Beauty's Kingdom

  He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, even though I still prodded him with the paddle handle. I gave one of his nipples a hard twist, and watched his chest muscles twitch.

  “Oh, it’s humiliating, all right, for a proud steed,” I said. “I know.”

  I gave him a good hard crack on his powerful hindquarters and he jumped.

  “But this is what the King wants!” I said. “And therefore you must want it.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, stammering and shifting his weight. He had always been very polite, well bred. When the King had discovered he was educated, he’d sent him books to read during his recreation—something that would never have occurred to anyone at all ever in the old kingdom—and César had enjoyed them, often curling up under an oak to read Ovid rather than jostle with the other ponies at rest in the yard. There was a special place in his stall for his books. Yet he had become a leader among the new Court ponies, teaching them many things, and the grooms came to him all the time with questions because there was nothing César didn’t know about being a pony. I knew the King’s taste. César and the husky and pretty-faced satyr, Brenn, were his favorites and one would not replace the other in his heart. Brenn was being trained to great versatility from the beginning and César must learn to be flexible and pliant as well. It thrilled me to think of how the King would turn César inside out in the months to come.

  “Listen, the King loves you both,” I said, now pressing close to him. “You’re suffering over nothing when it comes to Brenn. Befriend him. That is what the King assumes you will do.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said again. “Brenn is my friend. Brenn’s been kind enough to me, has been since he came. I won’t try to outrun him tonight, sir. I won’t do anything to displease you or the King.”

  I squeezed his hard bottom. The paddle would barely faze him. His skin was alabaster smooth but tough.

  I saw Elena hurrying towards me, looking quite tasty in her new black satin gown. The ladies of the Court were displaying new fashions inspired by the Queen. Breasts were often half bared, and waists were high and skirts full. Elena looked perfect in this new style, and wore ropes of pearls about her neck, given her by the Queen.

  “They’re ready to begin,” she said. “They were all waiting on that strange wild-eyed Lexius and he is at last there.”

  I heard the trumpet sound for the first chariot and its passenger to whip the first slave onto the path. Sweet Sybil. I couldn’t see from here. Though there must have been thirty in line, I knew things would happen now very fast.

  Quickly, I went to Valentine and kissed him and embraced him. “Now you make me proud tonight,” I whispered in his ear. He was crying as always but he answered me in the most gentle voice.

  A groom came down the line, wiping noses and cheeks and making what last little adjustments might be needed to the slaves’ boots. He was slapping cocks here and there, and pinching nipples to make them hard.

  I headed to my chariot and climbed up and made sure of the reins. Brenn stood there, in full practical harness, arms strapped to his back, boots planted firmly on the earth.

  “You ready to keep up with César tonight, Brenn?” I called out and Brenn gave me a vigorous nod.

  He’d only been in the stable for three days, and yesterday after much training, he’d pulled the Queen alone in her smallest and most delicate chariot on her regular evening drive. The Queen had been completely delighted. She had had him turned out completely in red harnesses and had adorned his cock with red ribbons and golden bells. Brenn had shed a world of tears but was perfection to her and King Laurent.

  When they returned to the castle she had given the reins to me to take Brenn back to the stables, and there I’d watched as Georgette unharnessed him, teasing him about being the only little colt among so many fillies.

  She loved paddling him. She’d thrown him over her knee and asked him over and over again as she spanked him, “How much does the Queen love you, tell me! Tell me more.”

  Poor Brenn had sobbed and given the only acceptable answer, “I want to please her.” After that I walked with the groom who paddled him back to the King’s Stables for recreation. I had always hated those driving paddles and the humiliating spanks when a slave is merely being moved from place to place. But I knew that most slaves needed this. Slaves had to be maintained. Discipline had to pervade every moment of their lives.

  Brenn’s form was perfect. In the recreation yard, César had beckoned to Brenn to come join him and they lay on the green grass together, César reading his little book, and Brenn with his head on César’s chest as he slept—and César playing idly with his black hair. But still, César was jealous. I knew this. I understood it.

  Again and again the trumpet sounded as one slave after another was pushed onto the path.

  I had a clear view of Dmitri lining up his chariot beside Stefan and I could see even from this distance that Stefan was as compliant as before. The mask looked so pretty. I wondered if we shouldn’t do more with masks. But then the words came back to me, “the Discipline of the Mask.” If it already had a meaning, well, then, we should develop that meaning, shouldn’t we—of a highborn lord or lady within the kingdom submitting to rigorous slavery through the Discipline of the Mask. And surely the Queen was already contemplating this. She’d be asking our advice on it soon.

  Dmitri and Stefan moved up to first place. The slave pulling Dmitri’s chariot was Bastian, another of the King’s own team. I wondered if the slaves hated this particular duty as they wore such plain brown harnesses with only a little brass here and there—nothing like the full dress when they pulled a carriage or chariot for the King.

  Suddenly the trumpet sounded and Dmitri swung the paddle driving Stefan onto the path. I couldn’t see if Stefan’s cock was at attention, but I had seen it earlier and it was splendidly huge and red.

