The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty

by Anne Rice

  “O, I despise that miserable Lord Gerhardt, why must he drive me?” asked the girl before her in a low voice. The groom said something that made her laugh. “But he’s so slow,” she said, “savoring every moment. And I like to run!” The groom laughed at her. She went on, “and what do I get out of it?—the most miserable spanking. I could take the spanking if I could only cut loose and run ...”

  “You want everything!” said the groom.

  “And what do you want? Don’t tell me you don’t like it when I’m covered with welts and almost blistered!”

  The groom laughed. He had a cheerful face, and was small of build, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, though his chestnut hair fell down over his eyes slightly.

  “My dear, I love everything about you,” he said. “And so does Lord Gerhardt. Now say something to comfort Leon’s little pet, she’s so frightened.”

  The girl turned and Beauty saw her pert face, eyes slanting at the ends somewhat like the eyes of the Queen, but they were smaller, with no cruelty. She smiled with full little red lips. “Don’t be frightened, Beauty,” she said, “but you have no need for comfort from me. You have the Prince. I have only Lord Gerhardt.”

  A great current of laughter passed through the garden. The musicians were playing loudly, with much strumming of their lutes and tapping of the tambourines, and then Beauty quite distinctly heard the thunder of hooves approaching. A rider shot past the windows, his cape flying out behind him, his horse bridled in silver and gold which made a streak of light as he rushed forward.

  “O, at last, at last,” said the girl in front of Beauty. Other riders were coming, and they were making a line all along the wall that almost blocked Beauty’s view of the garden. She could not bear to look up at them, but she did and saw they were splendid Ladies and Lords, and each held the reins of the horse in his or her left hand, and in the right a long rectangular black paddle.

  “Now, into the room,” said Lord Gregory, and the slaves who had waited in a long line were ushered into the next chamber where they stood directly facing the arched door to the garden. Beauty could see now that a young Prince was first in line, and she saw that mounted Lord, his horse pawing the dirt before the archway.

  Leon moved Beauty a little to the side. “Now you can see better,” he said.

  And she saw the Prince clasp his hands behind his neck and step forward.

  A trumpet sounded, catching Beauty off guard so she gasped. And a cry rose from the crowd behind the archway. The young slave was forced out and at once greeted by the black leather paddle of the Lord on horse-back.

  Immediately the slave commenced to run.

  The mounted Lord rode right beside him, and the sound of the paddle came loud and distinct as the murmur of the crowd seemed to rise and mingle itself with faint ripples of laughter.

  Beauty was aghast as she saw the two figures disappear down the path together. “I cannot do it, I cannot,” she thought. “I cannot be made to run. I will fall. I will fall to the ground and cover myself. To be tied, to be bound in front of so many was dreadful enough, but this is impossible ...”

  But another rider was already in place, and a young Princess was forced suddenly forward. The paddle found its mark, the Princess let out a little cry and was immediately running desperately fast along the Bridle Path, the rider after her, spanking her fiercely.

  Before Beauty could take her eyes off them, another slave was on the way, and her eyes blurred as she saw far ahead a dim line of torches outlining the path that seemed to go on and on through the trees, past an endless vista of feasting Lords and Ladies.

  “Now, Beauty, you see what is required, and don’t cry. If you’re crying it will be harder. You must put your mind on running fast, keeping your hands on your neck. Here, place them there now. And you must lift your knees high, and try not to squirm to escape the paddle. It will catch you no matter what you do, but I warn you, no matter how many times I tell you that, you will find yourself trying to run away from it. That is the trick, but remain graceful.”

  Another slave was running, and then another.

  And the young girl who had cried earlier was upended again, dangling, as she was spanked.

  “Dreadful of her,” said the Princess in front of Beauty. “She’ll be spanked hard enough in a moment.”

  Suddenly there were only three slaves before Beauty and the archway.

  “O, but I can’t ...” she cried to Leon.

