As the dance developed and Carla used her castanets, I realized that subtle movements of her torso were causing the things on her nipples to sound like castanets, too. Remarkable! The two moved faster and faster until their feet were mere blurs. By this time Carla's body was slick with her sweat. She surprised us again. Stripping off her skirt, she flipped it to the edge of the floor. Now she was wearing only her white dancing shoes and a tiny white thong that barely covered her slit. The utter perfection of her body evoked sounds of awe from the spectators. Their dance crescendoed and stopped with Carla in Jim's arms. They kissed passionately; then Jim picked Carla up and threw her over his shoulder. While holding her legs with Carla apparently struggling, he marched off in the direction of her suite. He seemed to need no directions. For her part, while Carla seemed to be struggling, she was behind his back waving and blowing kisses to the crowd as she was carried off. ------- Chapter 33 The dance finally ended and I took Mike by the hand to my suite. The fact that he was going to spend the night with me was a foregone conclusion, at least as far as I was concerned. But when we entered, I received a surprise. Mike wanted to take a shower. "I've heard so much about these things since I've been here in Essex," he said. "I thought I should see what they are." So we did. And that was a big mistake... on my part. I was flooding the place with my cuntal flow! But did that sway Mike? Hell, no! He just said that the drain looked like it could cope with the additional fluid. He just wanted to caress my body all over. And he did. He took my soap and spent what seemed to be an hour fondling each tit, and about the same amount of time on each branded bun. I was going to work on him, too, but that proved to be impossible. It was all I could do to stand there in the shower and moan. And squeal. And cry. "Please, Mike! For God's sake, just fuck me. I don't care where or how or what opening you choose, but fuck me somewhere... Right now!" And you know what that got me? "Patience, Mattie. All in good time." Finally, he shut off the shower. He was going to fuck me! Wrong! Instead he put me on the massage table and began to work on me with musk oil. "Mmm..." he murmured as he worked on my shoulders and upper back. "You're so beautifully muscular. And your buns... ! Simply perfect." His hands had moved south by then, as you've probably already guessed. I was dying! Honest to God, I was being killed. His touch was so wonderful on my body, it just increased my excitement. And it increased it from a level I thought was impossible to attain, let alone increase further. But he did. Finally, it was over. Effortlessly he lifted me off the table and carried me to the bed. "I'm going to get fucked!" I exulted. Hah! He started kissing my ears, my nose, my neck... Finally, he got to my lips. It was a kiss like no other in my life. We could have powered the whole nation of Essex for a month with the electricity we released. Then he moved down. He kissed my pierced nipples and played with my rings with his lips and teeth. Again, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Then Mike began to eat my cunt. Oh, Lord! It was utterly incredible. He was using my clit and labial rings to torture me. It felt so good, but at the same time made me want him to do so much more. Unreal! "So sweet..." he murmured. But then he finally moved up and whispered, "Spread your thighs and raise your legs." As you may remember, I used to hold my upper leg vertically every morning for Carla to have her breakfast, so that wasn't a problem. I spread my thighs and had my toes pointing straight up to the ceiling. I would like to say that Mike just eased into my sopping cunt. I really would, but there's a limit even to my lying. With my legs waving in the air, he started to put me on his cock the way he would put on a glove. I was moving my hips to assist, but I may have been hindering more than helping. But it felt so incredibly good! Deeper and deeper he went. I could feel every lovely millimeter of his cock. It was almost as if he was using my vagina to make a cast of his magnificent cock. I finally stopped trying to help and just concentrated on keeping my legs high and spread wide. Never had I felt such a thing nor had I even dreamed that it could be possible. Finally I felt his pelvis meet mine. He was in to his full length. Then he kissed me. I thought our earlier kisses were the ultimate, but boy, was I ever wrong! With him penetrated to the depths of my being while he kissed me and lifted my torso up to meet his, I was in Heaven. But it just got better! He had me put my legs over his shoulders — that was a relief! — and began slowly to move in and out. At that instant I would have done absolutely anything Mike asked of me. It was glorious! He took me to a crest and I spurted. Down a bit, then up to an even higher crest. I should have lost consciousness due to the sensory overload, but I did not. I'm sure I was screaming at the top of my lungs, but I have no idea what I might have said, or, indeed, whether I was even screaming words. Higher and higher I went until finally Mike exploded inside me. I was gone. Awhile later — minutes or hours, I have no idea — I found myself lying in bed with Mike beside me just gently caressing my tit. "How was it, my darling?" he whispered. "Heaven!" I replied as I snuggled even closer to his body. I took a cigarette he offered and we had a marvelous after-fuck smoke. While we were lying together he told me about his late wife, Mary. It seemed that she was a small woman who loved him madly. The problem was she was not physically able to cope with his size, but she refused to give up or even to reduce the frequency of their lovemaking. Then she became pregnant and ultimately gave birth to their son, Steven. That was a problem, too. Steven was a very large baby and his birth tore up her insides pretty badly, or so Michael thought, at least. In the last stages of her pregnancy, she really had a beach-ball belly. It seemed to be at least triple its normal girth. The result was that their lovemaking was unavoidably curtailed for the last months. That being the case, Mary could hardly wait to deliver so again she could take Mike inside her. And just a few days after the delivery, she did. It was too much and way too soon. "She achieved a mammoth orgasm," Mike whispered, "and screamed, 'My darling!' Those were her last words. She went limp in my arms. But she wasn't unconscious, she was dead. But..." "But what?" I asked softly. "She had the happiest smile I've ever seen on a woman's face," he said quietly. "She went the way she wanted to go, Mike. She was in your arms and you had just thrilled her with your love." There were tears in my eyes as I said it. Changing the subject, I said, "Let me be your mistress, Mike. Please?" There was no response. "I will be your mistress, your concubine, your pony... I will be anything you want me to be if only you'll let me stay with you." My words were spilling over themselves as I spoke. "I can take you, Mike. It's not easy, I admit, but I can do it with no ill effects. Michael of Sussex, you and I were made for each other, and the kisses we've exchanged prove it." Instead of replying, Mike took me again. Since I was still stretched, his entry was much easier the second time. It was glorious! And it continued all night long! One or the other of us would move just a bit, awaken the other, and off we went again. I don't know what time it was when I finally awakened the next morning. I reached over and found not Mike, but a warm area of the bed where he had so recently been. At that point I opened my eyes thinking he was in the bathroom. Instead, I found a note lying on his pillow. "My dearest Mattie," it said. "Goodbye, my darling. I will love you forever!" It was signed, Mike. The note was written in beautiful calligraphy, not that I either knew or cared. I was destroyed. ------- Chapter 34 The next days were nothing but a blur. I never left my room and seldom even left my bed. I just stayed there and cried. And cried. And cried. While I was in that condition, a lot had been going on. Bill had wasted no time in arranging for the annulment of Carla's marriage. It seems that while King Carlos of Aragon had a lot of money and made a generous contribution to the Church, Bill had a great deal more, and used it. Moreover, much of Carlos's money had been borrowed from the Fuggers. And guess who was bankrolling the Fuggers? Kate had to do something with her extra money. The annulment came by return messenger. The result was that Carla and James of Lancaster were wed. I did not attend, but Carla came to me in her wedding gown. She was simply exquisite. I tried to control my tears long enough to tell her that. I don't know if I succeeded, but I'm sure she understood. "It will all work out, Mattie," she assured me. "I just know it will." Then she added, "I'm already expecting Jim's baby. Isn't that neat?" "My darling, it couldn't happen to a nicer couple," I replied. Jillian and Andrea also married Kevin and Bill. As I think I mentioned before, King Bill had solved a problem that merged Kevin and Bill's two kingdoms. And having a double wedding in Essex solved another problem, although both sets of parents were a bit pissed off I heard. And even the last two Cum Sluts married their princes, too. Mattie — me — was the only one left out. During that time, meals were brought to my room and Kate and Julia were regular visitors. So you know how bad it was? It was so bad that one of my daughters had to stay and feed me, if you can believe it. They quickly learned that if they merely left a tray of food, hours later it would still be sitting wherever they had placed it, untouched. I guess the two young women really did save my life. Time passed. I really didn't know how much time. I cried and I slept. If I was fed, I would eat. But then I found I couldn't sleep; I wasn't tired enough. That problem was addressed, if not solved, by the addition of an infernal exercise machine. I kept increasing the weight loadings and the number of reps in hopes of wearing myself out. It worked... sort of. The problem was that with my strengthening muscles, it required more and faster reps to achieve the same level of exhaustion. And then one day Kate left a book in my room. When I couldn't sleep, I began to read. Greek, Latin, English... it made no difference. I went through them all. Then one day Julia knocked on the door. That was rare enough; usually she just barged right in. But that wasn't the only difference. She didn't enter after knocking; she just waited. A bit puzzled, I called out, "Come in!" Instead of coming in, though, she just peered around the door. "Mom," she exclaimed, "guess what?" In no mood for guessing games I replied petulantly, "What?" "Bill's home! Finally! Would you like to meet him?" For the first time in weeks — months? — I had an interest. I was about to meet this paragon of male perfection, William Morrison. "Of course, darling," I replied. "Bring him in." And she did. And I was naked, as usual. Morrison entered my suite and I was stunned speechless. He was my son, Wilhelm! Rising from my bed I moved toward him like a zombie. "Bill?" I asked in a quavering voice. If I was stunned, Bill was in far worse shape. While I could make sounds that were almost like words, he couldn't even do that. His mouth just repeatedly opened and closed like a fish out of water. But finally he was able to gasp, "Mo... moth... mother... mother!" By that time he was in my arms or I was in his, or whatever. We kissed. It was the most perfect kiss of my life. I was kissing my beloved son. Finally we eased apart. Bill looked at me and his eyes widened. "Mother!" he exclaimed, "what happened to you? Never in your life have you looked so beautiful." But then he slowly shook his head and said, "But those rings you have all over your body... They look like the size one would have through a bull's nose." "Mom," Julia interjected, "I have a set of gold rings in sizes that would look better... I hope." Then to Bill she said, "Want to have some fun?" "Huh?" was Bill's oh-so-intelligent reply. "Lick your mother's pussy," she said. "What?" he screamed. "Lick your mother's pussy," Julia repeated in her most-reasonable tone of voice. "You'll find she's incredibly sweet." She paused and then continued, "Sweeter than I am, I think, but I'm not really sure, of course." "But she's my mother!" Bill protested. "And she's my mother, too," Julia responded, "but so what?" Then she giggled and added, "You'll find something really different, too. That ring she has through her clitoral hood works just like a faucet! Just touch it or lick it or do anything to it and she flows like a river. It's like a faucet. It's just so neat!" Only then did it truly register in my mind. I was standing there naked with my feet spread to open my cunt in front of my own son! I should have been as pale as a ghost and weak as a kitten due to all the time I had spent closeted by myself in my suite. But I wasn't. I already mentioned the exercising I had been doing in the hopes of exhausting myself to be able to sleep. And, as I said, that backfired: if anything, I was stronger than I had ever been. Beyond that, though, the exercise room had batteries of lights — someone said they were ultraviolet, whatever the hell that is — that kept me warm. In fact, that's really what I thought they were for. But it turned out they had solar tanning properties. So as I stood there, my body was an all-over gold and my golden blonde hair had been bleached to a much lighter shade. Bill went down on his knees and was about to begin work on me when I stopped him. "Excuse me!" I protested. "Are you — and my daughter, for that matter — properly dressed for eating a woman's cunt?" "Huh... ?" he said looking puzzled. (Like mother, like son. What an oh-so-intelligent-sounding response that was!) Julia just giggled. "She means that we need to strip, too." They did. The two young people — Julia was 17 by this time and Bill was 19 — were the most handsome couple I had ever seen. When they were both bare, Julia went into Bill's arms and they kissed. Wow! You've heard it before, but it was true: Those two could have powered the kingdom for months with the power their kisses released. But at the same time, they fit together so perfectly! It was like the final pieces of a jigsaw puzzle (whatever the hell that might be) fitting together. As tall and as perfectly muscled as Julia was, she fit perfectly within the breadth of Bill's shoulders. When she tipped her head up, her lips were perfectly positioned to meet his. And while they kissed, Bill's hands were roaming over Julia's perfect body, finally coming to rest on her lovely little buns. He squeezed and she just wriggled even closer to mash her body against his. "If you don't mind," I commented acerbically, "I'm getting cold just standing here..." When the two eased apart, both pairs of eyes were glassy. Bill shook his head to try to clear his vision and then started to drop to his knees. Before he could, though, Julia stopped him. "Just look, Mommy!" she exclaimed. "Have you ever seen a more beautifully tanned cock? Isn't it gorgeous?" Indeed it was... and is. "I'll have to get Mike's like that..." I began. Then thinking about what I was about to say, I broke down in tears... again. Julia just nodded to Bill who dropped to his knees. Almost against my will, I spread my thighs to welcome his tongue. But then it registered in my feeble brain what I was doing. "I can't do this!" I screamed. "Bill's my son!" "And I'm your daughter, and I go down on you whenever you'll let me," Julia interjected. "What's the big deal?" "But he's my son!" I wailed. Julia just rolled her eyes. In the meantime, my son was teasing my clit ring. And you know what that caused. Heaven knows, I've told you often enough. I gushed. I flowed like a river. And I came... And came... and came. How I managed to stay on my feet, I'll never know. My pelvis was shaking my body to pieces. And now, instead of just my cuntal juices, Bill was lapping up my cum cream. Moving his mouth away from my cunt for a moment, he said to Julia, "She just gets sweeter and sweeter. What's going on?" "I don't think Mom has allowed herself to cum since she was with Mike," she replied. "So what you were getting first was getting a bit stale. But now... It's so nice and fresh... And very sweet, too, I bet." Finally it was over. I just collapsed on my bed gasping for air. My two children just stood there looking down at their poor mother. Recovering enough to speak, I finally said, "Okay, Julia, it's your turn. Let me see you take that lovely cock in your mouth." "But mother... !" she protested. "Now you look here, young lady!" I responded. "I happen to know that you've taken Bill in front of at least half the young people in this kingdom! That being the case, you can certainly do it here in the privacy of your own mother's apartment!" "But... !" "But nothing!" I ordered. "Just do it! Now!" And she did. Dropping to her knees, she took Bill's massive cock and just let it slide down her throat. With it in her to its root, she still somehow managed to lick his balls. And only then did I realize that Bill was shaved, too! The girl was so lovely and so good! While as a slave my wrists had been secured to the back of my neck so that I could only use my mouth, Julia just had her hands clasped behind her head and was doing the same thing. Actually, I realized, it was harder for her than it had been for me. I couldn't move my hands, but she could. She just used her willpower not to. I could see her cheeks compress as she sucked on his cock while she moved it slowly in long strokes until it almost popped from her mouth, but then slowly let it slide in until it was again lodged deep in her throat. Bill was gasping by this time, and it was apparent that even with his great control, he was losing it. At that point Julia eased back until only the tip of his cock was in her mouth. I could then see her swallowing quickly as he exploded in her mouth. Finally it was over. Both Julia and Bill flopped on my bed beside me and just hugged. But then I saw that they were locked in a passionate kiss and Julia was transferring the remains of Bill's cum to his mouth. Then the two just cuddled. It was beautiful. When the three of us recovered, I gathered some pillows and we just rested. I was on Bill's right and Julia was on his left