  Off they went, Stefan marching with knees high and shoulders back, smacked again and again as they moved off and around the curve.

  I listened attentively and could hear the distant roar of the crowd around the royal banquet table soon enough.

  There were many slaves ahead of us now but César was brought forward and stationed to my right. He was now weeping frantically, and the groom again wiped his face.

  César’s backside was barely pink from whatever discipline he’d had that day. But his skin was tough, tough from years of the paddle and the strap, and I knew I had to paddle him hard to make the slightest impression and that I was prepared to do.

  The leather paddle was long and broad and just the right weight. In the old days these paddles had been strapped to the arms of the lords and ladies who drove their slaves, but now we merely held tight to the handles. And there was a spare paddle in every chariot in case somehow one’s paddle was dropped. I never saw anyone drop a paddle.

  With a little time to kill, I jumped down and went up to Brenn. He was weeping as copiously as César. I checked his harnesses to make sure nothing was chafing. He wore a butt plug with a small decoration of flowers like all the ponies, and a long plain horse’s tail of black to match his hair.

  “Now what’s all this sobbing?” I asked, but that only made him cry more. “You and César make a splendid picture. And I want pride now, not weeping.” He did his best to straighten up.

  I checked the bit between his teeth and it was perfect, soft, but good enough size, and of course connected properly to the reins.

  “You set the pace,” I said. “And César won’t dare to outrun you.” I kissed him and his eyes closed and then he glanced at me and I kissed him on his eyelids. “You’re a lovely colt,” I said. “Just the most beautiful.” I rubbed his hair.

  I went to César.

  “Now, I’m going to pound that backside of yours,” I said, “but you keep to the pace set by Brenn, you understand, no matter how hard I whip you.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said
.

  “And let me tell you a little secret. When you find yourself running before the royal dais, when you hear the cheers of the Court, you’ll love it. You’ll stick out your chest and pick up your knees like never before.”

  I didn’t wait to see all the tears that would gush after that, but got back in the chariot and took the paddle in hand.

  Up ahead I saw Valentine spanked up to the starting line by Elena, who was a vision of sweetness in her black gown as she held the reins of her chariot in her left hand.

  When the trumpet sounded, Valentine hesitated, but the paddle sent him scurrying forward and they were soon off, pounding down the path, Elena swinging the paddle lustily and Valentine running as if for his life.

  A memory came back to me of being driven along the path in the last year of my time with Queen Eleanor—by the cold Lady Elvera who had been Laurent’s mistress of those years. She was as sedate then as she was now. I knew she’d be at the banquet table on the dais. She always was. And I reflected helplessly on how very different everything was now.

  Lord Gregory was forever seeking these days to draw her into his little world of grumblings and forebodings and bitter complaints: too much laxity; too much pampering; not enough maintenance of the hard and fast rules; not enough silence, isolation, hard punishment, and the like.

  Lady Elvera tolerated him but she was more than content. She had the remote severity of the old queen.

  We were nearing the starting line.

  Only one chariot was before us, carrying the Grand Duke André in all his predictable splendor and, standing beside him, his precious slave, Princess Braelyn, who had been serving him for a year when Laurent and Beauty had come. She had a warm ruddy complexion and a wealth of reddish-blond hair. It was gorgeous as it fell down her back. The Bridle Path was nothing new to her. But I wondered what it meant to her to see so many new faces, new slaves, new courtiers.

  We pulled up right behind them and I heard the Grand Duke, in his soothing voice, tell her that she must put on a special show tonight or she would disappoint him, but this was all the usual banter. He adored her.

  When the trumpet sounded, he spanked her with a force quite remarkable for such an elderly man.

  Off they went and we were in first place. I could hear César’s sobs and I told him firmly to be quiet.

  “Close your lips, as if you have a bit between your teeth!” I gave him a hard spank, but it was like hitting granite. Nevertheless he jumped as he always did, and he did quiet down. Veteran ponies can be remarkably sensitive to blows delivered by particular persons while becoming insensible to the endless whacking of drivers and grooms.

  At last the trumpeter lifted his horn. There came the clear musical blast, and with a great hard blow I went after César, pounding him at least a good six times before we’d moved but a few yards. The reins were tight in my left hand.

  Brenn ran as fast as he could, and César effortlessly kept up with him, and what a splendid pair they were.

  Over and over I pounded César’s hard backside, determined to make him feel something, and on he ran.

  Suddenly we were nearing the royal dais and I could see the King had risen to his feet. He gave a cheerful wave to his favorites and blew them kisses, and a great roar went up from the crowd like a breaker on a wintry beach.

  On the other side of the track was another dais, on which many were gathered, privileged to be directly opposite the King and Queen. And they too were roaring and cheering.

  I paddled César harder than I’d ever paddled a slave in my life. He was running beautifully and so was Brenn. How that hard little butt plug must have jiggled inside Brenn’s backside. I had no idea what it meant to run like this with a horse tail phallus or a plug inside me. My world had been made up of quieter things.

  The royal pavilion was soon behind us. On and on we went past the countless smaller pavilions and tables, the waving arms and the eager faces, and finally we were in the last few yards before the new stables for the end of Bridle Path and the grooms waiting to attend both slaves.