  “Nonsense, my darling, follow the path. It will unwind slowly before you, you will see its turns well in advance, and stop only if you see the slave before you stopped. Now and then the line is stopped, for as the slaves come before the Queen, they must stop for praise or condemnation. She is on a great pavilion to your right, but don’t glance at her when you step out or the paddle will catch you off guard.”

  “O, please, I shall faint, I can’t, I can’t ...”

  “Beauty, Beauty,” said the pretty Princess in front of her, “just follow my example.”

  And Beauty realized with horror there was no one left but this girl.

  But then that one who had just been spanked was placed before her, and ushered out to the waiting paddle. The girl was frantic, sobbing, but she kept her hands on her neck, and soon she was running beside her laughing rider, a tall young Lord who lifted his arm way back as he spanked her.

  Suddenly another rider appeared, the elderly Lord Gerhardt, and as Beauty watched in terror, the pretty Princess ran out to receive the first blows and run with graceful lifts of her knees beside him. But for all her complaints, the Lord’s horse seemed to move terribly fast and the paddle was loud and merciless.

  Beauty was forced to the threshold of the garden. For the first time she stared at the true immensity of the Court, the dozens upon dozens of tables that sprawled out on the green and appeared in great numbers in the forest beyond it. Everywhere were servants and naked slaves. It was perhaps three times the size she had judged from the windows.

  She felt tiny, insignificant, for all her terror. Lost and without a name or a soul suddenly. “What am I now,” she might have thought, but she could not think. And as if in nightmare, she saw all the faces of those at the nearest tables, Lords and Ladies twisted to see the Bridle Path, and far to her right loomed the pavilion of the Queen, canopied and festooned with flowers.

  She was gasping for breath, and when she looked up and saw the splendid mounted figure of Lady Juliana, her eyes filled with tears of gratitude that it was she, though she knew Lady Juliana would spank her perhaps all the harder to do her duty.

  The lovely Lady’s braids were done with the same silver that threaded her shapely gown. She seemed made for the sidesaddle in which she sat and the handle of her paddle was laced to her wrist. She was smiling.

  There was no time to see more, to think more. Beauty was running forward, feeling the crunch of the Bridle Path under her horseshoes, hearing the stomp of hooves beside her.

  And though she thought it was not possible to endure such degradation, she felt the first cracking blow to her naked buttocks. It was so forceful it almost knocked her off balance. The stinging pain spread out from it like a warm fire and Beauty realized she was rushing forward.

  The stomp of hooves deafened her. And the paddle caught her again and again, almost lifting her and forcing her forward. She realized she was crying out loud through her clenched teeth, her tears making a blur of the torches that clearly defined the path before her. And she was running, running fast towards the enclosing trees, though she could not escape the paddle.

  It was as Leon had warned her; it caught her over and over and each time there was some hideous surprise because she was trying to outrun it. She could smell the horse, and when she widened her eyes and gasped for breath, she saw everywhere on either side of her those torchlit and abundantly decked supper tables. Lords and Ladies drank, supped, laughed, turned to glance at her perhaps, she did not know, she was sobbing and running frantically from the blows, wh
ich came harder and harder.

  “O, please, please, Lady Juliana,” she wanted to cry out, but she did not dare to ask for mercy. The path had turned and she was following it only to see more and more Nobles banqueting and dimly before her the figure of the other rider and slave who had greatly outdistanced her.

  Her throat was burning as much as her sore flesh.

  “Faster, Beauty, faster, and lift your legs higher,” Lady Juliana sang out over the wind. “Ah, yes, better, my darling.” And there came another shock of pain, and another. The paddle found her thighs with a hard uplifting slap, and then seemed to scoop up her buttocks.

  Beauty gave an open-mouthed cry because she could not stop it, and soon she heard her own wordless pleas as clearly as the horse’s hooves pounding the cinders.

  Her throat constricted, even the soles of her feet burned, but nothing hurt as much as the quick, strong paddling.

  Lady Juliana seemed possessed of some evil genius, catching Beauty from one angle and then another, lifting her up again with the blows, smacking her hard and then three or four times in rapid succession.