as we had post-orgasm cigarettes. "Why did you leave home, my darling son?" I finally asked. "Because..." "Because, why?" I persisted. Bill lifted himself off the pillow and just looked at me. "Because I had come to hate my own father!" he said defiantly. "... my own father," I thought. And suddenly it was like a door opening to a closet locked deep in my brain. Slowly I just shook my head. Then I jerked up in bed as if I had been stung by a wasp. "My God... !" I whispered. "What is it, Mother?" Julia asked, very concerned. While slowly shaking my head I said softly, "You mean Gustav, don't you?" Bill was puzzled. "Of course I do! Who else could I possibly mean?" "Your father," I whispered. "What's that mean?" "It means that I really don't think Gus is your father." Sitting up in the bed, I piled a couple of pillows against my back and with my eyes closed started to reminisce. "I was barely 16 when I married Gus," I said softly. "Not only was I a virgin, I knew absolutely nothing about marriage or sex." Then thinking about Jean Baker I added, "I had seen women raped, but I never really connected what I was seeing to marriage. "Anyway," I continued, "as I think about it, I don't think Gus and I ever had sex. In fact, from what I've heard, I now have to wonder if he's even capable of it. At any rate, we had only been married for a couple of weeks when there was a visitor to the court, a prince. Gus told me I was to entertain him and do anything for him... Anything at all, he stressed. The prince was from a nation that bordered Slobovia to the south, and good relations with that kingdom were vital." I began to weep. "The kingdom was Sussex. My bedmate was Prince Michael of Sussex." Looking into Bill's eyes I said, "Bill, I'm certain now that your father was Prince — now King — Michael of Sussex!" Bill and Julia were utterly stunned. "Just think about it," I continued, speaking slowly. What I had just said was truly news to me, too. It had happened nearly 20 years earlier, and clearly I had walled the whole series of events off in my brain. For some reason, Bill's comment about coming to hate his own father had smashed down the wall. "I'm five feet ten," I continued, "while Gus is five feet four. On the other hand, Michael is six feet five. Now look at you! You are the image of your father, Michael, although not quite as tall." Then I began to weep. It was uncontrolled and uncontrollable by this time. Bill took me in his strong arms and just held me while I cried. Finally, he lifted my head and kissed me. It was loving and very powerful. And at that instant, I knew for certain that he was the son of Michael of Sussex and me. His kiss was so much like his father's, missing only the incredible level of passion his father's kisses contained. He just held me tightly until I ran out of tears. Finally I regained enough control to speak again. "As I think about it, my hedonism really developed after I was married to Gus, and he encouraged it. And now I know why. I did essentially what he was doing: mostly I watched while others had sex." "Well, what now?" Julia finally asked. Wiping my eyes I said, "That's easy. You and Bill — and, by the way, you're now William, not Wilhelm — are going to get married as soon as possible." Reaching for the phone by the bedside, I punched a number. When Kate answered, I ordered, "Get your trim little ass in here. Right now!" "Yes, Mother," she squeaked and ended the connection. Moments later, there was a single knock on the door and Kate burst into the room. "Who died?" she asked. Kate's comment had the effect of breaking the tension that had been steadily building in the room. I laughed for possibly the first time in months. "Nobody died," I responded, "but Julia is marrying my son, Bill, at the earliest possible opportunity. Clear? And I'm thinking days, not weeks or months." Among the three of us, we then filled Kate in on what we had just learned about each other. To my surprise, it didn't seem to come as news to her. When I finally asked her about it, she replied, "Mother, the difference between us is that I knew Bill; you did not. When I looked at Mike, the first thing I noticed was how closely Bill resembled him. And, of course, I've been aware for years of how different you are from Gustav." She grinned and added, "You were speaking of an upcoming activity: a wedding, perhaps?" And so it went. We finally set a date six weeks ahead. Both Kate and King Bill insisted that it was as fast as possible given the need to invite crowned heads and the travel time involved for them to attend. I even ensured that an invitation was sent to Gustav. After all, the least I could do was to invite him to his own son's wedding. The fact that Julia was Crown Princess of Essex made the location easy. There was never any question of having the ceremony in Slobovia. The day finally came, and Julia was the most beautiful bride in the history of the world. I state this as an objective truth. The fact that I am her mother could not have colored my opinion in the slightest. There was one thing I did note. A number of local gifts arrived with notes to the bride and groom written in calligraphy that was identical to Michael's note to me (which I continued to treasure, by the way). I asked about it and learned that there was a woman in town noted for the beauty of her handwriting. She had actually built a small business writing notes and cards for others. Michael of Sussex did not attend, but he did send a beautiful pair of gifts. They were the most beautiful black leather saddles I had ever seen. His accompanying note — written in the same hand — said that they had been made of the finest Sussex leather by the finest saddler in Essex. The saddles were less than half the weight of the lightest saddles I had ever seen before. Perhaps there was a bit of collusion here, too. King Bill presented the young couple with Satan and Satana, the horses he and Kate loved so much. More than anything else, that was truly a gift from the heart. Knowing they were going away for months on their honeymoon, the young couple cheated. They put the brand new saddles on their lovely mounts before the wedding! And off they rode. I really must say that it was a sight to see. There was a handsome couple who were madly in love on a pair of mounts... who were also madly in love, if you can believe such a thing. The four had an utterly marvelous time together, with the horses flying like the wind. Not only did their riders — their new master and mistress — love the new saddles, the horses did, too. When they returned and were feeding apples to their mounts, the two reported it was the finest day of riding they had ever had. The wedding was simply gorgeous! The bishop presided personally, and, it seemed, the entire population of Essex was in attendance. It was followed by a reception to which all the citizenry had been invited. Truly a magnificent day. When the bishop finally pronounced Bill and Julia as man and wife, I thought the cheers from the people were going to take the roof right off the cathedral. But, as you know, both Julia and Bill were truly loved by the people of Essex. The young couple wasted no time. Rather than spend their wedding night in the castle, they departed on a four-month honeymoon. They were replicating what Bill and Kate had done: They had taken sharp knives, some line and some hooks and were off on Satan and Satana to that island, wherever the hell it might be. And I stayed on in Essex. ------- Chapter 35 Julia and Bill's wedding had another effect. It finally got me out of my shell and back into the world. Not an altogether bad thing. While they were gone, two things of note occurred in Essex: finding The Angel and Tax Day. Do you remember the Wallace family? That was the one Kate and Bill rescued when they were out riding one day. (See Chapter 11.) That was also when they found the young Susan Hastings, Duchess of the North. Well, you may remember that while Kate and Bill were caring for the family, Satan and Satana were playing in a pasture. Well, it seems that the reason the land was pasture was that it wasn't good for anything else. In fact, it could barely grow grass, and not much of that. At any rate, one day little Angel Martin and her alter ego, Kenny Smith, were out walking. They came to the Wallace farm and wandered up onto the treeless meadow. There they just lazed in the sun and talked about their future together. Although little Angel was only five, she and Ken were far more mature than that and so were their plans. While they were just lying in the sun, Angel was idly playing with the grass. For some reason she pulled on a clump and it came out of the ground easily. The little girl was startled and looked at it. On the bottom of the clump, something gleamed in the sunlight. Changing position, she looked down to where the clump had been and saw gold. Borrowing a pocketknife from Ken, she dug into the soft metal and put some in her pocket. That evening when her father returned home, she showed him what she had found. John Martin took one look at it and whistled softly. The next morning, rather than going to work, he went out to the Wallace farm with Angel. Then, with Peter Wallace, the group trooped out on the meadow to where Angel and Ken had been the day before. Both Martin and Wallace had brought picks and shovels with them. Carefully they started to dig. What they found was unbelievable. It seemed that where Angel had been idly playing was the very highest point of what proved to be an utterly gigantic formation of pure gold. As the men dug, the gold mountain just grew. It turned out that the peak was quite shallow, so that even ten feet away from Angel's spot, the gold was still less than a foot beneath the surface. The men just used their picks in the very soft metal and broke off several large pieces. Although they were not yet certain, from the extremely heavy weight of the pieces they held, it was clear that the material was extraordinarily dense... like pure gold. They marched back to town and then to the castle. There they presented their find to Kate and Bill. And to me. Tests were performed and they confirmed what Martin and Wallace had suspected: They had found a mountain of pure gold. Then the fun began. First, they insisted on giving 20% of the mine to the kingdom. Angel herself was given 5%, and another 25% was given to the kingdom in trust. The idea was that pieces of this share could be awarded to especially deserving individuals who had made, or might in the future make, major contributions to the nation. Finally, the Martins and the Wallaces split the remaining 50% between them. The humorous element to this was that the two families were already rich with just the gold they had carried with them to the castle, but the mountain of gold still sat there, essentially untouched. And you know what Kate did? She cried! Honest to God, she cried! Why? Poor Kate! She went into Bill's strong arms and began crying her eyes out. At first I thought it was an act — a big joke — but I was quickly disabused of that notion. No. Her problem as she described it to Bill between sobs was, "What am I going to do now? Our tax rate is already down to 2%. It really can't go any lower than that. It's important for the citizens to feel that they're supporting their nation. But what am I going to do with all this money?" Trust Kate. She came up with something. (You know, I never cease to be amazed at my beautiful daughter's brilliance sometimes. Yet she insists she's just a slave. Yeah, right... ) What was her answer? You've heard of the Medicis of Florence and Venice? The Fuggers of Austria? They're supposed to have invented banking. It seems that they were given gold to hold in safekeeping for its owners, which they did for a fee. Then they discovered something interesting. Even though the gold was being held "on demand", i.e., the owner could get all or any part of it at any time, and the gold kept pouring out to meet the demands, they still had amassed a pile of gold that just stayed with them. Withdrawals were pretty well matched by deposits. So, after swallowing hard, they began to lend some of that pile of money at interest. And banking was born. But did you ever wonder where the first gold came from? Or wonder if there might be a backup plan in the event more people than expected wanted their money at the same time? The answer to both questions is Katherine of Essex, who had already given some of the kingdom's excess cash to the Fuggers. (At Bill's insistence, she used her formal name in business transactions like this one.) So while the Medicis were lending to city-states all over Italy, and the Fuggers were financing nations, e.g., Spain, Kate was financing them. Although William of Essex — and the nation of Essex — were the pariahs of Europe, most of the money the monarchs were borrowing — for example, to build more vitally-needed turrets on their castles — came from Essex. She had never done it, but Kate could have settled a lot of international disputes merely by ordering that certain demand loans be called for immediate repayment. It would have been so neat, too. And it certainly would have gotten the attention of the affected rulers. Oh, well... Earlier I noted that the second interesting occurrence in Essex was Tax Day. Now it was quite common — the rule, really — for tax collections to be handled by troops. And often these "collections" took place in the middle of the night with troops surrounding a house and battering down the door. That was felt to be a more reliable way of determining if the kingdom was getting its "fair share". And, as I have pointed out earlier, the "fair share" in a nation like Slobovia was 80%. In Essex, though, it worked differently. Early one morning in the late spring I was rudely awakened by my daughter, Kate. There I was, sleeping soundly, and all snug in my luscious bed when the covers were unceremoniously yanked off me and off the bed. From being as snug as a bug, I was freezing. Sympathy from my daughter? Hah! "Come on, Mommy!" she exclaimed loudly. "It's time to eat and go collect taxes." If you think that I was still more than half asleep and my mind was working at quarter speed (at best), you would be right. So I just lay there naked on my bed, vainly reaching around to try to recover my covers. No such luck. They were on the floor by that time. She then hauled me out of bed and into a freezing cold shower. That did have the effect of waking me up. Painfully! Still stumbling around, I went back to my room to find that Kate had yet another pair of Levi's short-shorts for me. But these were a bit different from the ones I had worn in the past. First of all, these were practically new. I mean... they had probably been made during my lifetime. Second, they had been cut out on the sides to fully reveal my brands. Oh, well... Kate even sat me down in front of my dressing table and began working on my hair. I previously mentioned that, as a pony, we all had crew cuts. But enough time had passed that my hair had grown out somewhat. I ended up with a wavy hairdo that ended in a duck's tail in the back. It really looked sort of neat, I guess. Anyway, after eating, we marched into town. Under her arm Kate carried some rolled-up poster board and a list. I had no idea what was going on. In town, she first went to the Sign of the Golden Bear and borrowed a couple of tables and two chairs. (The men from the Queen's Own, detailed to the tavern that morning, carried them out and positioned them for us.) So there I am, standing in the town square, utterly bewildered (as usual). Kate? She's unrolling the poster board and tacking the signs — that's what they were — to the front of the tables. The signs said, "Pay your taxes here." Then there were two others, one saying, "A to L" while the other said, "M to Z." (I got the back end of the alphabet.) We sat down behind the tables. Only then did I become aware of lines forming in front of the tables. Furthermore, additional tables were being set up next to ours by Hortense and two other young women from the Golden Bear. While they were bare to the waist — well below the waist; they were only wearing thongs — they were happily unconcerned. They were working under the direction of the two owner-managers, Martha Cooper and Susan Hodges, setting up tables with food and drink. Because of the seriousness of Tax Day, they were only offering coffee for the grown-ups and milk for the children; later they added soft cider. I asked one of the waitresses about working essentially naked outdoors. She giggled and replied, "This is my camouflage. People focus so much on my tits, they never see me. When I'm dressed, I just disappear. No one ever thinks of me as being one of the girls at the Golden Bear." And in truth, the young woman had a perfect figure and totally unblemished skin. "There's another thing," she added. "This way the soldiers can be certain that we're not being abused in any way." Oh, well... Oh, yes... I should have mentioned it before, but the entire spread was being offered free to those waiting to pay their taxes or those who had already done so. Later, this led to more fun. Poor Martha and Susan! When they came to my table to pay the taxes on the Sign of the Golden Bear, from the next table Kate reduced their taxes by about 90% to cover the cost of the free food and drink being dispensed. The two lovely women — both nursing their infants by this time — protested that it was their gift to the people of Essex. But Kate was unswayed. Since it was Tax Day, it was an official event and hence the kingdom was going to pay for refreshments. Have you ever tried to win an argument with a stone? If you ever tried, you would have been more successful than those two young women were when trying to get Kate to take more of their money. Finally they stormed off vowing to get even, somehow. Near the front of the line were the Carters. In addition to John and Susan, they had their two children, Jill and Jimmy, with them. Moreover, there was a new addition. When they reached Kate's table, the infant began to fuss so Susan bared one of her luscious tits to feed her child. Have you ever seen it to fail? I never have. Seeing the infant, Kate jumped up from her chair, rushed around the table and just gazed at the beautiful baby. "This is our youngest, Maj... Kate," Susan said. "What's her name?" Kate asked, seeing the baby's pink bonnet. "She hasn't been named yet, Kate," Susan replied, "but we were hoping you would allow us to name her