Chapter 18

My darling bride, there are no words I can say to express my gratitude for your support during the trial. There is absolutely no way I could have managed without you. If I live 1,000 years, I will always remember your hand gripping mine, your winks, your nods of encouragement, your wisdom and your humanity. Frankly, Kate (I give up! You are my darling Queen Kate.), I used to think that the greatest day of my life was the day you appeared before me for the first time. Now I realize it was just the beginning. Every time I think you could not be better, you are! My darling, you are my whole life. I cannot live without you.

Now that the mush is out of the way, Kate, what am I doing for a living? I no sooner adjourn the court for lunch — it was only eleven-thirty — when you go to Leila. Seeing her sitting patiently on her stool waiting for the guards to return her to her dungeon cell, you call the guards. Then, without even a glance at me, you order a blacksmith to appear at once to strike off her wrist manacles and ankle fetters. The guard retreats and a few moments later returns with the blacksmith carrying his portable anvil and tools.

In the meantime, Leila had been merely watching. I guess she hadn’t really been paying attention, while she thought about the delicious(?) food that would be served to the prisoners. (Come to think of it, they are fed only twice a day, in the morning and evening. I guess she wasn’t thinking of the food after all.) When she started to protest, you merely raised an eyebrow and asked, “Slave Leila, what is a slave’s primary duty?”

“To please her master and mistress,” she replied automatically.

“Thank you,” you replied. “It will please me for your bonds to be removed.” To the blacksmith, now standing there waiting, you imperiously command, “See to it at once!”

The guard made one last effort. “Your Majesty, we will only have to put them on again this evening. Are you sure you want them removed?”

“What does she need them for when she’s in a jail cell?” you asked.

The poor man was obviously confused. “But ... but ... there are no cells, Majesty.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “If there are no cells, where is she kept?”

“Along with all of the other prisoners,” the guard replied. To him it was the only place for her to be. Clearly, he had no understanding of your line of questioning.

“You mean the other female prisoners, don’t you?”

“Oh, no!” he replied, now becoming visibly upset. “This prisoner is the only woman we have. She’s kept with the others.”

“But if she’s chained, how can she go to the bathroom? She’s wearing a long garment, after all...”

At this point Leila entered the conversation. “Perhaps I can help, Mistress. There’s obviously a breakdown in communication. First of all, I am kept naked and chained to the wall.”

With a little smile toward the guard she continued, “But the guards have been very good to me. There is now enough slack in my wrist chains that I can move to the side when I need to urinate or defecate. The slack is even great enough for me almost to be able to sit on the floor.” Now she smiled at you, darling, and added, “It’s so much nicer now than it used to be. At first, there was no slack, and I had to remain standing. To make it even worse, I was having my period and it really did bother me to be constantly bleeding in front of all the men.”

She shrugged and added, “On the other hand, I was standing straddling a pile of my own shit, so I guess I really wouldn’t have cared to sit down, anyway.”

Since we were both close to Leila, I had been aware of an unwashed smell coming from her body. “But what about washing?” you asked.

“Every week they hose down the cell,” Leila replied, “and they hose down the prisoners, too, at the same time...”

“How long have you been imprisoned,” you interrupted.

“Almost two weeks,” she replied. “I was hosed down three days ago and then they lengthened my chains. They are so nice to me!”

At that point you turned to me and glared. My darling, there were green icicles in your eyes when you said, “Husband, our prison is going to be rebuilt ... starting this afternoon! Hear?”

What could I do? I just shrugged and agreed.

In the meantime, the blacksmith positioned Leila’s manacles on his anvil and with two mighty blows severed them both. Leila was sitting on the stone floor by this time. When she shifted to put one of her slender ankles on the anvil, you got a glimpse of her wrist. Instantly you were on your knees beside her, holding her hand in yours. Honestly, my darling, her hand is exactly like yours — slender with lovely long fingers — except for being smaller.

“My darling, look!” you exclaimed, holding up her hand. I was almost sickened as I’m sure you were by the sight of festering sores where the manacles had been attached to her wrists. Her ankles were the same way.

With her fetters removed, you led her away toward our apartment. When the guard protested, you brusquely told him that you were taking charge of the prisoner. Accompanied by Susan Hastings and Julia, you went to our bathroom and closed the door in my face ... after telling me to advise the appropriate parties that the court was adjourned for the day and would reconvene at ten the following morning.

