Chapter 20

My darling husband, you were unbelievably good! In fact, I’m thinking seriously of taking back a few of the nasty things I’ve said in the past about your kingship. (But just a very few!) What was so good, really, was that we now think so much alike. Although I guess that’s no surprise. Darling, do you remember all the times we conversed on our island without saying a word? Increasingly, Love, it is as if we are two people sharing a single brain! And I adore you. And by the way, what is going to be Kate’s opening of the hour tonight? Leila has prepared me so beautifully. And paid particular attention to my asshole, as a matter of fact. Might you possibly be interested in some bumfucking? As I write these words, I can feel an itch in my asshole. It wants you ... desperately! Interested?

At any rate, you suspended your narrative at the point where Leila flatly refused her freedom. It seemed that nothing was going to change her mind, and we both know, given her tolerance for pain, that she can be amazingly stubborn. (And don’t you dare say one stinking word about me!) But at that point, Susan Hastings came into the picture. She had been sitting on a love seat beside Julia. When it became apparent that Leila was adamant, she rose, went to you and dropped to her knees before you. “Your Majesty,” she began, “I wish to sell myself into slavery. Since you are my guardian, I will need your permission.”

“Are you sure, Susan?” you asked softly. “It’s ... quite harsh.”

“I know, sire, but I should bring a good price at auction.” Then with a beautiful smile she added, “And I sincerely hope that you will bid me in. Since Gilbert is now a draft animal on the Murphy’s farm, you need another slave to pull the pony cart. And I believe I would be perfect in the rôle.”

“But Susan,” I said, entering the exchange, “you will have to be branded and have your nipples pierced. Then there’s the dildo stuck up your ass ... Are you sure?”

“Indeed I am!” she exclaimed. “Have you seen what slavery has done for my mother? How could she have done the things she’s done otherwise?”

“But the whippings... ?” I added.

“A small price,” she replied. “Besides, I’m much too soft. Furthermore, as Mom could tell you, I’m also much too free with the whip. I need more than a taste of it myself. And—”

“Susan, what are you saying!” Leila screamed. “You are a virgin! You are a noblewoman! There’s no way—”

“It is so ordered,” you say in your most judicious manner, interrupting Leila’s outburst. “Tomorrow morning, Susan, you will be stripped and placed in the stocks at the slave market. And remember to behave yourself and show off your lovely little cunt to maximize the money we receive—”

“I give up,” Leila interrupted dejectedly. “I’m no longer a slave. I accept my freedom.” Then looking around the room she added, “It’s all a damned plot.” Then to Susan she said, “Wait till I get you alone, young lady! You are going to get the beating of your life—”

“It certainly will be, Mom,” Susan interrupted. “You see, I’ve never been spanked. Ever!” With a lovely grin she added, “And I’m sure you will agree, dear mother, that it is long, long overdue!” Then with the cutest little smile I’ve ever seen she added, “And it better be really good, too! First of all, I’ve been an unmitigated little shit — especially where you’re concerned. Second, you’re very strong. I know you seem to be able to absorb limitless amounts of punishment. Since I am your flesh and blood, I think I can, too. And I really want to find out. Please? Tonight?”

Leila just shook her head in frustration.

Rising from my chair, I took Leila by the hand and said, “Darling, I think we need to take some time to repair the damage.” With a small grin I added, “You look like you’ve just been through another war.” And in fact, she really did. The emotional shocks of the evening had had her going like a roller-coaster. After suggesting that you and Mike have another drink and the girls might go off somewhere — an idea they both greeted with delight — I said we would be back in an hour or so.

Leading Leila by the hand, we returned to our bedroom. Once there, I eased her gown over her head — frankly, it was pretty beat up from her being on her knees before you — and looked her over. I noticed that the gauze compresses were still in position on her shoulders and quickly learned why. Scabs had formed on her cuts bonding them to her body. If you can believe it, she was about to just rip them off — and rip up her body still more in the process — when I stopped her.

You will be proud of me, Master. Maybe my service as Chancellor of the Exchequer has made me frugal at long last. At any rate — possibly because of the huge quantity of musk oil I dumped in our bath water earlier — rather than draining it out, I actually saved it. (Aren’t you proud of me?) At the same time I had activated the new heating element we had installed so we can now soak in the tub — and play by the hour — without the water growing cold.