Katherine, after you." "Provided you call her Kate," she replied, "I would be deeply honored." Then with her eyes wide she asked, "Could I hold her?" By this time the infant had finished lunch — breakfast? — and was waving her tiny hand. Kate took the child and held her close. I could see her whispering something and then, even though it was an overcast day, a ray of sunshine came down on the infant's forehead. Instantly, her face was transformed with a beatific smile, and then with a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and slept. Her mother watched this with increasing amazement. Taking the baby from Kate's arms she asked, "What did you do?" "I... I... I just asked the Lord to make his light to shine upon her..." Kate stammered. "And He did!" Susan exclaimed, wide-eyed. "Does Baby Katherine have godparents?" Kate inquired. "Not yet," was the reply. "John and I wanted to ask you about the name first." "Would you consider..." Kate began. Then she started again, "Would you allow... ?" Susan's eyes widened. She wasn't certain what Kate was about to say, but clearly she had a suspicion. "Allow what?" she asked. "Allow Bill and me to be Katherine's godparents?" Kate replied in a rush of words. Then she blushed crimson. Can you believe it? The Queen of Essex was embarrassed to ask a citizen if she could be her infant's godmother. "Your Majesty, nothing could possibly please us more!" Susan replied. The girl was so stunned by Kate's offer, she even forgot her preferred — mandated! — form of address. "It's settled then!" Kate said with a warm smile. "Just tell us where and when." Then reaching beneath the table she brought up a sack of gold coins. (I could tell they were gold from the sound.) "This is just a very small token for our beautiful goddaughter on the occasion of her birth." The purse contained enough gold to comprise an excellent income for anyone in Essex for at least 10 years! But then it was my turn. Looking up, I found Jane, the waitress at dinner in the castle and the girl I had first met at the softball game. With her was a young giant, and in her arms was another infant. As she held her child, she was utterly gorgeous. I then learned that she was Jane Simpson with her husband, Charley. He held the infant — gingerly — while Jane took a slip of paper from her purse. On it was a statement of her income. By far the largest amount was the gold Mike had given her so many months earlier. It was carefully totaled, and she began to count out an amount equal to 2%. "Whoops! Stop!" I ordered. "This information is not correct." Jane's eyes widened in shock. "What did I forget? I thought I put everything down," she said as tears came to her lovely eyes. "It's not what you forgot," I replied, "it's what you included." Pointing to her entry for Mike's gold I said, "This is a gift; it is not income." Only then did I notice that she had also included the award for her posture and bearing that Kate had given her. "And this is an award; it's not income, either." "But... but... I was working!" Jane protested. (Can you imagine? She wanted to give me more tax money and I didn't want to take it. What is the world coming to?) "Gift, award, no tax!" I insisted, folding my arms. "Now why don't you just re-figure your tax with those items excluded." Then turning to Charley, I said softly, "Would you feel better if I held the baby?" It was funny, really. Here is this young giant with hands so big I think he could have held the infant in one of them, but he was trembling with fear. Men! But he came around the table and let me take the baby from his arms. The child, only a week or two old, was beautiful nonetheless. I cradled it close to my breast and the infant actually snuggled. Then I whispered, "May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He make His light to shine upon you. And may He watch over you and keep you safe from all harm until after a long and fruitful life you join Him in Heaven, forever." Again there was a ray of sunshine right on the baby's forehead, and again there was a beatific smile on the infant's face as she closed her eyes and slept. Kate had seen the whole thing, so I stuck out the tip of my tongue in my daughter's direction. She frowned, or tried to. Instead, though, she smiled warmly. "What did you do?" Jane asked softly but with her eyes wide. Obviously, she had seen the whole thing, too. "Nothing. Honest!" I replied. "I just... I just asked God for his blessing on your beautiful little girl." "And He heard you... And He did it! He blessed our little girl!" Turning toward the giant beside her she exclaimed, "Charley, can you believe it? God has blessed our baby!" "What's her name?" I asked. "We would like to name her Mattie, after you, Your Majesty," Jane said softly. "But I'm not sure if there's a Saint Mattie — yet — so maybe Mattie Ann? But we would just call her Mattie." Instead of replying, I just held out a hand in Kate's direction. Without a word being said, she reached under the table and brought up another sack of gold. She passed it to me with the tip of her tongue stuck out. (Imagine! Sticking her tongue out at her own mother! The nerve of some people's children!) "For Mattie's birthday," I said, passing the heavy purse to Jane. Then I asked, "Godparents?" Jane and Charley just shook their heads. "I would be honored to be Mattie's godmother," I said, "and I know King Michael of Sussex would be delighted to be her godfather." The Simpsons' eyes just widened. Then she said softly, "Would it be all right to name her Mattie Michelle?" Then she smiled warmly and added, "That sounds so nice, too, don't you think?" So now I'm Mattie Michelle Simpson's godmother. And Mike sent over another pouch of gold and more leatherwork made from Sussex leather with Essex workmanship. But that afternoon the Simpson's just floated home. The last episode on Tax Day involved Kate again. An elderly woman came up to her table to pay her taxes. Her name was Maude Adams and she was a widow. Her husband and her two sons had all been killed fighting for the prior king, and her two daughters had sold themselves into slavery long before to raise money for her taxes. They were never heard from again. The woman brought out a piece of paper on which was recorded the sale of bread and cookies over the previous year. She had calculated 2% of the total value and had come up with a few coppers. My eyes are very sharp, and I could see from where I was sitting that while all of Mrs. Adams' sales were recorded, no costs had been subtracted. She was proposing to pay her tax on her gross receipts. Later I learned that Kate had known of Maude Adams and had wanted to help her, but had been unable to figure out how to do it. One thing was both clear and emphatic: The woman flatly refused to accept charity in any form. After carefully counting out the coppers, Kate thanked the woman for her citizenship. Then she rose to her feet to address the assembled crowd. "Citizens of Essex!" she proclaimed. "It is my pleasure to announce this year's Taxpayer of the Year Award! This year's recipient is Maude Adams!" With that she presented the woman with a sack of gold. It was classic Kate! In making the announcement, one would think that Taxpayer of the Year was a routine award in Essex. Well, it became so, but that was the very first time. Absolutely no notice was given to this fact, however. Instead, I went to Kate and whispered in her ear. Kate's eyes widened, and then she grinned. "The Queen of Slobovia — my mother — has announced an addition to the award. She learned that Mrs. Adams' house needs some repairs. Well, a battalion of Royal Engineers will begin renovation work on the Adams house starting in one hour. Until the work is complete, Mrs. Adams will be the guest of King Bill and me at our apartment in the castle!" There were heartfelt cheers from all the onlookers. Clearly, the Adams story was widely known in the kingdom. For her part, Maude just began to cry. In an instant, Kate was around the table to take the woman into her arms. Then she kissed her. Although I could tell she was modulating the power of her kiss, it was still too much for the frail, elderly woman. She lost consciousness in Kate's arms. Needless to say, this didn't cause Kate any problem. I doubt if the poor woman weighed even 100 pounds. When she regained consciousness, though, her eyes were gleaming with love. Moving out of Kate's arms she addressed the crowd. Although small, she had a remarkably powerful voice. "People of Essex!" she cried. "What have we ever done to deserve this? All I can say is, God save the Queen!" Just an instant later there was a thunderous echo, "God save the Queen!" As we ran back to the castle — yes, dammit, ran, while Maude rode in a royal carriage — what is my darling daughter doing? Why, she's crying of course. "And what is it this time?" I puffed. "Did you see how much money we collected?" Kate asked. She spoke as if she was at her dinner table, while I was gasping for breath in spite of having served as a pony. "About eight cartloads, I think," I replied. "So what?" "So what?" she nearly screamed. "Last year there were five loads and it took me and the girls six weeks to count the damned stuff!" "So don't count it," I gasped. "What?" she screamed. And she really did scream that time. "Just weigh it," I puffed. "After all, we did separate the copper, silver and gold into different sacks." "But that's not accurate!" she protested. "Why... We could be off by a dozen pieces of gold... Or even more!" "So what?" I repeated. "But... but... but..." she just sputtered. "Katherine of Essex," I gasped, "I hope I didn't raise an anal retentive! Who gives a damn if you're off by hundreds of pieces of gold. Does it matter?" "Mother, you're terrible!" she replied. But we ended up just weighing the sacks. That took us only a couple of hours the next day. And that was Tax Day in Essex. The next three weeks were truly remarkable at the palace. Poor Maude Adams was in a near-constant state of shock. It began when we arrived back at the castle and found Maude waiting for us in a royal carriage. We then whisked her up to the royal apartment. There, to her great embarrassment, she was stripped of her clothing and ushered into the shower. Kate and I both worked on the tiny woman. This was followed by a sauna, the cold (near-freezing) pool, and then a bath. Both Kate and I were there to lift the woman from the pool. Once in the bath, I sat on a step and rested her head on my lap while Kate worked on her body. She was painfully thin, but incredibly, her tits, though very small, were still perfectly shaped. Lying on my lap, the woman just moaned and sighed as Kate worked musk oil into her skin. It just seemed to come alive under Kate's touch. The bath was followed by a massage that really evoked moans and groans. Finally, Maude said quietly, "Why don't you take my muscles out and work on them on a bench? It couldn't hurt any more if you did." When she was lying on her back and more than half asleep, Kate and I shaved her groin completely. The hair there was a very yucky gray and it was all over her lower body. (But honest! We really did ask her before we shaved her, and I distinctly heard her say, "Unh..." That means "yes", don't you agree?) With the woman essentially out of it, I carried her into Kate's room and set her on the stool in front of the dressing table. Kate retrieved an old sheet that she spread on the floor around the stool, and then with me holding Maude up, Kate cut her hair and styled it. It was finally over, and Kate carried her to the bed, laid her down on it and covered her up. I'm certain the woman was sound asleep while still being held in Kate's arms. Bill was off somewhere that night — observing army maneuvers, I think — so we were alone in the apartment. Kate decided on a simple meal... for her: veal scallopini Marsala with fettuccini Alfredo. (That last is practically no-cal... unless you eat it, of course.) Because of our guest, we were actually wearing robes. Of course, they ended high on our thighs, but what the hell... We didn't want to embarrass our guest. Kate went to the bedroom to retrieve Maude when the dinner was ready. The two came back together with Maude wearing a similar robe. She savored Kate's meal. Never in her life had she eaten food like that. While eating, though, Maude's eyes kept roaming around the kitchen and then back and forth between Kate and me. Finally she said, "You two are usually naked, aren't you?" Kate and I exchanged looks and then we just nodded. "Well... ?" "Well, what?" I asked. "Why are you dressed now if you're normally naked?" Maude asked. Then, improbably, she grinned girlishly. It was so damned cute! Then she added, "I mean... Really! Two reigning queens in the presence of a commoner — a very common commoner, I might add — afraid to behave in their normal manner? Utterly ridiculous!" Then glaring at both of us she ordered, "Now strip!" Both Kate and I jumped at her words. It was really funny as hell. A commoner giving orders to two queens! But we immediately did. Since all we were wearing were the terry robes, it was a cinch. Maude just looked back and forth at the two of us. Then she reached out and gently touched one of my nipple rings. (My rings were by then the smaller, lighter ones that Julia had had with her.) "Does it hurt?" she asked softly. "Not at all," I replied. "It feels good. It makes me tingle all over, in fact." Then Kate just had to go and wreck it. The three of us were sitting at a round kitchen table. "Mom, slide back so Maude can see your pussy," she said. And like a fool, I did. "Want to see something funny?" Kate asked Maude. "Take the top pair of labial rings and spread them." Maude did, and that fully exposed my clit ring that had been partially buried in the folds of my labia. "Now twist her clit ring," Kate asked, "and see what happens." "Katherine!" I exclaimed. "I'm going to fix you for this." "I'm sure you will, Mother," Kate replied blandly. Then to Maude she said, "Try it." The woman did. And the usual happened. I began to gush... again! Fortunately, the chair seat was covered in vinyl (whatever the hell that is) which is waterproof. For my part, I just leaned back in the chair, arched my back and moaned as my vaginal fluid flowed in a small flood. "Taste it, Maude," Kate suggested. "See what you think." Again the woman did. "Mmm..." she enthused. "It's so sweet!" "Not nearly as sweet or as good as her cum cream, but it is pretty nice," Kate agreed. Finally it was over. Then Maude shrugged off her own robe and pulled her shoulders back forcing her tits up and out. She was really pretty flat, but her tits — small as they were — were beautifully shaped. She just looked at us and waited. "Pretty good... for an old woman," Kate commented. All that produced was Maude pulling her shoulders back even farther and sticking out the tip of her pink tongue. That night, with Bill away observing maneuvers, the three of us shared Kate's bed. Lovely! ------- Chapter 36 The next morning we began what became the rehabilitation of Maude Adams. It was both exciting and funny. First of all, the work that Kate had done on her hair alone the evening before had changed her appearance remarkably. Before the new styling, she had always worn her hair in a rather ugly bun. Now cut short, it proved to have beautiful natural body and waves. Remarkably, her face was quite youthful. Then Kate saw her squinting. That didn't last ten minutes. Off Kate went with Maude in tow to the ophthalmologist. In a matter of moments, the magic laser had restored — transformed? — her eyesight to 20/20. When she returned and I looked at her eyes, I realized they were an utterly gorgeous hazel. Maude next encountered the exercise machines... to Kate's great embarrassment. (That couldn't happen to a nicer girl, either.) Somehow, Kate had gotten wind of a new machine model. It was similar to the ones she had, but with a couple of very significant differences. First, it was computer-controlled. (What's a computer?) Second, it had a system of rewards and punishments. It had two spring-loaded cylinders on the saddle set at angles to each other so that when they were fully extended, their two ends almost touched. Maude just looked at it. And she was as naked as we were. Without a word to either of us, she sat on the machine's saddle which compressed the two cylinders flush with the surface of the saddle. She found the on/off switch on the handlebar and flipped it on. The machine came to life. The first thing it did was to automatically find her vagina and her asshole. Then the two probes slowly moved up inside the woman's body. Her eyes widened. "It's... it's probing into my asshole!" she exclaimed. Then she amazed us both by exclaiming, "How neat!" The sequence of looks on her face as she felt her body penetrated were truly a sight to see. Finally, the machine appeared happy with the position of the two probes and a green light began to flash. "Uh, oh..." Kate whispered. "Here goes nothing..." Maude began to move the unit. As she exerted more force and went faster, it produced a lovely fucking sensation in both her cunt and her asshole. But if she slowed below a level the machine considered appropriate, she began to receive a series of increasingly painful shocks. Oh, yeah... One other thing. The machine was wired in to a series of UV lights. Not only were they above her, they were all around so the rays reached almost her entire body. (It was funny as hell! The lights reached everywhere, except where her butt contacted the saddle. A few weeks later, Kate and I had an hilarious time trying to take care of the white spot shaped like the saddle on her bottom.) Faster and faster the woman moved the machine. Where the muscles were that she was using I had no idea. (Later, I found out that the machine had made initial adjustments for her size and strength and just increased its resistance over time.) But move the machine she did. Finally, after a herculean effort, she just collapsed over the machine. But Kate and I could both see her cum cream flooding the saddle; the machine had taken her — or she had taken herself — to a massive orgasm. At that point, the UV lights went off and the machine shut down. Neither Kate nor I had said a word the whole time. We had just been standing there watching in amazement. It was then I learned that the machine had just been set up; Maude was the first person ever to use it. She was collapsed, gasping for breath, over the handlebars. Finally, she raised her head