My darling husband, you are truly a prince among men. Instantly, without the need to exchange a word, you knew what I was planning to do. Initially I had intended to put Leila in the baby swimming pool that passes for our bathtub, but as soon as I eased her garment off her body, I realized she was filthy. So instead I led the way into our shower. At this point, husband, I was at a loss. Although we have dozens of shower heads positioned on three of the walls, I was afraid that the spray would be too hard on her torn-up body.

While I pondered the problem, Leila asked what was wrong, and I told her. She had been studying the controls, too. Activating the “All Heads” switch, she just went into the shower and let the needle-sharp sprays wash over her body. I quickly moved to join her, followed by Julia and Susan.

No sooner am I in the shower than Leila has a bar of my favorite soap and begins to lather my body. Since I am a good eight inches taller than she, she looked up to my face and murmured, “Queen Katherine, you are a wimp!”

I tried to raise an eyebrow as I replied, “There are two things wrong with that statement. First, my name is Kate! It is not, repeat not, Katherine. That’s Kate: K-A-T-E, Kate. It’s short; it’s simple, and it’s easy for even a no-mind like you to pronounce. Second, as your former slave ... For that matter, Leila, did Gilbert ever refund the money you paid for me?”

“No, Your Majesty, he did not ... That cheating son of a bitch!”

With a grin I continued, “Therefore, I’m still your slave, Leila Jones, and you do not call a slave, ‘Your Majesty.’ Clear? To you, Leila, I am Kate ... unless you prefer Dumb Cunt, or...” Leila had no response, so I continued, “And by the way ... if you address me by a title or honorific again, something very terrible will happen to you. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied with a quirky grin. “I understand completely.” At that point I took the soap from her hand and being as gentle as I could, began to wash her body. “Your Majesty!” she protested. “What are you doing?”

“Leila, are you really a retard?” I retorted. “What in hell does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to get a few layers of filth off your body before I really try to clean it...”

“But you can’t!” she interrupted. “I am your slave and must wash you...” She slowly shook her head and said to Susan, “My darling, look carefully at our queen ... and the crown princess, for that matter. Women cannot possibly look better than they do.” Looking up into my eyes she asked, “May Her Grace run her fingers lightly over your body, Majesty?” She paused and then added, “Since she is a noble, too — a duchess — would that be possible?”

“Touch away, Susan,” I replied. Susan Hastings is already taller than her mother at about five feet five, and still growing. It is probable that she will be about Julia’s height — five feet eight — by the time her growing stops.

Anyway, the lovely girl came close and very diffidently ran her fingers lightly over my entire body. When she came to my breasts, her touch was as light as a feather. I reminded her that I am not at all breakable and asked her to squeeze my tits. Fearfully, she did as I asked.

Then with a beaming smile she exclaimed, “Mommy, our queen’s tits are almost as firm as yours!”

At that point I pointed out, “Susan, I have instructed your mother to call me Kate. Since you are Duchess of the North, and ward to my husband, the king, and myself, I think it would be appropriate for you to address me as Aunt Kate. Could you bring yourself to do that?”

The girl positively beamed with pleasure. “Aunt Kate, nothing could possibly thrill me more! You see, as far as I know, I have no living relatives except for my mother here. I would be utterly overjoyed to call you Aunt Kate!” Then with the cutest little smile she added, “Could Aunt Kate give her newest niece a kiss? A little one, maybe... ?”

Taking the girl in my arms, I mashed her slender young body to my own. The instant I did, she began to move against me, trying to maximize the contact of her flesh with mine. My darling, it was utterly fabulous! Our lips met, and I darted my tongue into her mouth. After a little dance, our two tongues met, and there was such a surge of electricity, I almost collapsed. There was joy and love and Divine grace in her kiss. Unbelievable! Finally easing away I could only murmur, “Wow!”

“Mommy!” Susan exclaimed. “Aunt Kate kisses with almost as much power and love as you have in your kisses. She’s unreal!”

At that point I suggested to Julia that she take Susan to the new guest apartment that we had built off our own. “I can take a hint,” Julia replied. “You want to be alone with Aunt Leila, don’t you?”

“Good thinking, Imp!” I replied. After a quick kiss, Julia was out of the shower and leading Susan by the hand. They left a trail of wet footprints as they went through our bedroom and out the door.