Anyway, we both got in the tub, and I let the very warm water work on Leila’s body. My darling, I did for her what you so often do for me: I sat on the step and rested her head in my lap while her body just floated in the oil. At the same time, I gently caressed her tortured tits with more of the oil. In no time, she was making the most wonderfully contented sounds. She sounded exactly like a contented kitten. “Leila Jones, how could I possibly be as wrong about you as I was?” I asked softly. “Would you believe it? I used to think you were a brainless airhead with her taste in her feet!”

“That’s only because that’s exactly what I was ... and still am, for that matter,” she murmured. “And somehow, someway, I’m going to get even with you and Bill for allowing me to live, too.”

At that point, darling, I almost cracked up with laughter. The juxtaposition between her harsh words and her sleepy-sounding voice was hilarious. Of course this was coupled with her eyes being closed and her body seeming to move by itself almost following my fingers. It was as if her body wanted to maintain its contact with my gently-moving fingers.

“No, Leila, you’re wrong,” I said softly. “And I must confess to watching you with Susan, too. My darling, it was truly a sight to see! I have never seen a mother and daughter love one another the way you and Susan do. And you teach her so much! Leila Jones, you know everything.”

“That’s because I stay up late every night trying desperately to stay a chapter ahead of her, is why,” she responded in the same half-asleep tone. “And for that matter, all I’m doing is what I see you and Julia do constantly. (Is that true, darling? Do Julia and I look like Leila and Susan?) Dearest Kate, Susan and I are but a pale and very weak imitation of the love you and Julia share. But you do serve as our model, so please don’t change...” Her voice had died down like a run-down phonograph. I was almost certain she was asleep.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to take Mike inside you tonight?” I asked her softly. By this time her eyes were closed and I was studying the luxurious length and fullness of her eyelashes which looked like twin fans against her deeply tanned cheeks.

“Darling Kate,” she replied with her eyes still closed, “if my skin had been flayed off, I would take him ... assuming he could stand to take me.” Then her eyes opened and she looked up into mine. Darling, there truly was fire burning inside. “Kate, do you think Mike will accept me as his mistress?”

When I said I didn’t think he would, she was crushed — I could see it instantly in her eyes. After all, my darling, who could handle a mistress with a wife as passionate as Leila? And she will be Mike’s wife.

After soaking in the tub, I helped her out and gave her another massage. My darling, I think I’m pretty strong, particularly after our glorious honeymoon, but I’m fairly sure she’s stronger than I am. And that’s in full realization of the fact that I’m eight inches taller and about twenty pounds heavier.

Anyway, after doing her breasts and loins — and using another quart or so of musk oil — I rolled her on her belly and worked on her shoulders, back, buttocks, and thighs. By now she was about three-quarters asleep and just moaning as I worked out a particularly recalcitrant muscle knot. (It’s a good thing I thought of the bath and massage. The poor girl was just a mass of knotted muscles, reflecting the emotional turmoil she had just been through.)

She jerked up like a stretched bow, though, when I (not so casually) mentioned that today is Susan’s birthday. “She’s thirteen today — a teenager,” I commented. When Leila tried to jump off the table, I said softly, “Cool your jets! (What’s a jet?) Everything is under control. Do you think for one moment I would allow a mother not to have a birthday present for her daughter when she reaches her teenage years?” I just continued to massage the oil into her body, paying particular attention now to her asshole. “This doesn’t look like it’s been used much,” I commented.

“You’re right. It hasn’t. And that’s only because I’m a shitty saleswoman,” Leila said softly, again relaxed. “Heaven knows, I’ve tried hard enough to get Mike to fuck me in the ass, but I’ve had no success.” Then she changed the subject and said, “I apologize, Kate. I should have known you would be taking care of everything for me. God knows, you always do. But would it be too much to ask for you to tell me what I’m giving her?”

“A couple of little things, darling,” I replied. “One is your nipple rings. I asked the royal jeweler to remake the gold rings into earrings for Susan. I think she’ll really love them, too. They will have gone from the nipples you used to nurse her to her ears into which you pour your knowledge and wisdom. What do you think?”

