Chapter 15

Katherine ... Kate, something must be done! Who is the monarch around here, you or me? (Don’t you dare answer!) No sooner do we finish the discussion of the Conference and Slobovia, when there was a commotion in the antechamber. Do you just leave the matter to our staff? You? Hah! Leaving your scarcely-touched breakfast, you hurry to the door and summon the chamberlain. (In whose eyes you now rank above the saints, and possibly above the angels and archangels, too!) Moments later — and obviously against his better judgment — a family is ushered in. Do you remain seated in queenly fashion by my side? Do you await the homage of our subjects? You? Hah!

Seeing the family ushered in, you’re out of your seat in a flash and taking the woman into your arms. When she tries to fall to her knees in the presence of her sovereign, you will not allow it. Instead you accompany them to the table and call for comfortable chairs to be brought over. It is a family of five, the Wallaces, the farm family whose lives you saved last winter. More correctly, it is the Wallace family of four, along with Susan Hastings, Duchess of the North, now looking utterly exquisite and fully recovered from her near-death experience.

Although you call for food to be served, before anything can be brought out, Jean Wallace is out of her chair, around the table, and kneeling on the floor between us. “Your Majesties,” she said softly, “I am just in time. The baby had a bottle this morning instead of nursing at my tit so I could be sure my breasts would be heavy with milk when I arrived. Just feel!”

With that, she opened her cloak and revealed her bare upper body. And you, Kate? Did you scream and order her from the room? Did you call for the guards to have her thrown in the dungeons for having the temerity to bare her bosom to her king? Did you? Hell, no!

You exclaim, “How incredibly luscious!” Then you carefully weigh her heavy milk-laden tits in your hands, look up at Jean’s face and ask, “May I?”

The girl is so thrilled, all she can do is eagerly nod her head. Wasting no time, you take a nipple into your mouth. It’s obvious to me you did a lot more than just drink. Poor Jean had to hold on to the backs of our chairs to keep from collapsing. I can only conclude you kissed her nipple, tongued it, and gently nibbled on it while still drinking from it.

After a number of minutes, you raised your head and licked some of her milk from your lips. “What did you do, Jean?” you asked. “Never have I tasted anything so sweet or so rich!”

“Oh, Mistress!” the girl exclaimed. “It worked! I’ve been experimenting with my diet ever since Bob decided that the time has come to bring Susan here to the castle. When I nursed you last time, I was just out of my sickbed; my milk couldn’t have tasted very good. I wanted it to be ever so sweet today for your coffee and cereal. Am I in time? Or is it already too late?”

“It certainly is not too late!” you exclaim.

Do you let it go at that? You? Hah! You order a fresh pot of our finest Columbian coffee, then carefully milk her tit into each of the four cups. Then you add it to cereal for all seven of us! (But I have to admit it was truly memorable. Never have I tasted sweeter, richer milk!)

But that still doesn’t excuse you for overriding the castle staff. We can’t have every stray urchin coming in to see us, after all.

Oh! There’s one more thing: Kate, I adore you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me or to our kingdom. (You notice, I said “our kingdom.” More accurately, I guess I should have said “your kingdom.”) Kate, I really do love you more than life itself. Accordingly, I thought it only fair to tell you we are going to be married a week from Saturday. I thought you might want to get a new dress or something.

First of all, thank you, Master, for using my correct name, Kate. As for overriding the castle staff, how else could we ever know what’s going on in the kingdom? (In this connection, to avoid any unpleasantness, I have left standing orders that anyone wishing to see us is to be admitted immediately.)

We’re being married? Thanks a hell of a lot for letting me know. I guess you could have told me the day of the ceremony, though. But after all, I am only a slave, so what else should I expect?

Speaking of slaves, I must tell you about Leila and Susan. First, as you may or may not know, Gilbert is no longer with us. It seems that Betty and Tom Murphy have bought a farm and are using Gilbert as their beast of burden. Betty tells me that Gilbert broke very easily to the harness and the plow; his time as a pony has stood him in good stead.

As a result, Leila now pulls the pony cart alone. Because of her diminutive size, though, its carrying capacity is now substantially reduced. However, Susan Hastings (the Duchess of the North), simply loves it. Every day, Leila is harnessed and Susan drives her out through the gate right after breakfast. Normally, they don’t return until sundown.

After seeing this happen for several days in a row, I made up my mind to follow them. I ordered Satan saddled and followed Leila and Susan out of the castle. First of all, I must speak to Susan. She’s much too free with the whip. She seems to delight in cracking it over every inch of Leila’s body that she can reach. But anyway, I followed them. There were two remarkable things about the trip out. First, they went out almost ten miles — quite a distance for a small woman to pull that cart alone. But second was the speed with which Leila pulled it. Regardless of the whip cracking over her body, she maintained a steady pace for the entire distance with her knees coming up high at every step, I should add. Believe it or not, Master, the pace was even a trot for Satan as we followed them. And you know how big he is, and how long his stride is. Nonetheless, that’s what Leila did.