and asked, "What was that?" "That, dear Maude, was an orgasm," Kate replied. "Did you like it?" "Like it?" Maude nearly screamed. "I loved it!" But then her eyebrows beetled and she added, "But I thought... I mean... Only men have orgasms, don't they?" So Kate and I explained some of the physiological and psychological facts of life to the older woman (and mother of four!). That morning was the beginning of a love affair between Maude and her wonderful machine. She rode it at least twice a day, every day. By this time, of course, Bill had returned. The only thing Maude did was to look at herself in a mirror and decided that she wasn't so ugly that she would upset Bill's stomach at meals. She continued to be naked. She ate and she exercised. Kate taught her how to swim, and I taught her how to read. (Can you believe it? Me? Teaching anyone to do anything? But honest, I did.) And Kate also taught her how to use the marvelous kitchen. Hers was going to be essentially a duplicate. Between all the exercise and the big meals, Maude's transformation was remarkable. It was as if there was a beautiful woman there who had been shrunk. All she was doing was filling out what had always been there. Whether, in fact, her beautiful body had ever truly been there, I never found out. Nor did I ever really care. Sometime along the way, we found out that she was only 41 years old, in spite of originally appearing to be over 70. It seems that she had been married at 15 and had her first son at 16. It was incredible how much had happened in her life while she was really quite young. After about four weeks, Maude had blossomed into a real beauty. Incredibly, her tits, now filled out, were a solid — and I mean solid — B-cup. Moreover, she easily passed the pencil test. The fact was that her tits were so firm and upthrust that I couldn't even get them to hold a pencil for an instant. Finally, it was time for clothing. Kate gathered her clothiers together in the apartment and gave them careful instructions while they measured everything about Maude. Needless to say, the poor woman had no input whatsoever into her wardrobe. Then we heard that her house had been completed. Everything had come together perfectly. Kate and I had even managed to get rid of the white spot on her bottom by that time. To celebrate, Kate arranged for Ellie to prepare a formal dinner for us in the apartment. Bill was ordered to wear his blue velvet doublet, and was forbidden to wear his codpiece. When Maude saw him, do you think she was shocked? Hah! She went up to him and gently groped him. "Mmm..." she murmured. "No wonder Kate always looks so happy and so... satisfied." Kate? The bitch just licked her lips and nodded her head rapidly up and down. As for Maude, Kate and I had spent hours preparing her for the dinner. After her afternoon exercise — and orgasm — we took her into the shower, then the sauna, then the bath, and finally the massage table. The woman was by then incredibly beautiful! Then Kate worked on her hair and her eyes. Finally she slipped a strapless white gown over Maude's head and smoothed it down. Aside from white stockings and white pumps, it was all she was allowed to wear. When she joined us and groped Bill, he took her in his arms and kissed her. I could see her working her lips and her tongue on him while love just flowed between them. When they eased apart, Maude said softly, "Kate, you are the luckiest woman in the world! To have the love of this man, and the love you share is utterly wonderful. No wonder the citizens of Essex have it so good! We are ruled by a king and queen who share a limitless love that flows over everybody in the kingdom." She paused and stood up as straight as she could. "Long live the King and Queen!" she proclaimed. The dinner was fabulous. After coffee, cognac and cigars we left the table. Kate and Bill retired to their bedroom and Maude and I returned to my suite. (We had been living together ever since that first night.) That night, we slept locked together in each other's arms. It was just so neat! The next day it was time for the great unveiling. But instead of walking, we rode in a royal carriage to Maude's house. Because Maude and I had been inseparable from the beginning, I had not seen the place, but Kate had. In fact, Kate had been visiting the site regularly to look over the construction and to handle decorating questions. Alighting from the carriage, we just stood there and gazed. Standing beside the door was the major commanding the engineer battalion that had done the work, along with his top sergeant. They just stood there waiting for Maude's reaction. She just stood there, looking at her home. What she didn't know was that it was brand new. The façade replicated the old one, but that was about all. First of all, the houses that formerly stood on each side of hers had been abandoned months or years before. The properties had been acquired and now Maude's house was larger than its former lot. While her former home had an earthen floor, the new one had a full basement. It was roughly triple the size of the original. Major Hill, the commanding officer of the engineer battalion, introduced Sergeant Edward Macaulay and said that Macaulay would show them around. "He supervised every aspect of the construction and did all the finish carpentry himself," Hill noted. The first thing I noticed was the utterly magnificent pegged-oak flooring. It was simply perfect. Never had I seen such a tight and smooth fit at both the sides and the ends of the planks. And it was absolutely flat, too; the boards didn't curl up on the sides as wide boards so often do. There was a beautiful hooked rug in the living room centered on the fireplace, but a lot of the bare wood floor showed. And it had been finished in the warmest of golden tones. Our tour of the house continued. I remembered Hill's comment that Ed Macaulay had done all the finish carpentry himself. It was utterly perfect. Not a single nailhead showed, even on naturally-finished trim. Amazing. The tour ended in the kitchen. As promised, it was a duplicate of Kate's and Maude adored it. Then she surprised us all. Turning to Macaulay she asked, "Why, Ed?" "Why, what?" he stammered. "Why did you do it? I can feel the love that you put into every bit of this work. Why?" Macaulay was a large man, standing a bit less than six feet tall, but built like a rock. He had light brown hair and blue eyes. And he was dumbstruck. All he could do was slowly to shake his head. Maude went to him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Almost involuntarily, Macaulay put his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly against his body while their kiss continued. When he did, I could see Maude writhing her body against his, and we could see the electricity between them and hear the bells. When they eased apart, Maude's eyes were glistening in wonder. "What are your plans now, Ed?" she asked. "Retire," he answered in a single word. Then Hill explained that Sergeant Macaulay had been scheduled for retirement weeks earlier, but had stayed on to complete the Adams house. Maude took Macaulay's hand and pulled him toward the stairway. "Come on, Edward," she said, "it's time to try out the bed." Then to Kate she declared, "Our wedding will be on Saturday. See to the arrangements, will you?" And off she went, pulling Macaulay up the stairs behind her. Neither Kate nor I were able to control our giggles. Maude had casually given orders to her reigning queen to arrange the wedding details. From the sounds floating down the stairs, it was apparent that Maude was not concerned about closing doors. We heard, "Do you like my body, Ed? Is it good enough for you?" That evoked a wordless but enthusiastically affirmative response. "Oh, what a simply perfect cock!" Maude exclaimed. "Now let me see if I can remember how to do this. Mattie gave me very detailed directions, and she'll be really pissed if I forget anything." I don't think she did forget anything. There were still no words from Ed, only grunts of sexual activity. "Oh, that was delicious!" Maude finally exclaimed. She paused and I heard — or imagined I heard — "It does taste a bit... stale." But then she happily continued, "But that won't last long. Soon it will be so wonderfully nice and fresh..." Bed noises came next. Then again from Maude, "Let me put it in for you, darling. Mmm... Right there... ! So good... !" At that point King Bill told Major Hill, "Consider Sergeant Macaulay to be retired, effective immediately, Major." Then to Kate he grinned and said, "And you have to make arrangements for a wedding." He looked at me, then at Kate, then back to me. "Your mother will be the matron of honor and I shall be the best man. You, slave, will be responsible for the arrangements." "Yes, master," Kate said softly. Then she ruined it all by giggling. That wasn't the end of the Maude Adams/Ed Macaulay story, it was only the beginning. They were married the following Saturday and spent the next two weeks at Maude's home... with a big sign on the front door that read, "Honeymoon. Do Not Disturb". (And, I will have you know, using the foresight for which I have long been famous, I had ensured that the food freezer, refrigerator and cupboards were fully stocked with food. It wouldn't do for the two of them to starve to death while on their honeymoon.) When they completed their honeymoon — Maude's eyes were glazed and she was bowlegged by that time — in addition to having cookies for any child wandering by, she started to offer baking classes for young women. Starting that year, her Christmas cookies were small works of art. They caused real problems, too. The cookies were so beautiful, a great many of them ended as tree ornaments, but on the other hand, they were without a doubt the best butter cookies I've ever tasted in my life. Thus the dilemma: to gaze or to eat? (Needless to say, I bought more than a few myself, requiring additional hours on the exercise machine and spurts of my cum cream all over the room.) While Maude was teaching the girls to bake, Ed had set up a workshop in the basement and started instructing the boys in the finer points of woodworking. Although they didn't have any living children of their own, the Macaulay place was constantly overrun with them. In Essex, they soon became every child's Aunt Maude and Uncle Ed. Kate was also having a problem at this time. Her problem? Getting rid of money. With a full assortment of roads and bridges, public works was no longer a viable option. This left the palace parties. Initially, there were two a year. This had grown to four and finally to twelve, but Kate felt — and I had to agree — that any greater frequency would be seen as an imposition on the people. So she settled at twelve. While the winter parties were palace galas, the summer parties became elaborate picnics. And here, too, the Macaulays played a part. A feature of the picnics was athletic competitions. Normally, whether it was softball, horseshoe pitching, or whatever, husbands and wives were on the same team. Not Maude and Ed. They always competed fiercely against one another. But it always ended the same way: After the match the couple would adjourn to a secluded — or not-so-secluded — spot and Ed would fuck Maude's brains out. And the fiercer the prior competition, the more intense would be the subsequent lovemaking. Since, as I just said, often their lovemaking was in a not-very-secluded spot, I got to watch it. Ed's cock was massive and he would enter Maude the same way Mike always entered me: He put her on his cock a millimeter at a time. And when it ended, the two would just wander back to wherever with their clothes over their shoulders, Ed's arm around Maude's shoulders, and cum dripping from Maude's still-stretched pussy. Did her leaking vagina bother Maude? Not the least little bit. Since Bill and Julia still had not returned — would we ever see them again? — Ed and Maude also took over their sex ed instruction at the high school. They did all the same things that Bill and Julia had done with the addition of providing fucking demonstrations. The two of them together were physically marvelous! Maude's hair had gone white by this time, but was worn in a very youthful-looking short style. Then with her perfect tan and youthful appearance, the contrast was remarkable. Her body was that of a 20-year-old. For his part, Ed was massively muscled and also tanned all over. (Girls, don't you just adore being fucked with a tanned cock?) Moreover, Maude had shaved all of Ed's body hair, too. Fantastic! The culmination came at Christmas. Adding to Maude's designation as Taxpayer of the Year, a selection committee had chosen Maude and Ed as Essex's Citizens of the Year. Ed made a very short acceptance speech with Maude standing in front of him. His arms were around her and he was fondling her body all over. Maude? She was just standing there with her eyes closed making lovely contented sounds as he squeezed her tits and teased her clit. ------- Chapter 37 Julia and Bill were present at that Christmas gala. They had finally returned home late in the fall. And their return was something else, indeed. It was an unseasonably warm late fall day on the Saturday they arrived back in Essex. And being a Saturday, and Essex being as prosperous as it was, the streets were crowded with shoppers when two black horses appeared. There were Julia and Bill on Satana and Satan. The couple looked simply marvelous! Both had deep tropic tans, and Julia's blonde hair had been sun-bleached close to white. It was so lovely! Julia was on the right with Bill to her left. The couple wanted to be close, and they were because Satan and Satana wanted to be close, too. Those two horses were something else! They didn't walk, they pranced with their necks arched proudly. But that wasn't all. Just behind and slightly to the side of the two beautiful horses were two of the most beautiful colts anyone had ever seen. Clearly, they were Satana's foals; the filly was behind and to the right of Satan, while the colt held a similar position with his mother. The truly remarkable thing was that neither of the colts was secured in any way; they didn't even have halters. But they too were prancing along with their necks arched, marching down the center of the main street. As the people became aware of the little procession — who could not have been? — cheers rose up. Here was their beloved Princess Julia and Prince William, the hero of the barbarian siege, back from their honeymoon. It was just so great! When they reached the castle, Kate, Bill and I were at the palace steps to greet them. Bill jumped down and then caught Julia in her arms as she jumped, too. At that instant, I realized that, like Kate and Bill, Julia and my Bill had become a single person. The love shared by those two was palpable. And while this was going on, the four horses were standing proudly and as still as statues. They were magnificent! When the five of us started back into the palace, young Bill ordered grooms to remove the tack from Satan and Satana. As they started, I realized for the first time that neither of the two big horses had bits. But they didn't need them. With the tack removed, the two parents led their offspring to their private pasture. Open a gate? What for? The two just jumped the fence and the colts followed. Possibly the only domesticated horses in the world who took care of themselves. Oh, well... Once back in the royal apartment, our reunion truly was joyous. It must have taken almost half an hour to complete the round of everyone kissing and hugging everyone else. Utterly wonderful! ------- It was late in March of the following year that the news reached us: King Gustav IV of Slobovia — my husband — was dead! That news was followed by a flurry of activity. First, both Bills, Kate, Julia and I had a council of war. Several things were decided, the first at my insistence: the Kingdom of Slobovia had come to an end; from now on, it would be the Kingdom of Wessex. At that point, we were all surprised when Julia revealed artistic talent that no one — including, I'm almost certain, Julia herself — knew that she had. She immediately began to sketch out a coat of arms for the newly-renamed kingdom. Second, young Bill left to alert his battalion to be ready to travel within two weeks, and ordered his engineer company, organic to his battalion, to leave immediately to prepare housing for us in Wessex for when we arrived. Frankly, I couldn't bear the thought of having to spend so much as a single night in the palace of horrors that was Slobovia Castle. With that settled, I thought about the future and murmured, "Oh, shit!" "And what was that all about?" Kate inquired. "That's about money is what 'oh, shit' is all about," I replied. "More specifically, the lack of same. Let's face it, daughter: We both now know that you have been absolutely correct and those geniuses from the Kennedy School have been totally wrong. The way to increase tax collections is to cut tax rates." "So what's the problem?" Kate asked with just the hint of a grin on her lovely face. "The problem, my darling daughter, is that I have no money at all, and I'm virtually certain that Wessex has none, either." "Mother dear, you are the answer to a maiden's prayer..." She paused and mused, "After having my brains fucked out for hours every day for years now, do I still rate as a maiden, I wonder? Oh, well..." With a lovely grin she continued her original line of thought. "Mom, what is Essex's biggest financial problem?" I slowly shook my head and said, "I really wasn't aware that Essex had one." "Oh, yes we do! And you know we do. We're being buried under a mountain of money is the problem. And, my dearest mother, you can help us with our problem. You can take a few cartloads of gold back to Wessex with you." Being the kind, considerate mother I've always been, I took pity on my suffering daughter and agreed to take some of her money off her hands. The engineers left immediately for Wessex and we had intended to follow as soon as we could organize the move. But that was not to be. Everything we did seemed to be like wading in molasses. Of course, the feeling was heightened because of Gus's death and the fear that Slobovia — now Wessex — was spinning out of control. It was almost four weeks later when finally we were ready to leave. Bill's battalion of mounted infantry was formed up with one company in the lead and two companies following the royal party. (Wow! "The royal party"! Sounds impressive