Beauty’s Kingdom (Sleeping Beauty #4)(10)
Author: Anne Rice

He winced, the muscles of his torso tightening, but he didn’t make a sound, and those tears slipped down his face. There was dark hair on his chest, lovely dark hair, curling around his nipples. I hadn’t seen it clearly at first in these shadows. But now that I did see it, I loved it. I stroked it, played with it, played with the thin little curls around his nipples.

I slapped his cock right and left and then slapped his face hard.

He was shocked but his cock was harder than ever, dancing superbly.

“You’re mine,” I said, “and there is no one to interfere, you understand?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Now turn around, and get down on all fours in front of the fire, and hurry. I want to see your face clearly by that light as I punish you.”

He obeyed at once.

“And your lips are sealed now. Sealed.”

He nodded.

“Your rebellious heart drove them wild in the old days,” I said. “I’ve heard plenty enough about it. But you won’t rebel against me. You won’t dare.”

Again, he nodded.

I knelt up beside him. I had his handsome bottom to my right and now at last I kneaded those exquisite fleshly cheeks, felt just how tight they were and how soft and hard at the same time, such a sublime mixture of strength and vulnerability.

I slipped the handle of the paddle into my hand.

And lifting his chin with my left hand, I rained down on him the strongest spanking blows I could deliver. I let loose with all my strength, paddling him again and again with the full force of my arm. At once he struggled to be quiet, helpless little gasps escaping his lips, and as I continued to spank him as hard as I could and as fast as I could, he shifted, struggled, tightened, and finally shuddered all over in his struggle to remain still.

On and on I went with it, giving full vent to my strength, my teeth clenched, but my eyes remained fixed on his face, on his knotted brows and the wet, squinting eyes, my hand keeping his chin elevated mercilessly.

Again and again, I spanked him. He was dancing now, he couldn’t help it, his bottom contracting, then loosening, his legs swaying even though he struggled to kneel firmly, but I went on, spreading the blows, smacking him on the right side more and then more on the left, and suddenly letting loose with a torrent on his sturdy thighs. Now he could barely keep quiet. Yet his hands and knees remained firmly on the carpet.

A low delicious groan came from deep within his chest.

“Lips sealed,” I reminded him. “Groan if you will, but lips sealed.” I put the fingers of my left hand over his mouth. He shivered and then I heard a sob deep in his throat.

But I continued to work with the paddle, going back now to his bottom, slamming it as hard as I could, delighting in the loud, crisp cracking noise that the paddle made.

“You know, Your Majesty, you don’t have to be a bad boy to deserve punishment like this,” I said in his ear. “You only have to be a boy! And a beautiful boy at that! You do understand that, don’t you?”

He nodded as best he could with me holding his chin.

“And I so love to do it,” I said. “I have so wanted to do it since the moment I first saw you.”

I dropped the paddle on the Indian carpet.

I came round and knelt down in front of him, and pressed his hot wet face against my bosom. He sobbed against me, against the tight green brocade. I stroked his thick wavy hair. I might have come then, just from this, if I had not struggled against it, against my nipples burning, my nether mouth burning.

“You are mine,” I said in a low confidential voice. “And now you may speak to me, you may answer, you may acknowledge this.”

“Yes, Eva,” he said. His voice as low as mine, as confidential. “Yes, Lady Eva!”

“Oh, we’ll forgive that little infraction,” I said. “Once, but never twice.”

I could feel him sobbing harder, feel the sobs cutting loose one after another as he pressed his lips against my breasts. It wasn’t the pain that was making him sob. He could take a great deal more pain than that. It was that he felt helpless.

“Tear the cloth, tear them free,” I said. “Gowns I have aplenty.”

At once with his teeth he bit at the gold border of the tunic, then tore the brocade loose, ripping it down and away from the right sleeve as a beast might tear it, exposing my breasts.

“Suckle them,” I said.

I could hear him moan, but he was barely kissing my nipples, the tears shining in his dark lashes.

“Suckle,” I said. “The rouge on my nipples is flavored with the essence of cherries. Can you taste it?”

He murmured his assent to this.

