by Anne Rice
Slowly he lowered his eyes, and his hands went to his jewel-encrusted robe, and slowly he broke open a long multitude of hooks that were near invisible for the decorative gold and silver threads that concealed them. He opened his long robe a mere half of an inch and then he opened it all the way and dropped it to the floor to reveal his entire naked body.
Queen Beauty let out a gasp. I almost fainted. I have never fainted in all my life, but at this moment, I almost fainted.
There standing before me was a sight I’d never beheld in all my life except in statues or in old paintings.
Every inch of his magnificent skin seemed to shimmer in the light, and from his loins rose a cock nearly as big as that of the King, just as thick, and just as dark as it stood erect, but what had caused me to weaken and nearly collapse was not the dazzling beauty of all this, but of his breasts—his breasts which were as large as mine, as full and as round, and as high and as firm. His womanly breasts with their hard dark rosy nipples.
I was staring at a gorgeous androgynous god. And he regarded us calmly, his eyes moving from face to face, as we beheld him.
Queen Beauty gave another soft expression of shock.
The King wore a radiant smile, so like him, but his eyes were huge with obvious wonder.
I moved towards Lexius, this exotic being, this god, drawn as if by a chain, and then caught myself, caught myself as my hands reached out for his breasts.
“Oh, you may touch them, my adored mistress, if you wish,” he said.
I did.
I went up to him and I felt them, felt them as I would the breasts of any fulsome female slave under my authority. I squeezed them gently assessing their firmness, my fingers pinching the dark tender aureoles and the prominent jewellike nipples.
And then I stared at the cock, the hard crimson shaft, and I felt the passion kindled uncontrollably. Never had desire ripened so fast as it did in this instant. I buried my face in his breasts, pressing them to my cheeks and my lips. I slipped my arms around his naked form and held him to me, nuzzling and feeding off his breasts. I could not resist his nipples, and as I squeezed them, twisted them, challenged them with the firm play of my fingers, there came another astonishing revelation.
Pale drops of translucent milk began to flow from them!
I lapped at them with my tongue! I was going mad.
I stepped back as if to save myself from some engulfing madness in which all restraint would be lost.
He merely gazed at me with narrow smiling eyes. His hands hung at his sides. “Go on, my adorable lady,” he said softly. “Taste it. It is yours as I am yours.”
And I did. I suckled him hard, embracing him again, and felt the sweet and salty flavor of it.
“The milk of Aphrodite,” said the King.
I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his hard cock push against me, and I sucked and sucked as if I couldn’t stop, and the milk now was the smallest part of it. My right hand went down and felt his cock, as my tongue lapped at the milk, as my lips drew hard on his breast, and my desire swelled and burned until I was moaning.
How I managed to turn away, I don’t know. Except that I did. I remembered the King and Queen. I staggered away, and when I turned around again the King was making love to Lexius, kissing him, and kissing his breasts just the way he so often kissed mine, and he put his powerful hand on Lexius’s cock. And the King was moaning as I had moaned.
The Queen stared in shock with both her hands up to her lips. But her eyes were vague with wonder. No horror. No condemnation.
I turned and looked at Dmitri who stood in the shadows. He watched me, he watched all of us, but he said nothing.
Then, as if he could not prevent himself, he unfastened his heavy tunic at the shoulder and let it fall to reveal his shirt and trousers, and slowly he undid the ties at his throat and opened his shirt.
“They are much smaller,” he said in a small voice. “They are supposed to go away when the elixir is withdrawn. But they have never entirely gone away, and I conceal them, though I die every hour of every day for someone to touch them, someone besides me.”
The Queen reached out for him, and Dmitri drew close to her. And only now did I see the remarkable similarity of Dmitri and Lexius, see the same shimmer of the skin, the same long full hair, uncommonly long and proudly long falling to the shoulders, and both seemed to me great gods of Eros, surpassing all ordinary beings in their pursuit of joys that make the rest of us cowards.
