Beauty’s Release (Sleeping Beauty #3)(22)
Author: Anne Rice

I heard a sob against the gag. Good enough. I stopped and went round to the head of the bed and looked at his face. Nice show of tears. But there was no impertinence. I untied his hands.

"Get off onto the floor with your hands down in front of you and straighten your legs," I said.

Slowly, with head bowed, he obeyed. I loved the way his hair fell down in his eyes, the way the gag bound the rest of it. He was thoroughly chastised now. And his backside was nice and hot, burning hot.

I lifted it high with both hands and I made him walk on all fours that way, bu**ocks up to my pelvis as I walked behind him. I stepped back and whipped him hard in a good circle around the room, made him go quickly. The sweat poured down his arms. His reddened backside would have gotten compliments at the castle.

"Come here, stand still." I said. And I went between his legs again and entered him, startling him, so that he cried out behind the gag.

I reached out and untied the knot behind his head, but I held the two pieces of silk like horses’s reins, pulling his head up, and I pumped into him, shoving him forward, his head nice and high, the reins holding him. He was sobbing, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from humiliation or pain or both. His backside felt so hot against me, so delicious, and he was so tight.

I came again, spurting into him in violent jerks. And he bore it, not daring to lower his head, the silk taut in my hands.

When it was done, I reached under his belly and felt his cock. Hard. He was a good slave.

I laughed softly. I let the gag drop away. And I went round in front of him.

"Stand up," I said. "I’ve finished with you."

He obeyed. He was glistening all over. Even his jet-black hair gave off a shimmer. The look in his eyes was mellow and profound, and his mouth looked luscious. We stared into each other’s eyes.

"You may do what you like with me now," I said. "I suppose you’ve earned the privilege." But the mouth–why hadn’t I kissed him? I bent forward–we were the same height–and I did kiss him. I kissed him very tenderly, and he didn’t move to resist me. He opened his mouth to me.

My c**k came up again. In fact, the pleasure washed through me. It started grinding in me. But it didn’t hurt anymore. It was sweet, getting harder and harder and kissing him, this silken giant.

I let him go. I reached up and felt the line of his jaw where the well-shaven hair was just coming out as it does late in the day. I felt the bristle over his lip, on his chin.

His eyes had an indescribable luster. It was the soul but the soul through a veil of beauty that was distracting.

I folded my arms, and I walked over close to the door, and I knelt down there.

So let all hell break loose, I thought. I heard him moving about, saw out of the corner of my eye that he was dressing, running a comb through his hair, straightening his clothes with quick, angry gestures.

I knew he was confused. But so was I. I had never done such things before to anyone, and I had never dreamed how much I would love it, how much I had wanted to do it. I wanted suddenly to cry. And I felt terrified and sad; and half in love with him; and I hated him because he had shown all this to me; and I felt triumphant–all at the same time.

Chapter 11

BEAUTY: MYSTERIOUS CUSTOMS

IT SEEMED a quarter of an hour had passed, and still the double doors had not closed. Now and then they had moved, creaked on their hinges a little, the opening narrowing, then widening. Beauty, shivering and weeping in the tight gold wrappings, knew that someone was watching her. She tried to still the tumult in her mind, but she could not. And, when panic swept over her again, she struggled violently and uselessly, the bonds holding her quite firmly.

The door opened wider. And it seemed her heart stopped altogether. She lowered her gaze as best she could with her chin thrust up by the collar. And her tears melted everything into a golden glow through which she saw a richly dressed Lord approaching her. His head was covered by an emerald-green velvet hood embroidered in gold, and his cloak covered him to the floor, his face completely veiled in shadow.

Quite suddenly Beauty felt a hand on her wet sex, and she swallowed a sob as the hand pulled at her pubic hair and pinched her lips, and then parted them with two fingers. She gasped, biting into her lip, trying to be quiet. The fingers pinched her clitoris and pulled on it, as if to stretch it. She moaned aloud, forgetting to close her lips, and the tears slid down her cheeks faster than before, as a gasp caught in her throat with a low, strangled sound.

The hand withdrew. She shut her eyes, waiting for the man to move on, to go down the corridor as the others had towards the distant sound of the music. But he remained there, right in front of her, looking at her. And her soft cries echoed abominably in the marble alcove.

Never before had she been so tightly bound, so helpless. And never had she known such silent tension, as the figure stood before her doing nothing.

But quite suddenly she heard a small voice, a timid voice, speak to her. It said words she couldn’t understand and the name "Inanna." With a shock, Beauty realized this was a woman’s voice. It was a woman saying her own name, and Beauty saw that this was no Lord at all, this creature in the emerald cloak. Rather it was the violet-eyed woman from the harem.

"Inanna," the woman said again. And she lifted her finger to her lips, gesturing for silence. Her expression wasn’t fearful, however. It was determined.

And the sight of the woman covered in the splendid green robe subdued Beauty and strangely aroused her. "Inanna," she thought. "What a lovely name. But what does this creature, Inanna, want of me?" She stared back unabashedly as Inanna looked up at her. Ferocious eyes, they seemed now, and the mouth bittersweet, and the blood dancing underneath the olive skin as it must have danced in Beauty’s face. The silence between them was charged with emotion.

Then Inanna moved her hand inside her robes and she drew out a large pair of golden scissors. At once, she opened the scissors and slipped them under the silk wrappings that crossed over Beauty’s belly, and she cut the cloth in big slow strokes, easing the cold metal up Beauty’s flesh as the cloth fell away quickly.

Beauty could not see this happening because of the high collar. But she felt it keenly, felt the scissors’s blade crawling down her left leg and then her right and the tight cloth falling away without a sound to release her. In an instant, she was free of all covering and she could move her arms; and only the collar held her. But Inanna stepped up into the niche and released the hook, and, freeing Beauty from the collar, she took her down out of the niche and towards the doorway.

Beauty glanced back at the open collar and the abandoned silk. Surely others would discover this. But what could she do? This woman was her Mistress, wasn’t she? She hesitated, but Inanna opened her cloak and covered Beauty with it and took her through the doors and into a large chamber.