as hell, doesn't it?) Bill and Julia were mounted on Satan and Satana. Their two colts, now named Imp and Cherub, were left with Bill and Kate. Believe it or not, they found a handsome chestnut stallion for me to ride, too. He had a lovely new saddle, too, but his was in natural tan, while Satan and Satana had the magnificent black saddles Mike had given them for their wedding. Can you imagine? A pony riding a horse? But that's what I was doing. Oh, yeah... There was none of that side-saddle shit, either. Both Julia and I wore Levi's along with Wellington boots. Believe it or not, we actually wore new chambray shirts with the tails tied beneath our tits. (Of course, the term "new" is relative; by that I mean the shirts had been made during my lifetime.) It was a clear bright spring day as we moved out of the castle, rode through town and then out into the countryside. It was only then that I realized the degree to which I had isolated myself from everything around me. Signs of life — both natural and economic — were all around me. Wild flowers were blooming in the fields while farm families were engaged in their spring plowing. Wherever we went, we were greeted with waves, cheers and general good wishes. Indeed, it was a lovely day to be alive. This continued until we came to the border with Slobovia, now Wessex. The contrast across an imaginary line (actually, the border was a small river) was incredible. Wessex was destitute! Moreover, as we moved along — on terribly maintained roads — it was clear that the peasants didn't know what to make of us. Admittedly, the mounted infantry were a splendid sight. The interval between the ranks and files was exact and precisely maintained whether we were walking our horses or cantering. Although I wasn't recognized — my appearance had changed far too much since I was last in the country — I was soon identified as Queen Matilda. All I can say is thank God for the Queen's Own! If looks could kill, I would have been dead within a quarter of a mile of where I was first identified. And the word traveled faster than we did. It just got worse. Clearly, in their eyes, I was the most-hated individual alive on the face of the earth. And you know what? From what I learned later, I fully deserved that title. Finally after several days of travel, we neared the town of Wessex, formerly Slobovia. In spite of the troops doing everything humanly possible to make our overnight stops as pleasant as they could, both Julia and I were ready for a shower and a bed. Our troops led the way into the town and then on to the main square. There large numbers of people had gathered, waiting. We soon learned what it was they were waiting for: executions. A platform or stage had been hammered together in the center of the square. There were six positions there for a person to put his head while awaiting the headsman's ax. Along with the headsman and a group of dignitaries there were six naked young women chained together. Clearly, they were the guests of honor at the day's upcoming festivities. As we dismounted, Julia took several long steel rods from her saddlebags. Together, Bill, Julia and I mounted the steps to the platform. We were regarded with wonder. Clearly, no one present knew who we were. On the other hand, we were obviously important, witness the full battalion of mounted infantry accompanying us, although Bill immediately took two companies and rode out. The remaining troopers dismounted and took up positions around the square. As they did, I realized that there were a large number of Slobovian (Wessexian) troops present already. The contrast between the two groups was like night and day. The Queen's Own looked like what they were: a well-trained, well-disciplined fighting force. On the other hand, the Wessexian troops looked like what they were, too: a bunch of thugs. "I am Matilda, Queen of Slobovia," I announced. Then I waited while some engineers set up a portable sound system so I could speak to the crowd. They were good and they were very fast. Moments later, a microphone was put in place and I repeated my initial statement. I continued, "People of Slobovia, I have two announcements to make: "First, effective immediately, the name of this kingdom is changed. It is now the Kingdom of Wessex. "Second, with me — although not right now — is my son, William. He will be the next king of Wessex. With me is my daughter, the new Crown Princess Julia, who will become your queen. However, since Prince William will not attain the age of 21 for nearly two more years, until that time I shall serve as Queen Regent of Wessex. "Are there any questions or objections?" I asked. I waited while there was nothing but silence from the crowd. Finally, I continued, "Hearing none, we will proceed." Turning to the group of well-dressed men standing on the platform I asked, "And who might you gentlemen be, and what is the reason for this gathering?" "I am Sir Sidney," one of them replied, stepping forward. Then proudly he announced, "I am the First Minister of the Kingdom." "And the reason for this gathering... ?" I prompted. "To execute these sluts, of course," he replied. "And their crime?" "The crime of fornication!" he proudly declared. "Fornication with whom?" I persisted. "Why... with the late king, of course," he replied, stating what was to him at least, the obvious. "And they're underage! All of them!" he continued triumphantly. "Oh, I see..." I mused. "The late king had sex with these underage women, so they must die. Is that what I heard?" "Of course!" "And the witnesses to this?" I asked. "Witnesses? What witnesses?" Sir Sidney responded. "The witnesses to their fornication," I explained. "But... but... but there were none," he sputtered. "Oh... I see," I said thoughtfully. (At least I thought I sounded thoughtful.) "We are executing these young women for a capital crime that no one can even be sure ever was committed. Hmm..." Again I paused. "And then, of course, we have the small matter of having sex with underage young women. Do we punish the perpetrator? Of course not. He's dead. Instead we punish his victims." I paused to let that sink in a bit. "My, what strange things pass for justice in this kingdom." Then with my eyes blazing, I added, "They are to be freed!" "But, Your Majesty," Sir Sidney protested, "we must have an execution! We can't disappoint our citizens. They took the whole day off from work to come and see it." "Oh..." I commented thoughtfully. Then I continued, "By the way, Sidney, you and your colleagues are out of jobs, effective at once. Over the last few days I have traveled the breadth of our nation and find conditions to be disgraceful. This government is dismissed!" "But, Majesty, we were promised..." he began, but then ran down. "Promised what?" "King Gustav IV promised us we would be elevated to the peerage if we would stay on as ministers. We did, so..." I thought for a moment and then allowed myself a broad grin. (I suspect it was a bit wolfish, but no matter.) "Capital!" I declared. "I will elevate you to the peerage! And then I will have you beheaded for malfeasance and misfeasance in office." Then with a lovely smile (at least I thought it was; Sir Sidney might have had a different opinion) I continued, "This will allow us to kill two birds with one stone. You will have your peerages, and the people will have their executions." Then I frowned and said, "Oops! I am afraid that that was a rather infelicitous aphorism, wasn't it?" Sir Sidney and his colleagues turned gray. "Well, Sir Sidney," I inquired, "which is it to be? A peerage and... ?" I looked pointedly at the headman's blocks. "Or your immediate resignations?" For some reason, they all elected to resign. When we first mounted the platform, Julia had given whatever it was she had taken from her saddlebags to the headsman. He had a brazier burning and had stuck the objects in it to heat. But now Julia came forward and went to the microphone. "People of Wessex," she declared, "I have four announcements to make: "First of all, effective immediately, the tax rate in Wessex will be reduced to 5%. "Second, because of the oppressive weight of taxation in this kingdom over the last few years, there will be a tax holiday this year. No taxes will be collected, and any taxes already paid will be refunded. "Third, we shall begin immediately to buy the young women of this nation out of the slavery into which they had to sell themselves to help you get the money to pay those oppressive taxes. My loving husband, Crown Prince William, has already left with two companies of mounted infantry to begin the process; and "Fourth, also effective immediately, the armed forces of the former Kingdom of Slobovia are to be paid off and disbanded. "Are there any questions?" she concluded. Her announcements had been greeted by a stunned silence. Julia stood there proudly and waited. Then she stripped off her shirt, shoved her Levi's down over her hips and stepped out of her boots. Nodding to the executioner, she knelt down with her buttocks in the air and rested her neck on the block. Then she waited. Only then did I realize what it was Julia had given the man. They were branding irons. "Stop it!" I commanded. "Julia, what are you doing?" I demanded. She raised her head and looked at me with her blue eyes blazing. "Mother, I must!" she declared and then lowered her head back to its former position. I looked for support from Bill, but only then did I remember that he had already left with two companies of troops to begin the repatriation of the female slaves. Julia shifted her weight to fully expose her right flank and waited. The executioner took a branding iron from the brazier and put it in position. Smoke started to rise from Julia's flank, but all that happened was that the girl's back arched as she absorbed the agonizing pain that I still remembered so well. Slowly she tapped her right hand on the plank as her body was seared. At the fifth tap, the executioner raised the branding iron and his assistant poured water over Julia's now blazing ass. All Julia did was to take several deep breaths and then rearranged her body to expose her left side. "Do take care to ensure that it's in the same relative position as the one on the right, won't you?" she said to the executioner. "Yes, Your Highness, I certainly will," he assured her. Taking another iron from the fire, he applied it to Julia's body. Again her back arched, but she didn't make a sound. Again she tapped out the time, and again the executioner's assistant had to extinguish the fire on her flank when the iron was removed. After taking several deep breaths, Julia rose from the block, turned to the executioner and said, "Thank you, sir. That was a perfect job." Then moving stiffly — how she could move at all, I don't know — she went to the mike and announced, "I am now a Wessexian! I will carry the Arms of Wessex on my body for the rest of my life. I am a Wessexian!" she repeated proudly. Then the executioner did something that amazed us all. He went to the mike — although he had no idea what it was — and shouted, "Three cheers for Crown Princess Julia! Hip, hip..." The crowd cheered, "Hooray!" Unbelievable! Then it was repeated twice more. While this was going on, the executioner's assistant had been removing the fetters from the young women on the platform. When the cheering subsided, the oldest of the girls moved into the position Julia had just vacated. She knelt there with her ass high and waited. "What are you doing?" Julia demanded when she realized what had been going on. "We are preparing to serve you, Your Majesty," the girl replied. Then to the executioner, she ordered, "Do it! I'm waiting." The executioner did. And, like Julia, all the girl did as her body was seared was to arch her back, but she kept time by tapping the flooring. When the awful business was complete, the second girl took her place, but the first, rather than returning to the others, just put her hands on the girl's shoulders to hold her in place. The second girl's behavior mirrored the first's. They were followed by the third, then the fourth, and then the fifth. But the two eldest girls stayed at the blocks and held the younger girls in their arms while they were being branded. Finally, it was the turn of the youngest, who later I learned was not yet 12 years old. Her right flank was branded and she could barely contain a choked-off cry. When the iron was applied to her left cheek, though, the girl gasped, then screamed. She didn't move though, although then she began to cry like her heart was broken. Finally, the awful process was complete. Only then did I look out at the crowd and realize that apparently more than half the people had already left. Although they had come to witness executions, the sight of beautiful girls being tortured was more than they could stand. Thinking about what I had seen, I realized that these young women had gained the admiration of the crowd. The child rose from the block and moved toward the whipping post. As she started toward it, the oldest girl — the first branded — moved her aside and said, "I will take Judy's strokes. She's much too young." Apparently the girl's screaming was to be punished by whipping. At that instant, something came over me. Stripping off my own clothing, I moved the girl aside and said, "No! I will accept the punishment for this child." The youngest girl, Judy, came up to me and exclaimed, "No! I was at fault. Punish me!" she ordered the executioner. Shaking my head, I ordered him not to. Then, when I took the position, the girl came into my arms. I held her tightly and kissed her. As our lips met and merged, I barely felt the whip scoring my back. The little girl was crying in my arms while still kissing me. She eased her lips away from mine and whispered, "Why?" "Because you are my daughter," I replied. Where that answer came from, I have no idea. But that's what I said. As I felt the whip cutting into my back, I felt even more strongly the child's lips moving over my body. She kissed my breasts and licked my nipple rings. I absorbed the ten strokes without really feeling any of them. I released the child and turned around so that I could be whipped across my tits. The child moved close behind me and began to kiss and lick the whip cuts across my back. She put her arms around my waist knowing that her hands and arms could be cut by the whip. But that was of no matter to her. The whip cut into my breasts, my stomach, then across my pussy and down to my thighs. Every time it struck, I could feel the child wince, but she just pulled her body even closer to mine. Finally, it was over. I thanked the executioner for his trouble and for his skill with a whip. To my surprise, he then led the crowd in three cheers... for me! Unbelievable. While this was going on, the girl — only a couple of inches shorter than five feet at the time — asked, "Why? Why did you do that?" "Because it's a mother's duty to protect her child," I replied. Where that statement came from, I have no idea, either, but that's what I said. "Mother?" the girl asked. I looked into her lovely blue eyes and saw... I really don't know what I saw, but it certainly looked like love and Divine grace. "Yes, my darling daughter. You are my daughter. I am your mother." That was another statement on my part from out of the blue somewhere. The "entertainment" was over. The eight of us — now all naked — descended the steps from the execution platform and headed home. I suppose it must have been odd to see seven newly-branded women and one who had just been whipped, all naked, walking down the middle of the main street. "The people of Wessex might as well get used to seeing me walking around naked," Julia commented. "The fine folks in Essex certainly are by now." The youngest, Judy, walked beside me holding my hand. She was oblivious to the streaks of blood — my blood — across her body. The two of us were bringing up the rear. Then Judy stopped suddenly, and pulled me to a stop, too. Turning to me she asked, "Could I have another kiss, please?" I looked down into her brilliant blue eyes that were wide with wonder. "Why?" "I... I... I want to see if your kiss is as good as I remember," the girl replied. Then she shook her head and added, "It really can't be, but I want to see how close it is." I took her in my arms ignoring the stabbing pain in my tits as she compressed her body to mine across my still-bleeding whip cuts. She raised her head and tilted it. I kissed her gently at first, but then with increasing power. Then I did something I had wanted to do from the first: I probed her mouth with my tongue. Writhing her body against mine, I could feel her tongue meet mine and start a dance of love in her mouth. The instant our tongues made contact, I felt that marvelous electricity flow between us. I just increased the power of my kiss to see what would happen. What happened was that Judy increased the power of her own. And so it went. I don't think she was trying, but she almost put me out. Pulling her even tighter against my bloody body, I began to move mine in counter rotation to hers. The feeling was heavenly. Finally we eased apart to breathe. Only then did I become aware of the fact that the others had stopped and were watching us. Judy just rested her head on my tortured tits while I caressed her hair. The other girls were agape. Finally I asked softly, "How was it?" "The finest kiss I've ever had in my life," she replied. Then with her eyes wide she asked, "Will you be my mommy, Mistress?" "Yes, my darling daughter," I replied, "I would be proud to be your mother." Hand in hand, we continued our march down the street. The engineers had truly outdone themselves. In only a few weeks they had erected a magnificent house on several acres of land. Unlike the palace — a fortress, really — the house was just that: a lovely house. There was a low fence bordering the property in the front and a much higher privacy fence surrounding the property in the rear. I wondered if they had managed to complete the swimming pool. (They had.) When we entered the house, the captain in command of the engineer company showed us around. In its basic design it was similar to the royal apartment at Essex, containing a number of suites. The kitchen duplicated Kate's, and was a dream. After being shown around, the captain took his leave, and Julia and I went to work on the girls. Julia took the older three, Sandy, Susan, and Jillian, into the master suite, while I took the younger three, Judy, Sarah, and Connie into