Turning my attention back to Leila I returned to the subject of washing. “Slave Leila, to rehash old territory, what is a slave’s primary duty?”

“To make her mistress happy in any way she can,” the girl replied.

“Fine! And it would make me happy to wash your filthy body. Okay?” Leila just nodded.

I began to wash her body as gently as I could. Only then did I realize I hadn’t previously noticed that her nipple rings were still in place. I guess I had been too preoccupied with the whip cuts scoring her entire body. Anyway, I ducked out of the shower and then returned with heavy wire cutters that made short work of the soft gold. An instant later I had pried the severed ends apart and removed them from her nipples. Dropping to my knees in the shower, I took each of her nipples in my mouth in turn, kissed, licked and nibbled on them. When I ran my tongue over them, I could easily feel the hole. Through all of this, Leila said absolutely nothing, but then I realized that tears were flowing from her eyes. I just ignored them.

It took me four washings with shampoo to get the first layers of dirt from her hair. (Thank God she had cut it. Had she not, it would have taken all day!) Instead of applying conditioner, I led her by the hand out of the shower and out on the new giant terrace that had been built while we honeymooned. There we went into the brand-new sauna. After pouring water on the fiery coals, the small room quickly filled with steam. As sweat began to pour from our bodies, I took a stick and as carefully as I could began to scrape her body.

Shaking her head in disgust, Leila commented, “My God! How incredibly filthy! How can you stand to touch me, Your Majesty?”

Rather than responding, I continued to work on her until there was little other than new flesh exposed. By this time, both of us were literally dripping sweat on the floor. When I idled down the sauna and opened the door, she grinned and said, “Thank you! I’m smaller than you are, Your Majesty, and most of what little of me there is has already gone down the drain!”

I jumped feet-first into our small refrigerated pool and waited. Leila jumped in after me, at which point I popped out. As she was about to follow, I said, “I think you should cool off a little first, Leila. Why don’t you just stay in there for a while?”

Believe it or not, she did! In fact, she let her body sink so her head was fully submerged and rinsed her hair with her fingers. Finally, I had to grab her arm and haul her out! Holding her hand, I returned to the shower and ran it as hot as I could stand. Then as I hugged the girl close I could feel her uncontrolled shaking as she slowly defrosted. “Why did you stay in that freezing water?” I asked.

“Because you told me to,” she replied simply.

When her body temperature returned to normal, I led her from the shower and ordered her up on a massage table. This was my first real opportunity to work on her body since I had been enslaved to her. What a difference! My darling, her body is even more solidly muscled than my own, if you can believe it! But I also found that she had been feeling tension far beyond what she had been willing to admit. It seemed to take forever to knead the muscle knots from her body, particularly when I tried to avoid as many of the cuts as I could. Then I put antiseptic on her cuts along with pain-killing ointment. When I did, she just sighed with pleasure and wriggled under my fingers. Finally, I finished by working as much musk oil as I could into her luscious body. And truly, Master, Leila Jones’ body is luscious!

As I was about to lead her out of the bathroom, do you know what she did? She said, “Not so fast, Your Majesty!”

Then she imperiously pointed to the massage table. Although I was a bit apprehensive, I climbed on and lay on my back looking up at her. She just slowly shook her head and picked up the musk oil. Using it exclusively, she gave me the massage of my life! Her fingers that had been so sensitive in the shower — she did wash me, finally — were now like steel rods.

“What utter perfection!” she murmured.

When she finished my front, she rolled me on my belly and worked on my shoulders, arms, thighs and buttocks. She even had the temerity to insist that I pull my knees up under my body to raise my ass. Then she spread my asscheeks and very carefully worked the oil into my asshole! Can you believe it? But is that all? Hell, no! She commented, “It’s clear that your husband fucks your ass regularly. I’ve never seen a woman with such a stretched anal ring.” (And she said it. I didn’t!)

Finally we finished and returned to our bedroom. There I called for Ellie to bring us lunch. When it appeared — two deli-style roast beef sandwiches, and two beers — it was all Leila could do to keep from wolfing hers down. But first she sipped her beer in a rather strange way. Putting the two together, I asked, “When did you eat last? And last have anything to drink?” She had had water the night before — her last drink! — and no food for nearly forty-eight hours. I called Ellie again. In moments she was back with two more sandwiches and a large pitcher of lemonade. I figured — correctly, as it turned out — that Leila could drink that much more easily than she could drink beer.