The Queen put her right arm around Dmitri, and with her left hand she touched his small breasts reverently, and gingerly she touched his nipples. The blush was burning bright in his face, as he looked down at her.
The King and Lexius were now bound together in a hopeless embrace as the King drank the milk lustily and hungrily.
I turned away. I couldn’t contain myself. It was not only the desire thrashing inside of me like an angry serpent locked in the prison of my body, it was my soul, my heaving soul. Magnificent.
I went past the bed and towards the window. I sought the air, parting the heavy curtains, and I looked up into the night, the shining night of the half-moon and its drift of faint stars, and I sighed.
Behind me I heard the Queen’s voice. “And all men who serve must take this form?” she asked.
“Yes, my queen,” said Dmitri. “And how they throb with every wave of desire.”
“Oh, but you see, I know,” said the Queen. “For we share this, don’t we?”
“Yes,” he said. “Oh, yes.”
I lay my head against the stone arch, and felt the warm caressing breeze of the night, my eyes closed and my mind filled with vivid images. All men who serve.
The heavy window curtains had fallen shut behind me. Yet I could hear the creak of the bed, of its boards, and I heard the sudden muffled rhythmic cadence.
Through the tiny seam between the draperies I peered and saw Lexius on his knees, his back to the King, his hands out to the coffered headboard of the bed, as the King rode him, the King’s hands clutching at Lexius’s breasts, his hands squeezing them with greater abandon than he might ever enjoy the breasts of a woman. A god and a god.
I turned back to the night, alone in my closet of velvet hangings.
The harsh and driving rhythms of the bed came suddenly to the pinnacle in a great explosion of cries and groans.
Then silence, and in the silence distantly, the Queen’s sweet and subtle sighs and with them those soft shuffling indefinable sounds that meant another species of lovemaking. It seemed that in the very midst of this Dmitri was weeping.
In a ragged fervent whisper, he said, “My secret is yours, yours . . . yours.”
I slipped from behind the curtain and, cleaving to the margins of the room, I went to the door.
I looked back. The King lay as if in a dead sleep.
The Queen and Dmitri were a hopeless and tangled shape on the floor in the shadows before the leaping flames of the fire.
How dare I leave without permission? And yet I had to leave. Had to go. I opened the door and ran down the passage, and when I reached my room, I fell down on the bed, my face in the pillow.
Severin had come. Severin begged to know what I might want. Severin took off my slippers.
“Go,” I said. I was as one blinded by a fierce new light and could not just now look upon the old things, which had once seemed so wondrous.
Beauty waited. She sat by the fire. The night outside was mild and lovely as it always was, but here in this vast chamber the stone walls were damp, and the warmth of the fire, as well as its dancing light, soothed her.
Dmitri and Alexi sat with her in chairs opposite. Beside her sat Rosalynd, her beloved Rosalynd, buxom, pretty, and practical and truthful. Her slaves, Beauty had sent away, including her devoted Becca whom she already missed, but this was a time for privacy with her privy council.
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br /> I need them now so very much, thought Beauty.
Her farewells to Eva had been brief with unbridled tears and embraces. Eva had said again as she had so many times before, “I must go, Your Majesty. How can I not? How can I not go and see for myself!”
“Remember,” Beauty had said. “Our guards will be with you every step of the way and shall not leave you in Khaharanka until you yourself dismiss them. You can always return. The cohort will remain outside the walls waiting for your word.”
Beauty had cried but finally given her blessing. She had embraced Lexius for the last time as well, and as she looked into the flames she thought not of Eva or Lexius but of the future.
How am I to rule without her, without the one who made all my designs into reality, the one who carried out with vigor those proposals that were dreams to me?
Dmitri, Alexi, and Rosalynd had assured her that they would take the place of Eva. Elena was committed to this as well. It was Elena who had presided over the evening banquet, receiving the new guests, and showing her generous appreciation of all the special entertainments.