the suite I claimed as my own. Since there was no clothing to be discarded, I marched the three girls right into the shower. It was about the same size as the master bath at Kate's, and slightly smaller than the master bath in this house. The girls' eyes widened in wonder. Never had they seen anything remotely like it. Primarily because there was nothing remotely like it in the kingdom. After the shower, we went to the baby swimming pool, loaded, as usual, with a gallon or so of musk oil floating on the surface. The girls were utterly beautiful. Connie, the oldest at 14, was taking on a womanly form. Her nipples were already erect and sitting on small areolae. Sarah, 13, had lost her baby fat and already had a perfect pair of legs, while her waist pinched in over slim hips. And then there was Judy. Although she had shed her baby fat, she was still as straight as a stick. The only sign of her approaching womanhood was the sensitivity of her nipples. All the girls were golden-haired and blue eyed. Working on their lovely bodies, I took particular care to try to remove the black flesh from their brands. Although it had to have hurt, none of them made a sound. While Sarah and Judy remained in the tub just soaking, I took Connie to the massage table and began to work on her body. The first thing I did was to use that marvelous ointment that Kate had discovered. When I applied it to her brands, the girl just sighed in relief and relaxed while I worked on her muscles. Finishing her massage, I carried her, now sound asleep, into the bedroom and put her to bed. The process was repeated with Sarah, and then it was Judy's turn. The process was identical, but with one significant exception. She remained bright-eyed throughout the process, refusing to close her eyes. When I finished with her, she motioned me to get on the table. Not knowing what might be coming, I did. What came was extraordinary. First of all, it immediately became apparent that the small girl had been making careful mental notes of everything I had been doing, and did them all to me. But there was an exception: Before applying the magic ointment to my cuts, she kissed the full length of each one, constantly murmuring, "I love you, Mommy." Her application of the ointment was something else. Never before nor since, have I found a person with a touch like Judy's. Although I suspect that comment isn't fair. I don't think she actually touched me at all. Rather, her fingertips moved less than a hair's breadth above my body as she applied the soothing and healing ointment. It felt divine! When it was finally over, she helped me — honest to God, she did! — off the table and into the bedroom where her two friends were already sound asleep. She put me to bed, then got in beside me. In an instant, we were both asleep, with Judy in my arms. When we awakened later, it was time to eat. I led the way into the kitchen and found Julia already there with the other three girls. Bill was there, too, by then, and was just admiring the beautiful naked women preparing dinner. Julia was really using her head. Suspecting that the girls hadn't been eating much, she kept it simple: steaks with a baked potato and salad. From the way the girls' eyes widened as the perfectly prepared steaks were put in front of them, I'm certain they had never had one before. Moreover, they had never experienced silverware before, either. It was so cute! Sandy kept her eyes on Julia and did what she did. The other girls watched Sandy and copied her. Without exception, they moaned with pleasure after taking the first bite. Fortunately, we had finished dinner and were putting away an apple pie before Sandy started telling us about themselves and asking questions. Her first question was where were the girls to sleep that night. She had looked, but couldn't find a stable. "Stable?" Julia responded. "What do you mean?" Then we learned that the girls ranked below the slaves in the castle. The slaves were allowed to sleep in the kitchen, while the girls slept in the stable with the animals. Only then did I realize that the reason Judy had slept with her body on mine and her arm over my tits was because the girls had had to sleep close together for warmth. They were not even granted a blanket. The story only got worse. Julia asked them what they wanted to do. "You girls want to return home, don't you?" "We have no homes," Sandy replied. "Our families have all been executed. It prevents people from complaining later, I suppose," she explained. "My last sight of my home was watching it go up in flames with the bodies of my family inside." I almost vomited at that one. But it got worse! "When we started a few months ago, there were eight of us. We were told by the king what was in store. We would be taken by everything with a cock." She paused and said, "Two of the girls couldn't stand the prospect." "What happened to them?" Julia asked. Big mistake! Sandy just made a slitting motion across her neck and said, "And then there were six." "Sandy persuaded us that as long as we remained alive, there was hope," Susan explained. "And now we are enslaved to the Queen Regent and the Crown Princess. It's just so great! "I guess the thing that saved us was that the King couldn't decide how to start with us. He couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted to stretch our cunts and assholes by starting with smaller cocks and working up to horses, or if he should just start with a horse cock. He thought our screams of agony would be delicious, but on the other hand, we might die before the fun had scarcely begun." My God! I thought, I was married to a monster! But he was far, far worse than I ever could even have imagined. "So what did you do?" I asked. "Mostly, we went down on each other," Sarah replied. "Mostly the four of us went down on Sandy and Susan. They're the ones with developed tits. The rest of us..." She just sadly shook her head. "A couple of times Susan and I offered to go down on the king, but he refused. And I'm sure I could have deep throated him, too..." Her voice tailed off, but I didn't know why. Then I learned the reason. "He was such a tiny pencil-dick, I don't think his cock would even have reached to the back of my mouth, let alone down my throat," she added. "That's the best thing that could have happened to you," I responded. "Undoubtedly, Gus was rotting from every sexually-transmitted disease known to man." Then with a grin I asked, "Are you girls really good cunt-eaters?" The response was immediate: six happy grins and six heads rapidly nodding up and down. Changing the subject, I had been watching Bill admiring the pulchritude around him, so I asked, "And just what are you looking at, William Morrison?" "Oh... Nothing" he replied with the most innocent look on his face that he could muster. "Nothing... ?" "Well, Mother, you must admit that these are lovely young women..." "William Morrison," Julia exclaimed, "you've got all the woman you can handle sitting right beside you." Looking at Sandy, seated on his other side, he agreed, "I sure do!" "Bill!" Julia exclaimed. "But, sweetie, I was only agreeing with you," he complained. "What's so wrong about that? And besides... Sandy is just so lovely. Such pale skin... Such tenderness..." Tears came to Julia's eyes. She was still deeply tanned and was even more muscular as a result of their honeymoon than she ever had been. Then she really began to cry. "Oh, Bill! I'll stay out of the sun. I can be pale, too. And... and... I'll bet I can be as soft as Sandy pretty soon, too." Realizing he had gone too far, Bill spun in his seat and took Julia in his arms. "My wife is simply perfect!" he said softly. "My darling, I love everything about you. Your cunt is as sweet as sugar... always! And the way you use your muscles when I'm deep inside you is utterly marvelous. And watching you in orgasm is a treat." Rolling his eyes he continued, "It's a damned good thing I'm in shape or you would throw me into the next county. My wife is simply perfect," he repeated. Then he kissed her. The girls could all hear the bells and feel the electricity flow between them. "They're simply perfect!" Sandy breathed. "Dear Lord," she prayed, "please let me find a guy who's half as good as Prince William. I... I... I will have as many babies as you will allow me to praise Your Name. Please, God... ?" By this time, Julia and Bill had eased apart. "Since we're stuck with you little twerps..." Julia began. "Oh, my God!" she nearly screamed. "I've... I've got... little sisters! Oh, shit!" "That's right, dear," I agreed. "And just think of all those nice things you used to do to your older sister, Kate..." "Oh, shit!" she repeated. "But that's not fair, mother! There was only one of me, but there are six of them!" "Things that go around, come around," I commented airily. "I'm sure you'll come to love your little sisters, too." The other girls just giggled merrily — and it was a lovely musical sound — while Julia tried her best to pout. But then she just shook her head, grinned, and started to giggle, too. That night, Sandy and Susan slept with Bill and Julia. Julia said she wanted to keep an eye on them, while the girls said they were just going to give Julia a few pointers on making love. The two youngest came into my room, while the middle two had a suite of their own. In bed that night, it was simply marvelous. This time it was Sarah, the 13-year-old, who kissed me, fondled me, and told me how much she loved me after we made each other dizzy with our kisses. While we were doing that, Judy was just caressing my body all over. And then the little bitch found my clit ring! The two of them had a great time at my expense as they drank at my source. For my part, I don't think I had ever cum so much or so often in my life. When they finally quit, I fainted... Or something. The next morning when I awakened, I found that the middle two, Jillian and Connie, had joined us. Judy had to show them my clit ring they had discovered and then the two middle girls picked right up where the youngest two had left off. What a workout! Finally, though, the four girls went back to sleep while I stumbled off to the bathroom to wash off the vaginal juices and cum cream that had nearly glued my thighs together. Leaving the four asleep, I went out to the kitchen. There I found two very sad-looking girls, Sandy and Susan. They had found eggs and bacon in the refrigerator — marveling at how cold it was inside it — but having retrieved them, they had no idea what to do next. It was all I could do to keep from howling with laughter when I realized that one or both of them had even retrieved a supply of small sticks to burn in the stove, but they couldn't find anyplace on the electric range to put them. They were so damned cute! I soon had breakfast cooking and then one after another, the other four appeared. They pronounced my breakfast delicious. (So there, Kate and Julia!) While they were eating, I retrieved a cell phone. Only recently had I learned that it was a satellite phone, usable anywhere. I used it to call Jean in Cumberland. And I actually reached her, too! The reason for my call was to inquire about school teachers. On the ride over from Essex, Julia and I had resolved to open a school as soon as possible. Surprisingly enough, Jean knew of two teachers, and she gave me their names. In no time, we had a school going. As long as I live, I will never forget the looks on their two faces when a cart delivered a load of school books to them. They were the first printed books either had ever seen. They treated them with reverential awe. And it was repeated when they distributed the books to the children. The books sat unopened on the children's desks while they just stared at them. Initially, the school was divided into upper and lower grades. It came as absolutely no surprise to learn that our six girls thirsted for knowledge. In no time at all, they were all reading, and then began moving ahead in their studies as fast as they could go. And that was very fast indeed. Believe it or not, I actually started to teach again, too. Greek and Latin, no less. My new daughters were simply wonderful. Beyond that, though, we began to explore the castle. One of the first things we found were boxes of bills, some of which went back more than a year. It turned out that Bill had several young men in his battalion who had studied accounting, and he detailed them to Julia and me. What we found was appalling. No merchant had been paid, apparently, for more than 18 months. So where is all the money? I wondered. At that point I alerted Bill. He broke up his battalion into platoon-sized units and assigned each platoon to a segment of the nation. When patrolling their segment, the platoons, in turn, subdivided into 5-man mounted patrol units. What they found was even worse! One of the commands Julia had given on that first day in Wessex was to disband the armed forces. But it proved to be easier said than done. The numbers of men to be processed for separation were huge. As a result, a full month later, fewer than 25 percent of the troops had been paid off. The others just continued about their regular duties. It was one of these units, "going about its regular duties", that a patrol found raping an 11-year-old girl. There were ten men, and they were taking turns, all the while complaining that her cunt and asshole were too tight. "They're getting looser!" the girl cried. "Please don't beat me again! If you keep fucking me, though, I'll soon be nice and loose on both sides." Our patrol numbered five men including the sergeant in command. Ignoring the fact that they were outnumbered two to one, they moved in. And, as I commented earlier, the Slobovians were thugs, not soldiers. They surrendered. The sergeant carried the small girl back to her home where he found her mother in bed, very ill (she was recovering from childbed fever she contracted when her infant was stillborn a few weeks earlier). There was also a young girl of about seven. The girl in his arms told him that she had been trying to keep the men away from her mother and little sister. "They would have killed them both," the girl said softly. The sergeant got on his cell phone and called in. A young nurse on active duty with Bill's unit rode out to the farm. She was followed by a detachment from the Essex engineer battalion that had just arrived in Wessex. To a man, our troopers felt they had to redeem the reputation of soldiers everywhere. As a result, the Jones farm was the first electrified farm in Wessex, along with having the most beautiful farmhouse in the nation, too. Janet Jones, the 11-year-old, proved to be pregnant. She carried the baby — a boy — to term and her mother raised him as her son. To Janet, the baby was her baby brother. Last I heard, Janet had obtained an education, was married, and was very happy. The same cannot be said of her assailants, however. When they were brought back to the castle in chains, I told Bill that I would arrange for a very fast trial. He just glared at me and ordered the prisoners taken back to the barracks. That same evening, a summary court martial was held. All ten were found guilty of rape and sentenced to death. By dawn the next morning, a gallows had been erected at the main gate to the barracks. With all the troops present drawn up, all ten were executed by hanging. Their bodies were just left there swinging at the rope ends until they decayed and dropped. The guards at the gate were happy to tell any passerby that rape of a child was not acceptable military conduct. Since the leader of the ten had been a lieutenant, the mass hanging certainly made an impression on the citizenry. But the continued patrolling found even more. There were numerous instances in which troops were collecting taxes and collected about 80% for the crown, and anything else they could find for themselves. Inevitably it ended with the occupants being murdered and their home put to the torch. I teased Bill about all the money he was saving the kingdom. "After all," I pointed out, "we don't have to pay them off if they're Discharged — Dead." And many were. After just a few of these hangings, the Wessexians decided we were really serious. People started to come forward with their stories. But that's where my two youngest daughters came in. Judy was the wonder. First, you've heard of people with a photographic memory? Judy had a phonographic one. She could play back from memory whole long conversations. One evening, I was sitting on the sofa in the library reading a book to Judy. Her head was on my shoulder and her lips were against my right tit while her eyes were closed. At that point Julia entered the room and asked me what I was doing. When I told her I was reading to Judy, Julia pointed out that Judy was asleep. At that point, Judy lifted her head and recited the entire page I had just read, complete with all of my vocal inflections. When she finished, she stuck out the tip of her tongue at her older sister and asked, "Or would you rather I start at the beginning of the book?" The girl is unreal, and Sarah is nearly as good. At any rate, it seemed that the girls had another talent. They could dress as town urchins and they would just disappear. They could be right next to a group of people standing around and talking, but it was as if they weren't there. They were just part of the scenery or something. Anyway, using this combination of abilities, the two girls became our Intelligence Service. They could — and did — keep us posted on what the people were talking about. More importantly, they heard stories of thefts involving all of the king's former ministers. Gossip was certainly no basis for a conviction, but it was a basis for our accountants to start looking. And look they did. And, boy, what they found! The thefts from the citizens and the crown on the part of the former ministers was awesome. The results of this were quite interesting. First of all, when I sentence a criminal to confinement at hard labor, I mean hard labor! And since we were in the process of installing an infrastructure similar to Essex's — sewers, water mains, electric power, etc. — there were lots of utility trenches to be dug. And guess who did the digging? You're right! The former ministers. And if you don't think that made an impression on Wessexians, you're nuts. Particularly since they were required to work naked. But there was more. First of all, we seized their estates. This left their wives in a somewhat exposed position. That we took care of