His mouth closed on my left nipple and he drew on it with the fierceness of a babe. I sighed, the sudden throb of pleasure so full and huge inside of me that I almost went over the brink. My breasts had always been too sensitive, my nipples connected directly to the throbbing clitoris between my legs.

“But wait,” I said, pressing his forehead, moving him back. “Kneel up, hands on the back of your neck facing the fire, and stay there.”

I went to the chair. It was time for the golden strap. The strap was wide and soft and not too heavy but heavy enough and plenty long. It felt as good as it looked. Then of course there was the belt I wore, but it was heavy, cumbersome. No. I chose the golden strap.

I doubled it over and whacked my left hand with it. Perfect.

I went back to the fireplace, standing in the wide margin between his kneeling body and the hearth, facing him.

Kneeling down in front of him, I bit at his nipples again, hearing him gasp, bit at them fiercely, and then drawing back, I whipped his chest with the belt, hard, over and over again. He was plainly writhing in misery, and yet his cock, his splendid cock, was hard and shining and dancing to the tune of it. I kept my eyes on his cock as I whipped him, whipped his hard belly.

He bent forward, face tightened with pain, narrow eyes still sparkling with those abundant tears, and I think he tried with all his might to draw away from the belt without moving, but it was pointless of course, and I thrashed him harder and harder with it. I thrashed his thighs.

“Knees wider apart,” I said, “wider. Come on. You can do better than that. Wider.” I never stopped spanking him with the strap.

I stopped. I stroked his face with my left hand. “Does it hurt more than you remember?” He didn’t make a sound. I covered his face in kisses, nuzzling against his neck. “Well, does it?”

“Yes and no, Lady Eva,” he whispered.

I laughed, a low full-throated laugh. I couldn’t help myself.

“And look what you’ve done to my pretty gown,” I crooned in his ear. “Look.”

His eyes moved to my breasts. I could see the pupils dancing.

“Are they pretty?”

“Beautiful,” he murmured. He sighed.

I rose to my feet, the belt thrown over my shoulder. I stood just in front of him, but he was so tall that his head was almost to my breasts.

“Kneel up,” I said. And at once he obeyed.

Now he was at the right level.

I lifted my skirts. My sex was hot and dripping. I knew that he could see it, see the telltale moisture sliding down my naked inner thighs. I wished there had been a long mirror there so I might see it. I was in agony for him.

“Pleasure me, sire,” I said in a low voice. “Do it well.”

He needed no urging.

He came forward eagerly and clamped his mouth on my sex, and his tongue went deep inside me. I could scarcely remain standing upright. I struggled not to fall under the onslaught of pleasure, and as the orgasm broke loose, as it rolled like a great exploding flame up through me, I cried aloud as I hadn’t once permitted him to do. On and on came his tongue, licking at my clitoris, licking at my vagina, licking, and his hungry lips worked the flesh, my secret most sensitive flesh, sucking at my pubic lips, sucking, and finally I screamed for him to stop. The pleasure had emptied me, taken the breath out of me. Yet the faint echoing shimmers of it would not stop.

I pushed him away.

I wanted to lie down and then I thought, Well, why not? And I did. I lay back on the carpet looking up at him, looking at him kneeling there again near me, over me on all fours, this great strong man, this man who could have overpowered me with one hand, and I looked at his starved cock, and at his smooth perfect obedient face. He seemed ageless, a child and a man, the tears flashing in his eyes beautifully, his strong well-shaped mouth trembling just a little, only a little, the teeth touching the lower lip.

Finally I sat up. I reached out and fondled his scrotum again, leaning against his arm as I did it. “Have you ever been more ready, Your Majesty.”

“No, Lady Eva,” he said. There was a tiny smile on his lips.

“You think this is finished?” I teased him. “You think I’m going to let that cock have what it wants?”

No answer.

“Take a guess.”

“No, Lady Eva.”

I rose to my feet. I quickly laced up my dress in front as best as I could, but it was quite beyond repair.

Then I knelt again and took his head in my hands, kissing his eyes again, and running my fingers back through his thick hair. He shuddered all over. Every touch of my fingers, every kiss of my lips, was sending shivers through him.

Perfect.

“Kneel up and turn around. You know where your hands belong. I want to see your backside,” I said. “I want to see how well I’ve punished you.”