  As soon as I jumped down from the chariot, I took César in my arms. He was utterly broken down. I told him to embrace me and he did put his head on my shoulder and sobbed.

  “You were magnificent!” I said.

  A groom appeared and told us that César had to hurry, that the King wanted César rubbed with gold and mounted on a cross in the garden for the rest of the night.

  Desperately his powerful hands clutched my shoulders.

  But I pulled back and wiped his face quickly with my linen handkerchief and told him to do exactly as he was told. This had never happened to him before, being bound to a decorative cross in the gardens, and I knew he was afraid.

  “In a few moments, you’ll be strapped firmly in place,” I told him, “just as firmly as ever you’ve been strapped to a chariot or cart, and then you can close your eyes and drift.”

  “Drift, my lord? What does it mean to drift?”

  I laughed. “To doze and dream,” I said. “Now go.”

  Brenn had been completely unharnessed and thrown over a huge overturned barrel to be scrubbed and bathed. He lay still with his eyes closed.

  I waited until they had thoroughly dried him and then, unhooking the collar and leash from my belt, I went to him and told him to kneel for the collar. I snapped the leash to it, and told him he must walk before me, as the ground here was too rough for his knees.

  “The Queen wants you for her pet tonight,” I said. “They want to show you to their new guest, Lexius. Have you ever heard his name?”

  “No, my lord,” he answered. He was still winded and tired but clearly very at ease.

  “Well, you will find him very pleasing to please,” I said. “Your bottom’s not red enough. But I won’t spank you till we reach the garden.”

  “Yes, my lord,” he said.

  “And how was it for you, your first time pulling a chariot on the Bridle Path?”

  “I hope I pleased, my lord,” he said predictably enough. “I was running as fast as I was able. I knew César would run fast.”

  “You did well,” I said.

  When we reached the soft grass and carpets of the gardens, I ordered him down on his knees. I found a deserted table beneath a huge oak, somewhat out of the way of all the festivities, and I turned him over my knee and spanked his pretty quivering backside hard with the paddle I still carried till he was the perfect shade for the Queen’s taste. After César’s granite bottom, it was nice to be paddling a slave who flinched and sobbed with every blow. But he was as perfect as any slave who’d been here for months or for years.

  I put him down on his hands and knees again and pulled him along. He followed at my heel without the slightest urging. Puppy or pony, he was excellent.

  When I reached the dais, Beauty had a dish of cool wine and honey ready for Brenn and she watched with a smile as he lapped it up.

  “That was all done very well, Alexi,” said the Queen to me, “and my little Brenn was perfect, but I do long to see him smacked along the Bridle Path soon too. Perhaps tomorrow night.”

  “As you wish, madam,” I said. “I’ll drive him writhing and crying along the path with pleasure.”

  Brenn was hearing every word but gave no sign of it. I felt I knew Brenn’s soul, knew the erotic delirium in which he was existing.

  Lexius and the King were taking their leave.

  “Where is Eva?” I asked. “I don’t see her.”

  “I don’t know,” said Beauty. “Sit here beside me, Alexi. Thank you. I think the King will be busy with Eva and Lexius tonight.”

  I smiled. “That ought to be a splendid encounter,” I said.

  “Yes, and Dmitri’s gone to be with them too.” She put down bits and pieces of meat for Brenn to gobble.

  “And what did you think of Stefan?” I asked under
my breath.

  “Oh, he was remarkable!” she said. “And he looked splendid. Dmitri drove him mercilessly but he never broke pace or form. I think perhaps the mask might come off soon. But then maybe again, he’ll always wear it. Seems masks are most interesting to the Court and in the village. I’m giving much thought to the uses of masks.”

  I was not surprised.

  “Come,” she said. “Let’s take a little walk through the garden.” She tugged Brenn’s leash as she rose and I took her hand. “I want to see some of the games. I haven’t paid enough attention to the games.”

  That’s our precious queen, I thought. I wished I could kiss her, take her in my arms and cover her in kisses, but I could not do such a thing here. But maybe later on tonight, I would be alone with her, if the King and Dmitri and Lexius and Lady Eva were busy as the hours passed.

  If I hated anything in the kingdom, it was the King yanking me out of bed after Beauty and I had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. He thought nothing of gently hurling me to the floor. Of course he was always in good humor when he did it, but there was a certain mockery in his voice when he said, “Out of my chambers, little monkey, and now.”

  Beauty roused me from my reverie. We were making progress slowly, surrounded by bowing courtiers on all sides.

  “What do you think, Alexi?” she asked. “Is it splendid or not?” She gestured to the great teeming gardens around us.

  “It’s splendid, my queen, more splendid than I ever imagined it could be, and that is the truth.”

  “And you, my dear Brenn, what do you think?” She pulled him so that she might kiss him. “Is it all as splendid as you imagined?”

  “Magnificent, my queen,” he said. “I never in my wildest longing dreamed of such a paradise.”

  Finally, the King’s summons had come. It was very late, and I was being escorted not to his private chambers but to those of “a guest.”