in a different manner. It seems that both Julia and I had had the same secret ambition: to operate a tavern. The unemployed — and unemployable — wives of the ministers presented a solution. We opened a new tavern, The Royal Arms. Its signboard carried the new coat of arms of Wessex. Operationally, it was similar to the Sign of the Golden Bear, with one notable exception: Rather than having the girls wearing skimpy costumes that exposed their tits and their cunts, we just had them work naked from the outset, wearing only wide leather collars to identify themselves as waitresses. A few of the wives objected to this, and that was quite all right with us. Instead they were assigned to ditch-digging crews, all of whom worked naked, too. If I remember correctly, one woman stuck it out for almost three full days before she decided that peddling her ass was easier than digging ditches. However, before they could do that, they had to get in shape. We did help in this. Eyesight was repaired with the laser, and a lot of dental work was done. Beyond that, though, they had to get in shape. The incentive was 20 lashes each day until they were in shape. That proved to be a powerful incentive. It was the stick. But then there was the carrot. In our case, the carrot proved to be an exercise machine that duplicated Maude Macaulay's. It proved to be so popular, I swear the poor thing was running 24 hours a day. It got so we had to stagger the shifts because the women insisted on at least 30 minutes on the machine before going on duty. Then, when they did, both their cunts and assholes were stretched, cum was flowing down their thighs, and they were ready to greet their customers. A final point: as a favor to their husbands for good behavior during the week, the men were given four hours with their wives each Sunday at no charge! Of course, after we had been doing this for a while, and after the women had really become very sleek and muscular, the husbands would trade some of their time with their wives with their guards and others for special favors. This was all right with Julia and me provided only that the husbands were present to watch. Oh, yeah... There was one other thing the girls did to increase their business. Beginning with the prime minister's wife, they got tattooed. She had the words, "Prime Minister's Cunt" tattooed in red right above her hairless slit. Later, she added "Prime Minister's Tits" and Prime Minister's Asshole" at appropriate spots on her body. The other women quickly followed suit. And you know what? By that time, they were all truly beautiful sluts. Finally, Wessex had been cleaned up. And, in a fashion similar to what had happened in Essex a few years earlier, the nation started to come alive. And then the war started. ------- Chapter 38 By the time the Wessexian armed forces had been paid off, my son Bill was shocked. Would you believe it? There was only a single platoon from the former army kept in service. But it was good, and its commanding officer, a young lieutenant named Henderson, was outstanding. In the face of the most brutal conduct imaginable on the part of the rest of the Slobovian troops, he had maintained discipline and behavior in his small unit. And was Bill ever grateful that he did! You see, this relates to the geography of the area. Incidentally, at the time of the invasion, negotiations were already in train to create the Empire of Eastland. In preliminary conversations, we talked about enlarging the kingdom of Essex to include Wessex, Cumberland, Sussex, Lancaster, and so on. They would revert from kingdoms to duchies. But that didn't seem to fit our needs. Moreover, it would have required changing dozens of crowns, letterheads, and all the rest. Too much bother. So the Empire came into existence. What the empire did was to handle defense. For this, the emperor, Bill, received one-half a percentage point of the other kingdoms' tax collections. They kept the remaining 1.5 points for themselves to cover all their other national needs. Oh, yeah... We had previously harmonized our tax rates among all the component nations at 2%. And, of course, for backup we still had the royal interest in The Angel, our private gold mountain. As a result, the Empire of Eastland financially operated fully on gold. Incidentally, to add to Kate's pain, the Wallaces and the Martins had signed over most of their ownership in the Angel goldmine, keeping only five percentage points each. This gave the Empire an additional 40 percent to use however might be seen fit. I thought it was handy; Kate was in tears. But back to geography, or more specifically, topography. As was said before, Wessex is west of Essex, as are Sussex and Cumberland. But there's a big difference. Sussex, south of Wessex, is bounded on the west by an impassable mountain range. Cumberland, to the north of Wessex, is bounded on the west by a very deep and fast-flowing river that had never been bridged. The result was that neither could be directly attacked from the west. This leaves Wessex. Our western border is the same river that borders Cumberland, but at Wessex it's much narrower and had been bridged. East of the bridge, there is a mile or so of open land and then a very dense forest through which a single road had been cut. But I said that Bill was grateful for the one remaining Wessex military unit. Like his own, it was a unit of mounted infantry, but only a platoon in size. It was under the command of Lieutenant Kenneth Henderson. The reason for Bill's gratitude had to do with the western forest. I said there was a road through it, but the forest was about 20 miles across. The reality was that it was honeycombed with narrow trails, but the trails were only known to lifelong Wessexians... like Henderson and his men. The importance of these trails rested on the fact that a force moving on the forest road was subject to attack from the woods for virtually the entire 20 miles. But from the point of view of an army advancing on the road, the forest appeared to be impenetrable, so an effective counterattack was essentially impossible. This brings me to that fateful day. First of all, a large delegation of ambassadors plenipotentiary from more than a dozen western European nations was visiting Wessex. The purpose of their visit was to try to persuade us to harmonize our tax rates with theirs... at 70 percent. (Isn't that nice? Prior to our arrival, the harmonization would have cut Slobovia's tax rate by 10 percentage points.) Bill and I were sitting on our thrones. We were not impressed with their arguments. Then a page came to the throne and whispered to Bill. He looked at me and just shook his head, then left with the page. It was a satellite call from the platoon sergeant of Henderson's platoon. A powerful force of Western troops had forced a crossing of the river at the bridge and were taking up positions on our eastern bank. Further, he reported with his voice cracking, Lt. Henderson had stayed to cover the withdrawal of his men to the protection of the forest, but had sacrificed his life to save theirs. There were tears in Bill's eyes when he told me the tale. When confronted with this information, the ambassadors temporized. Two things were very clear. First, they were astounded that we already knew about the river crossing. How could this be? they wondered, knowing from the schedule established before their visit that it had just happened. Second, they tried to dismiss it as just some military exercise that meant nothing. They wanted to continue our talks, so we did. What they did not know, though, was that, prior to returning to the throne room, Bill had given orders for full mobilization of all Wessex troops and ordered his battalion of mounted infantry to move at their best possible speed to the eastern edge of the forest. There they were to meet Henderson's platoon who would serve as guides for them through the woodland labyrinth. The second thing he did was immediately to call King Bill in Essex in his capacity as William, Emperor of Eastland and Commander in Chief of the Empire's armed forces. This created a problem. As I said before, Essex — and hence, the Empire of Eastland — had a very small standing army. On active duty, there was Bill's battalion of the Queen's Own Mounted Infantry Regiment. Beyond that, there were cadre for three full divisions, plus the remaining battalions of the Queen's Own, but it required mobilization, and mobilization took time. Bill told young Bill that the rest of his regiment would be leaving for the front in Wessex quickly — it had top-priority mobilization status — and he would follow with the main body as soon as possible. It wasn't great, but it was the best that could be done. And two things I knew: Bill would be moving as fast as humanly possible, and the main body, when it arrived, would be composed of highly-trained, highly-motivated troops. They were the very best in Europe. So we talked. And we talked. And we talked some more. Meanwhile, the western forces had remained at their bridgehead; they had made no attempt to move inland. On the other hand, additional troops and supplies kept pouring across the bridge. Finally, the invading troops made their move. They began their march east on the forest road. At that point our talks ended. Moreover, as Queen Regent, I announced: "Gentlemen, you are now persona non grata in Wessex. This means that if you are still within our borders 48 hours from now, we cannot be responsible for your safety." Something else transpired as the ambassadorial contingent prepared to leave. Three young women were brought before me accused of spying and consorting with the enemy. I knew for a fact that all three had been increasingly familiar with the foreign delegation. The leader of the three was named Kathy. Like Kate, she was auburn haired, but with green eyes rather than Kate's blue. The other two were blue-eyed blondes. All were quite tall at about five feet nine. I ordered them taken out and branded. Julia, Bill and I went out to the courtyard to witness the punishment. All three were branded with the seal of Wessex. None made a sound as the iron seared their flesh. Their only concession to pain was to arch their backs. When that was concluded, the leader, Kathy, was pierced and ringed in her nipples, navel and clit, and then she was given 20 lashes with a whip. Throughout the whole process, the girl never uttered a sound. Finally, it was over. While still naked, they were thrust at the departing ambassadors with the admonition, "Take these sluts with you!" Before they rode out, though, three cloaks were thrown in their direction. "Cover your nakedness, sluts!" The women did, and without a word, the party rode out of the castle. There's another element of topography I failed to mention before: The 20-mile forest road discharged onto a plain shaped like a very shallow roof-edge gutter. It ran east-west and rose gently to ridge lines on both the north and south sides. No army commander in his right mind wants to have low ridges on his flanks. Heavy cavalry could really build up a head of steam charging down those shallow slopes into troops massed in the center. But that's the lay of the land, and there's nothing anyone can do to change that reality. What followed over the ensuing week was very funny for us, but not at all funny to the invading army. Bill's battalion had quickly joined up with Henderson's men who had been divided among Bill's companies. Using the hidden forest trails, time after time, they attacked the invading column on its flanks. When the enemy brought up reinforcements, Bill's people just melted away. It was brutal and bloody... for them. For our part, we didn't lose a man. When it was all over, Bill received a battlefield promotion to lieutenant colonel and was named second-in-command of the full regiment of the Queen's Own. Bill of Essex commented that whether it was the War College training or his own innate common sense, Bill could not have handled the fighting retreat any better than he did. One thing Bill's forces concentrated on were supply wagons. I'm not sure if the Western commander ever figured it out. The fact was that was where Bill concentrated his attacks. And I guess it was funny. There would be a group of four supply wagons, then there would be an attack, and then the wagons would simply disappear. When the invaders looked closely, it appeared the wagons had been driven right through giant trees. It was wonderful! At any rate, when the enemy finally reached the end of the forest, they had lost fully 25 percent of their manpower and a much higher fraction of their supplies. But that wasn't a problem... they thought. After all, they intended to supply their troops primarily through foraging. When they finally broke out, though, they found themselves facing an array of sharpened posts — a palisade — driven into the ground at about a 45-degree angle facing them. It wasn't really a fortification, but it would stop any cavalry charge. No horse could clear the pales. Furthermore, they came face-to-face with the balance of the Queen's Own Mounted Infantry Regiment. Not a pleasant sight to see. Nevertheless, they were clear of the forest and the infernal sniping that had been steadily costing them men. The army dug in and set up camp at the edge of the forest. Being aware of the topography, they took particular care of both flanks. Two days after they set up their camp, Julia spoke to Bill. He, in turn, gave some orders. (The command structure was interesting. Bill was second in command of the regiment and commanded a battalion of his own, but he was also Crown Prince of the nation under attack. The result of this was that, far more often than not, the colonel commanding the regiment at the time deferred to Bill.) The night passed quietly. At dawn, the enemy found something rather disconcerting. It seems that the night before, four foraging parties had been sent out to find food. There were troops with wagons to bring the food back to camp. The following morning, at the four points designated for the foraging parties to return through the lines, sentries found single carts without a horse in the traces. In the back of the cart they found the bodies of the foraging party neatly stacked with the officer commanding's body on top of the pile. Why no horses? You can eat a horse if you're hungry enough. They were not given the opportunity. The same thing happened on three other nights. Clearly, the enemy was getting desperate. By then, Bill's assault on their supply wagons on their march through the forest might have begun to make sense. The army was starving! Again Julia went to Bill. This time, most of Bill's battalion of troopers rode off accompanied by all of Henderson's men. The following morning, they all returned. With them was an entire convoy of supply wagons. Two of the wagons were missing; they were stacked with the bodies of the accompanying troops, along with their officers, and were spotted where the column was expected to emerge from the woods. Oh, dear! What a pity. The invading army had developed another problem: disease. (It wasn't until World War II that deaths from enemy action exceeded the number of deaths from disease in armies.) There were thousands of troops with no proper sanitation and only polluted water to drink. They were in deep trouble. Unfortunately for us, Emperor Bill and the main body was still about three days away from our position. Out of sheer desperation, early one morning the enemy launched an all-out assault. It was beaten back, but not without loss on our side. Then they came with another. It was close, but again our lines held. Our wounded were starting to accumulate, so Julia and I shed our clothes and started to help care for them. To our surprise, we were joined by my other six daughters. Quickly, they stripped off their clothing and began to care for the wounded. The truly amazing element was the wounded the girls chose to care for. You see, as is often the case in military field hospitals, there was a triage function: wounded are divided into three groups. One group requires immediate attention; another is composed of men whose treatment could wait. The third group, though, was composed of men felt to be too far gone to be treated. They were left on their cots to die. It was this third group on which my young daughters concentrated their attention. While Julia and I worked with the second group — those awaiting treatment — I kept an eye on my younger girls. What I saw was incredible! When the girls arrived, the men in the third group looked like what they were: dying men. There were 48 of them lying on stretchers in six rows of eight. Their agonized cries were terrible to hear. The girls began to work on them and it was unreal. They, too, began to extract arrows, stitch wounds and treat the men with tender loving care. It was as if the very touch of their hands was healing. Without a single exception, when they left a man he was sound asleep. Their wounds were bound and they were in a healing sleep. I noticed that there were two young men on whom Sandy and Susan seemed to particularly concentrate their attention. They were very young junior officers, both with horrible leg wounds that would cause the loss of their legs at the very least. But the girls worked on them with love and finally ended it with a kiss. Even at a distance of about 50 feet, I could see the electricity flow between the men and the girls. And then they, too, slept. Just then, who should ride up, but Kate. She had ridden on ahead of the main body which was slowed by the pace of its leg infantry. But there she was. Seeing that we had just finished giving first aid to the last of the wounded from the prior attack, she said, "Let's have some fun!" Given the circumstances, nothing I could see seemed to be at all like fun, but what did I know? Kate picked up a longbow and a quiver of arrows. (The arrows had come from the supply train we had ambushed. Thanks, guys.) Then moving out naked in front of the men, she peered over our angled palisade to see what she could see. Looking at the quivers of arrows, she took the one with red feathers for herself, pointing out that Essex's coat of arms was mostly red. Julia got the blue quiver, while I was stuck with the whites. Kate looked out and saw a group of senior officers giving orders on a high point of land about 150 yards away. She loosed an arrow that flew high and then struck the most senior right in his eye. Julia and I realized instantly what Kate was doing, and we did