The slaves of the realm were at peace. None could guess how thoroughly Lady Eva had constructed the world in which they suffered and loved and thrived. But Beauty knew.
At last the King came into the room. He waved for all to remain as they were, no bows now in private chambers.
“Well, I did my best,” he said. He walked to the great fireplace and rested his hand against the stone, looking down into the flames. “I begged her not to go. I reminded her of all the inevitable perils. I assured her that I would seek to rescue her if I received the message. But how can any of us know what is to become of her? And I cannot raise an army to cross such vast seas. I’m afraid for her.”
“Have they gone?”
“Yes,” said the King. “I implored them to go tonight. I implored them not to let another sun rise on the same talk, the same pleading, the same tensions. They won’t go far tonight, but they’re gone, once and for all. It’s been the most trying week since we came. I’m glad it’s over.”
“Yes, and you did all that you could,” said Beauty. She looked at him, marveling at how untroubled he was, how certain that the future would not be changed by Eva’s going, his certainty that the kingdom had a great destiny as before, and that what Eva had chosen to do could only hurt Eva.
But this was the way with Laurent. Beauty knew this. Yes, he loved with a special love. But he was not to be undone by Eva. As he had said, Eva’s work had been completed. It was Beauty who had introduced the greatest innovations, and the staff which now presided over all the kingdom was as dedicated and efficient as always.
“Now, Beauty,” he said, turning to her. “I won’t hear any more of grief or doubt. You are to give up at once on this mad idea that Bellavalten will suffer without Eva. The kingdom is too strong for such a thought. And the love of our subjects for you is too great for you to doubt it. Not another word on this.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Beauty. She gave him her most knowing and taunting smile. It was the smile she always reserved for such moments, when he was dictating to her in the presence of others as to how she must feel in her soul. But she loved him. Loved him so much, and so unwaveringly.
He shook his head and gave back his own reproving smile and then he bent to kiss her.
“Queen of my heart,” he said. “In a matter of months you will wonder why you ever feared the loss of Eva.”
He rose to his full height again and stretched and then shook himself all over. He looked at Dmitri and Alexi.
“Who wishes to agree with me?” he asked. He was to some extent teasing, but it was like all teasing in that there was a truth to it.
“I agree completely, sire,” said Alexi. “What this means is more meetings, more councils, a few more appointments. And that is all. We shall miss her but she leaves no ragged hole in the fabric. The fabric has already begun to mend.”
“Yes, that is what I wanted to hear,” said the King. “Now if there is nothing more for me to do here, I’ll go down and join Elena.” And with one more kiss for Beauty he was gone, leaving the room with the same easy stride with which he’d entered it.
How long, thought Beauty, shall I keep them here, my beloved companions? Is it really their task to comfort me when I’m beyond comforting? She had heard their many predictions and assurances all week long.
“No one expects you ever to pretend to feel that which you do not feel!” Alexi had said over and over again. And Dmitri, more reticent but of the same mind, had said more than once, “You rule with perfect grace. That is what matters.”
So why did it matter so to Beauty that she could not experience raptures when she exacted alluring shudders and whimpers from her charges? Why did it trouble her that from the throne she did not know the exaltation she had known when she had been a naked slave of others?
It was unseemly to her to call some cruel and demanding master to her private rooms, as Laurent had done so easily with Eva. She did not want that, the inner shame of being the Queen naked and on her knees before another. Indeed, what she knew in Alexi’s arms and in Dmitri’s arms was rapture beyond imagining. It was different, that was all. Different, their caressing, their play, their shared enjoyment of the slaves she kept for her own amusement. So what was lacking?
She resolved she would not again complain of losing Eva.
“I have a thought,” she said. “An idea. Something I would like to see, something special, not for every night but for one very special night.”
“Ah, I can’t wait to hear it,” said Alexi.
“Your wish is my command,” said Rosalynd.