  The path had made another turn, and far ahead Beauty saw the walls of the castle. They were returning now. They would soon reach the Queen’s canopied pavilion.

  Beauty felt as if all the breath had gone out of her, yet mercifully Lady Juliana slowed her pace as did the riders before her. Beauty ran more slowly, knees high, and felt a great relaxation course through her. She could hear her own choking sobs, and feel the tears slipping down her face, and yet a puzzling sensation was passing over her.

  She felt suddenly calmed in some way. She did not comprehend it. She felt no rebellion suddenly, though the obligation to rebel prodded her. Perhaps she was only exhausted. But she knew only that she was a naked slave of the Court and anything might be done to her. Hundreds of Lords and Ladies watched her with amusement. It was nothing to them, as she was only one of many, and it had all been done a thousand times, and would be done again, and she must do her best or take her place tethered to that beam in the Hall of Punishments suffering for the amusement of no one.

  “Lift your knees, my precious darling,” Lady Juliana said to her as they were moving slowly now. “And O, if you could only see how exquisite you are, you have done splendidly.”

  Beauty tossed her head. She felt the heavy braids fall against her back, and suddenly when the paddle struck her she felt herself move so languidly with it. It was as if this strange relaxation were softening her all over. Is that what they had meant when they said that the pain would soften her? Yet she feared this relaxation, this despair ... was it despair? She did not know. She had no dignity in this moment. She saw herself as Lady Juliana must surely have seen her, and it seemed she almost preened as she imagined this, tossing her head again, pushing her breasts out proudly.

  “That’s it, lovely, lovely,” Lady Juliana called out. The other rider had disappeared.

  The horse picked up its pace; the paddle struck Beauty violently again and drove her through the clustered tables as the crowd grew thicker, the castle coming closer, and suddenly they had stopped before the pavilion.

  Lady Juliana turned her mount to the side, and with small prodding spanks brought Beauty beside her to attention.

  Beauty did not look up but she could see the long garlands of flowers, the dim white vision of the canopy ballooning gently in the breeze, and a host of figures seated behind the festooned railing of the pavilion.

  Her body seemed consumed with fire. She could not catch her breath, and then she could hear the conversation above, the Queen’s pure icy voice and others laughing. Her throat was raw, her buttocks pulsing with pain, and now Lady Juliana whispered:

  “She’s pleased with you, Beauty, now kiss my boot quickly and drop down on your knees and kiss the grass before the pavilion. Do it with spirit, my girl.”

  Beauty obeyed without hesitation, and as if it were water washing through her, she felt again that calm, that sense of what was it? Release? Resignation?

  “Nothing can save me,” she thought. All the sounds about her mingled in a din. Her buttocks seemed to glow with pain, and she imagined a great light emanating from them.

  And then she was back on her feet, and another hard blow sent her crying into the dark cellar chamber of the castle.

  Slaves everywhere were thrown over barrels, their sore bodies being washed quickly with cool water. Beauty felt its flow over her abraded flesh, and then the soft toweling.

  At once, Leon had her on her feet. “You’ve pleased the Queen marvelously. Your form was magnificent. You were born for the Bridle Path.”

  “But the Prince ...” Beauty whispered. And she felt dizzy, and mistakenly envisioned Prince Alexi.

  “Not tonight for you, lovely one, he is quite busy with a thousand amusements. And you must be placed where you can serve and rest, as the exertion of the Bridle Path is quite enough in one night for a novice.”

  He unfastened her braids and brushed out her hair in ripples. She was breathing deeply and evenly now and bent her forehead against his chest.

  “Was I truly graceful?”

  “Pricelessly beautiful,” he whispered, “and Lady Juliana is thoroughly in love with you.”

  But now he ordered her down on her knees and told her to follow him.

  She was suddenly out in the night again, on the warm grass with the noisy crowd all about her. She saw the table legs, the gathered gowns, hands moving in the shadows. There was a shriek of laughtet nearby and then she saw before her a long banquet table covered with sweets, fruit and pastries. Two Princes attended it and decorative pillars stood at both ends to which slave girls were affixed, their hands above their heads, their feet chained slightly apart at the bottom.