the same thing. The object of our game was to see who could take out the highest point total of officers. Kate assigned values to generals, colonels, majors, captains, and so forth. Very sporting of her, I thought. The enemy returned fire, but it seemed that their bows didn't have the range of our longbows, although their arrows were landing near us. It was fun for us, but not for the enemy, I'm afraid. Then we heard their bugles sound the attack. To our surprise, many of the wounded men we had just treated hobbled or crawled out to be with us to repulse the latest attack. Would you believe it? They claimed to be inspired by our archery. The enemy began to come at us. While our positions were better, we were still outnumbered by about five to one. But we managed to darken the sky with flights of arrows. We were taking them down in windrows, but still they came. I guess we might have done too good a job in restricting their supplies; they were desperate. But then I heard a blare of bugles coming from the northern ridge line. Looking over, I saw a line of knights — heavy cavalry — lining the ridge. Then movement to the south caught my eye. Another line of heavy cavalry lined that ridge, too. From both ridges, bugles blared. Down from the two ridges they came. They moved at a canter in a very shallow "V". At its apex on both sides was a knight in blue armor. We were a few hundred years short of the requisite time period, but I could almost hear the bugles of the U.S. Cavalry, coming to the rescue of the settlers, with the bugler sounding "Charge!". As they neared the enemy lines, both lines of cavalry separated into four columns for a brief interval and then reformed as a line abreast in the shallow "V". Then I realized why they had split into columns: As soon as they passed, infantry rose up from concealed positions close to the enemy lines. They had infiltrated in advance of the cavalry attack and were by then in position to provide close infantry support. The two forces hit the enemy lines at almost the same instant. I saw the blue knights with their heavy swords in the air gleaming silver in the sunlight. The swords came down, and the next thing I saw were the blades dripping blood. The two leaders hacked their way to the center of the enemy force, then each turned right. The northern force headed west, while the southern force attacked to the east. In moments, it was all over. The enemy began dropping their weapons and raising their hands. It swept over the troops and in a very short time, it was finished, except for burying the dead and processing the prisoners. That process began immediately, with the prisoners being ordered to begin the burial process. By evening, things were well in hand. A pavilion had been set up for Julia and me. Only then did I learn that the northern blue knight was Charlie mounted on Titan, leading the cavalry from Cumberland, while the southern force was from Sussex. King Michael was with them, and his son, Steven, was the southern blue knight. It was fascinating, really. The Cumberland forces from the north, and the Sussex forces, along with King Bill and the main body of troops from Essex had all arrived at once. And then it was time for rape and pillage. Of course, this created a bit of a problem. Since the battle had been fought in Wessex, pillage was out of the question. But there was still rape... ------- Chapter 39 Things were starting to get interesting. I had just seen my love, King Michael of Sussex, and was about to assault him when I heard a scream, "Stop!" It was Julia. Spinning around, I saw her confronting a group of troops who were preparing to behead three women. My eyes widened when I realized they were the same three who had been branded and thrown out with the Western diplomatic delegation. Although I was not close, I was close enough to see that the three were gaunt and haggard. Clearly, they hadn't been eating well, either. "What are you doing?" Julia demanded. "We're executing these sluts who've been consorting with the enemy all these weeks," the leader of the group replied. "Stop this instant and bring them to me!" Julia imperiously demanded. Thoroughly cowed, the men did as they had been told. By this time, I had moved closer to join my daughter with Michael following in my wake. "You fools!" Julia continued. "Without these incredibly brave women, we would have had no chance. As I'm sure you know, it was close enough even with their help. Without it, we would have had no chance at all!" "Help? What help?" the leader of the group asked, looking bewildered. "On four separate occasions, the enemy sent our foraging parties. All they obtained in return were the bodies of the foragers piled in a single wagon. The wagons were placed where the foraging parties were supposed to reenter their lines. "Now how in hell do you suppose we knew the parties were going out, let alone where they were expected to return?" The man just slowly shook his head. "Well, I'll tell you how," Julia continued. "After submitting to horrible torture — without making a sound, I might add — we threw them to the departing delegates. And, apparently as an afterthought, we threw three cloaks to them 'to cover their nakedness.' Well, guess what? Inside the lining of the cloaks were satellite cell-phones. These women used them to alert us to the schedule of the foragers, and — even more importantly — to the fact that a supply column was expected. "Why do you think my husband took his whole battalion and all of Henderson's scouts? Because we knew it was coming, turkeys!" To say the least, the troopers appeared embarrassed. "There's one more thing: The leader of this little group is Kathy Henderson... the widow of Ken Henderson, the commander of the scouts who gave his life to save his men. When Kathy learned of her husband's death, she secretly came to me and offered to do anything — and she meant anything — to help us. "The rest of it, you know." By this time Kate and Bill had joined us and they were whispering together. But the surprises weren't over. A gaunt bearded man pushed through the throng and said, "Kathy's not a widow. At least, not yet." The girl had been standing there naked along with her two friends. Hearing the words, she spun around and screamed, "Ken!" Incredibly, it was Kenneth Henderson. Obviously he had not been killed after all. However what had happened was that he had received a glancing blow on his head that stunned him. He made his way into the woods, but then didn't really know what had happened for a number of days. The problem was that, when he came to his senses, he didn't know where he was other than in the forest. We all then learned what the problem had been. While both he and his men could find their way through the forest maze, it required them to know where they were when they entered. Henderson's problem was that when he regained his senses, all he knew was that he was in the forest but he had no idea where. The result was that he spent the next weeks just wandering around in it, truly a lost soul. "But what did you eat?" Kathy asked. Her husband just slowly shook his head. "Sweetie, you really don't want to know." Suddenly Kathy's eyes widened and she started to cry. "Oh my God! I'm disfigured for life. You won't even want to look at me ever again..." Her voice tailed off into hopeless-sounding weeping. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world!" Ken Henderson declared. "And I simply adore your piercings. Will you let me play with them sometime?" "Any time!" she exclaimed emphatically. At that point King Bill — or in this instance, Emperor William (It had been decided that when he was acting in his imperial capacity, he should be William.) — joined the dialogue. "Kenneth and Katherine Henderson! Kneel before me," he ordered imperiously. (After all, how else should an emperor give an order?) With their eyes wide, both did. "It is with great pride I award you both Gold Crosses of the Empire. This is the highest award for gallantry our empire can ever award. "You, Kenneth Henderson, single-handedly held off a large attacking force to permit your troops to escape what was otherwise certain annihilation. Had they not escaped, we would have been defeated. There is no question about that. "My daughter, Julia, explained how Katherine informed her of the attempts at foraging and the attempted resupply. Had it not been for your troops and their knowledge of the hidden forest trails, the information would have done us no good. Their survival was due to your personal heroism. "Katherine Henderson, my daughter has explained how, because of the information you supplied, we were able to prevent the invaders from receiving any supplies. "You two — essentially by yourselves — enabled us to be victorious. "Finally, it is with great pleasure that I promote you, Kenneth Henderson, to the rank of colonel. You will command the new regiment of Imperial Scouts..." Bill sort of ran down because Kate was tugging at his sleeve. When he turned toward her, she whispered in his ear. Obviously, she was pleading for something. With a grin, Bill turned back to the kneeling Hendersons and continued, "Finally, in recognition of your service to the nation and the empire, you each will receive a cart-full of gold!" While the Hendersons were stunned, my darling daughter, Kate, heaved a great sigh of relief. She had managed to unload a little more money. Returning toward our pavilion, I saw Sandy and Susan impaling themselves on the cocks of the two young officers they had previously been nursing. "What are you doing?" I asked. (Actually I screamed, but "asked" sounds so much more refined.) "I'm... being... raped!" Sandy replied. Her scream was not the result of the rape, but of the monumental orgasm she had just reached. "Raped?" I yelped. (Yep. I really have to admit that I yelped.) "How can you be being raped when you're on top?" "Gil... has... a bad... leg!" she screamed as yet another orgasm swept through her. "And... ?" "So... I... had to be... on top!" (Yep. You got it. She got off again.) And would you believe it? Susan was just as bad with her Ed. Good grief! We returned to our pavilion, and you'll never guess what we found. Would you believe it? There were Steve with his two squires and Charlie with her two... playing Categories! While drinking Coca-Cola, yet! Even Mike cracked up at that one. "What in hell are you all doing?" he demanded. "We're playing Categories," Steven replied. "And we're getting killed." "Steven, I have news for you. It's a drinking game played with beer or whiskey! You don't play it with Coke!" "Why not?" Charlie replied. "I mean... Good grief! If we played with beer or whiskey, someone could get... drunk!" "That's the point, turkeys!" I exclaimed. (What's a turkey?) At that point we were interrupted by a messenger looking for Mike. After handing him a dispatch, he stood at attention while obviously waiting for a reply. Standing beside Mike I glanced over at the dispatch in his hand. Suddenly I realized that, even though he appeared to be reading, the dispatch was upside down! Taking the dispatch from his suddenly nerveless hand, I folded it and then unfolded it again, but right side up this time. Reading the dispatch my eyes widened. "This should be for me as Queen Regent of Wessex," I declared. Without further explanation I grinned at Michael and said, "Remember those oh-so-brilliant advisors from the Kennedy School of Public Administration?" Delighted that his handicap had apparently not been noticed, he replied, "Yes, I do. So... ?" "This dispatch says that there are a total of six and all of them have been captured. Furthermore, the dispatch is asking you what to do with them. Apparently they were captured by your troops from Sussex..." Mike just nodded. "But," I continued, "although your troops captured them, they did so here in Wessex. That being the case, they really should be our prisoners, not yours." With a grin I added, "Don't you agree, Majesty?" Mike just nodded again, but eagerly this time. After dismissing the messenger, I led Mike out of the pavilion while leaving the young people to their own devices. Moving to a location out of the earshot of anyone present, I glared at Mike and declared, "Michael of Sussex, I hate you!" That really took him aback. He looked like he had just been slapped across the face. "You bastard!" I continued in the most venomous tones I could muster. "You almost destroyed my life. Do you know that I was in my room alone for weeks after you left. Had it not been for Kate and Julia I would have died. "And it's all because you can't read or write!" Then glaring at him I exclaimed, "Do you really think I care? Damn it, Michael, I love you." I paused and changed my tone of voice... dramatically. "Don't you realize, you fool, that I love you more than life itself? Don't you realize that when you left me, I wanted my life to end?" "But I can't read!" Mike exclaimed. "Big fucking deal!" "But..." Changing tack, I put the dispatch that I was still holding into his hand. "Can you see the marks on this paper?" He just slowly shook his head, no. "Damn it, Michael of Sussex! I would really hate your guts if I didn't love you so damned much. It's now so clear! You're far-sighted. You can't see anything close up, so of course you can't read! "Well, guess what? My daughter, Kate, knows of a magic machine that can cure that instantly." Then I shrewdly added, "And I'll bet that your son, Steven, is in the same boat. Right?" All Mike could do was to nod. "Well, turkey (Damn it! What is a turkey?), Charlie is the daughter of a teacher — my former tutor, in fact — and she can teach Steve to read... while I teach you! And that's what we're going to do... between bouts of fucking. Understood?" Michael looked like he had been poleaxed. But he was able to nod. Storming back to the pavilion, I barged in to find the six young people still playing Categories. "Off your ass and on your feet!" I ordered. (To be more accurate, I shouted.) All six jumped to their feet. There was Steve with Charlie and their four squires. It came as no surprise to me that Charlie's were female. "Now strip! All of you!" "But Mattie... !" Charlie protested. In my haughtiest tone I stated, "Young lady, you are addressing the Queen Regent of Wessex... And you are in Wessex! Therefore..." "But there are men present!" "It seems to me, young lady, that you were begging your mother to turn you out. Right? And while it might have escaped your notice, I'm already naked?" Kate, Julia and I were still naked from having cared for the wounded, loosing our arrows, and then repelling the final enemy attack. "Yes, Mattie," Charlie replied glumly. I merely raised an eyebrow (I really do that rather well. One of my few accomplishments.) As she started to strip, she replied, "Yes, Your Majesty." "Now, the purpose of this afternoon's festivities: We have just won a decisive battle. And what happens after a decisive victory? Looting and rape, of course." Trying to look thoughtful I continued, "Unfortunately, since the battle was fought in Wessex, I'm afraid that looting is out. So, girls, I'm afraid that leaves rape. "So on your backs with your legs spread... wide! Clear?" Then to Charlie I asked, "Have your squires been trained in cunt-eating?" By that time all the young people were naked and I realized that all three young women had shaved pussies so I answered my own question: "From the looks of their adorable bare pussies, I conclude that they have." The three young women just looked at me, wide-eyed. "All right," I ordered. "Form a daisy chain and eat each other out. It will be helpful if your juices are all flowing freely before your rape." The three young women — Charlie was the oldest at about 19, while the other two were about 15 — formed into a triangle while each was lying on her left side. After raising their right legs straight up, they went to work on the closest pussy with great enthusiasm. In a very short time, each of them had achieved orgasm and just flopped over on their backs. When she was finally able to speak coherently, Charlie asked me, "What now?" To that question, all I could do was to roll my eyes. (I'm pretty good at that, too.) "Good grief, girl! Your mother was a prostitute for virtually your whole life! Don't you know?" Charlie just slowly shook her head and replied, "No, I don't know. Mom would never let me watch. She was afraid that if her john saw me, he would want me instead of her. All I ever got to do was to eat the cum from her cunt and lick the fresh whip cuts." By then her legs were back together and she had raised her torso and propped it with her hands on the ground. "Besides," she sniffed, "I'm certainly not going to allow myself to be raped by a guy to whom I've never been properly introduced!" Glancing over at Mike, I saw that he was struggling to avoid cracking up with laughter. At the same time the three young men's eyes were almost popping out of their sockets as they ogled the three young lovelies. And the girls truly were beauties; like Charlie, they were tanned all over and hard-muscled. With their legs still spread, it was easy to see the lubricating fluid dripping from their pussies while their nipples were vibrating with arousal. As for the guys, I doubt if their cocks could get any harder; already they were hard enough to cut diamonds. Steven, hearing Charlie's plaint, moved between her legs. In fact, his vibrating cock was moving up and down involuntarily on her slit. Barely able to control my own laughter, I managed to say, "Crown Princess Charlene of Cumberland, may I present Crown Prince Steven of Sussex." But I couldn't resist adding, "While your titles appear to be equal, Charlene, Steven is heir apparent to the throne of Sussex while you are merely heir presumptive." "And, Steve," Charlie retorted, "if you ever call me Charlene, you'll need a new head! Clear?" Extending his hand, he took Charlie's raised it to his lips and kissed it. And that movement again caused his cock to move up her slit, but this time it contacted her clitoris, which had extended itself and was peeking out between her labia. At the contact, Charlie shuddered in orgasm. Meanwhile, Steven replied, "It's very clear, Charlene. I shall refer to you as Charlie whenever possible." But since she was still in the throes of orgasm, I'm quite sure Charlie didn't hear a word he said. ------- Incomplete and Inactive ------- Posted: 2002-12-18 Last Modified: 2010-05-12 / 06:42:15 pm Version: 1.10 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------