Ah, she loved the soft informal voices of those who trusted her and were close to her.
“We have talked a lot of the Discipline of the Mask,” she said. “Explain how it goes just now with those who ask for it.”
“Well,” said Dmitri, “there are five so far, three lords and two ladies. And they wait as before for your permission. I’ve spoken to each of them, as you ordered, and I think they are apt candidates—all in fit condition, comely, and with an undeniable aptitude for service.”
“You want to tell me now who they are or must I drag it out of you?” said Beauty, but not in a mean voice, no never in a mean voice. She made a little gesture of welcome with both hands as she smiled at Dmitri.
“Lady Juliana,” said Dmitri. “How long ago did she return? It’s been six months, I think?”
Beauty nodded. “Lady Juliana. What a fearsome creature she was when I first came here and such a friend to the late queen. But you know, she did originally come here as a royal slave, and as a royal slave she was sent down to the village for punishment, only to be elevated and made a lady-in-waiting by the Queen. And that is what she is with me.”
Dmitri nodded. Alexi had his usual slightly mocking and knowing smile. He certainly hadn’t forgotten the beautiful blond Juliana who’d driven Beauty on the Bridle Path the first time long ago.
In those days Juliana had worn her hair in long thick braids threaded with pearls. And now she wore a great braid encircling her head behind which her blond hair was exquisitely coiffed in waves, and the old threads of pearls were there and her face was as pretty as ever, and her voice just as lilting.
“So she wants to take the Discipline of the Mask,” said Beauty. “Prince Roger will find that most interesting, as they were once slave runaways together. And she was elevated to the Court without him.” Prince Roger was fast friends with Prince Richard in the village.
“Yes, Roger is aware and he does find it amusing,” said Dmitri. “And they’ve spoken of it as openly as you and I are speaking now. She knows what she wants, my queen. I have no doubt that she’ll do well with the Discipline of the Mask. What we need are rituals . . . how to anoint these Disciples of the Mask, and what rules to apply to their tribulations.”
“I have many ideas,” said Rosalynd. “I say we need a special day on which such persons can appear naked and masked before the Court to be anointed.”
“I like that idea,” said the Queen. “As it was in the old days with Midsummer Night.”
“Yes, and we might have more than one such festival; perhaps three or four a year,” said Dmitri. “Perhaps one every two months. We could see how it goes as more of the old royal slaves return to the kingdom.”
“Another is Princess Lynette,” said Dmitri. “You might not remember her, my queen. She ran away and was never caught. Well, she’s been back more than once. The Queen pardoned her and welcomed her to Court ten years ago.”
“I remember her,” said Beauty, and well she should since she had received her with Laurent. But it was quite impossible to remember all the names and faces of those they received nightly. The Lord Chamberlain had his lists, his proper titles, his little histories. And that was a good thing, for Beauty could not recall right now just what precious Princess Lynette looked like.
“But you know who she is, don’t you?” she said to Alexi.
He laughed. “I certainly do.”
Lynette had featured heavily in a long story Alexi had once confided to Beauty—of how he had been broken and taught to please the Queen. Blond hair, blue eyes. Yes, that much Beauty now remembered.
“I would say she knows what she wants too,” said Alexi. “We’ve both spoken with her and Lady Juliana. They’re ready for the mask. They’re asking only for a limited time, say six months of slavery, and then a chance to renew their vows, like all the other slaves.”
Beauty nodded.
“Now for the three lords,” said Dmitri. “The first is Prince Jerard, the blond one, who was a pony in the stables after you left. And he knows perfectly well what he wants. No doubt about him. He understands that once he dons the mask, he will have no choice in the matter of where he’s made to serve, but he wants to be a pony again. He’s fit enough. And frankly handsomer than he was in the old days. And then there is a young duke, Claudio, only lately come to the kingdom. He’s very innocent but he’s spent the last eight months here and knows well what all this means.”