  One of these was removed as Beauty approached and she was quickly fastened in the girl’s place, standing firmly, her head and swollen buttocks pressed back against the pillar.

  She could see the whole feast around her, even with her lids lowered, and she felt herself quite firmly bound in place, unable to move, and it did not matter. The worst was over.

  Even when a passing Lord stopped to smile at her and pinch her nipples, she did not care. She was amazed to see the little brass bells had been taken away. She was so weary she hadn’t noticed.

  Leon was still nearby, at her ear, and she was about to murmur some question as to how long she would be here, when quite distinctly in front of her she saw Prince Alexi.

  He was as beautiful as she had remembered, his auburn brown hair curling against the hollows of his handsome face, his soft brown eyes fixed on her. His lips spread easily in a smile though he drew up to the table and gave his pitcher to be filled to one of those in attendance.

  Beauty stared furtively out of the corner of her eye. She saw his thick hard sex and the lush hair around it. The vision of the Page, Felix, sucking it filled her with sudden passion.

  She must have moaned or stirred because Prince Alexi, glancing up at the distant pavilion before he bent over the table to gather some sweet, suddenly kissed her on the ear, brushing Leon aside as if he were nothing.

  “You behave yourself, you wicked Prince,” said Leon, but it was not playful.

  “I shall see you tomorrow night, my dearest,” Prince Alexi whispered with a smile. “And don’t be frightened of the Queen for I shall be with you.”

  Beauty’s mouth quivered on the verge of a cry, but he was gone, and now Leon had drawn up to her ear again, cupping his hand as he whispered:

  “You’re to see the Queen tomorrow night for a few hours in her Quarters.”

  “O, no, no ...” Beauty wailed, tossing her head from side to side.

  “Don’t be foolish. This is very good. You could not wish for better,” and as he spoke, he slipped his hand between her legs and pinched her lips gently.

  She felt herself grow warm there.

  “I was on the pavilion while you were running. The Queen was impressed in spite of herself,” he went on, “and
the Prince said you had always shown such form and spirit. And again, he pleaded for you, and that the Queen should not censure his passion. He agreed then not to see you tonight but to have a dozen or so new Princesses paraded before him ...”

  “Don’t tell me any more!” Beauty cried softly.

  “No, but don’t you see, the Queen was enthralled with you and he knew it. She watched you closely as you ran, impatient for you to come to the pavilion. And it was she who said perhaps she should taste your charms herself to see if you were not as spoilt and vain as she had supposed. She will have you in her Quarters tomorrow night after supper.”

  Beauty cried softly, too spiritless to answer.

  “But, Beauty, this is a great privilege. There are slaves here who serve years without ever being noticed by the Queen. You shall have your full opportunity to enchant her. And you shall, my dear, you shall, you cannot fail to do so. And the Prince has been clever for once. He has not worn his heart for all to see it.”

  “But what will she do to me!” Beauty whimpered. “And Prince Alexi, will he see all of it? O, what will she do?”

  “O, she shall only make a plaything of you, of course. And you shall try to please her.”

  THE QUEEN’S CHAMBER

  HALF THE night was gone before the Queen came.

  Beauty had dozed, then awakened again and again, to find herself still chained in the ornate bedchamber as if in a nightmare. She was bound to the wall, her ankles cuffed in leather, her wrists up over her head, her buttocks pushed against the cold stone behind her.

  At first the stone had felt good. Now and then she twisted to let the air touch the soreness. Of course the abraded flesh was much healed from last night’s ordeal on the Bridle Path, but she still suffered, and she knew tonight she was surely destined for more torment.

  Not the least of it, however, was her own passion. What had the Prince awakened in her that after one night of no satisfaction, she should feel so wanton? It was the stirring between her legs that first brought her out of sleep in the Slaves’ Hall, and now and then she felt it as she stood waiting.