“I think she’ll need to have her ears pierced,” Leila replied. Then she shook her head — or as much of a shake as she could manage with her head lying on the massage table — and added, “But, no. That’s already taken care of, isn’t it? Julia?”

“It must be the sadistic streak she inherited from me,” I replied. “Then there’s another gift from you that will be a surprise to both of you. Finally, there’s one thing I would like you to do as soon as we’re out of here.”

By this time, I had completed my work on her body, so I helped her off the massage table. We both giggled merrily as I supported her while she tried to walk. Master, my massage must have been extra good; her leg muscles were so relaxed, they refused to support her weight. After seating her in front of my dressing table, I began to brush her hair. It is utterly magnificent! I suppose it’s basically brown, but there’s very little brown left. The fact is that she has every color imaginable from brown through blonde to almost platinum. Coupled with her urchin’s cut, the color streaks are incredible. And coupled with her magnificent piercing gray eyes ... Unbelievable!

Anyway, I brushed it vigorously while Leila studied herself in the mirror. “I don’t really look so terrible anymore, do I?” she asked softly.

“You silly goose!” I exclaimed. “You are a vision!” Then I left her for a moment, went to the closet and returned with another dress.

She examined it, then looked puzzled. “Kate, you’re very slender, of course, but you’re incredibly muscular, too. You can’t wear this dress, can you?” Then she looked at it more carefully — it was a pale yellow — and then added, “And the color really isn’t right for you, either.” Then she turned on the stool, looked up and said, “What on earth did you buy it for?”

“The word is ‘who,’ not ‘what.’ As in, ‘Who on earth did you buy it for?’ And the answer, silly, is you, of course. With your incredible hair coloring and gorgeous gray eyes, it will be utterly magnificent!”

Initially, Leila was startled by my response. Then she looked at the gown and its construction more closely. “Kate, get real!” she finally exclaimed. “I couldn’t wear this! It ... it ... it shows everything!”

“You’re right, it does,” I agreed. “On the other hand, when you wear it to a palace ball, please don’t urinate on the floor ... It ... it ... it disturbs... some of our more sedate and sheltered guests.”

“Kate, dear, I have a request for you,” Leila said with sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“And what might that be?” I countered.

“May I please retroactively withdraw every nice thing I’ve ever said about you? Please? Queen Kate, you are a shit! S-H-I-T, shit! And you’re a sadist, a mean, nasty bitch—” While she was still talking I bent over and melted my lips to hers.

My darling, it was funny, really. There she was, still trying to talk, while our lips met. Again I probed her mouth with my tongue, and again, when it made contact with hers, there was a high-voltage shock. With our mouths still joined in a kiss, she rose from the stool and came into my arms, mashing her still-naked body against mine. When we finally eased apart, we clung to each other for mutual support. Neither of us was at all confident of her ability to stand unsupported.

Finally she looked up at me and said softly, “Just because you kiss me and turn me into warm mush... very happy warm mush ... doesn’t change anything. You’re still a shit, Kate. Can I help it if I can’t help adoring you, sadistic shit that you are?” Then she just lightly ran her fingertips over my bare body, nodded her head firmly and added, “A physically perfect, lovable, sadistic shit.”

Then she looked even more carefully at the construction of the gown I had shown her and noticed that, although it appeared to be ordinary, in fact its skirt was made in two discrete pieces with a front and a back. The two pieces were only joined at the waistband. She looked puzzled for a moment and then beamed. “This is made so that my brands will show if I spin, or extend my leg to the side, right?” I just nodded my head rapidly. “And all that holds it up is this tiny halter cord. It looks like it’s cut down to my navel in front and past the crease in my buns in back. Is it?” Again I nodded. She just shook her head slowly and said, “This is a vicious plot, isn’t it, Kate? I know you. You did it to get me to stop walking in front of every swinging whip in the kingdom, right?”

“You’re right!” I replied emphatically. “At this year’s Christmas Ball, you’re going to be a smash!” I paused and then said, “Of course for Christmas, I think I’ll have another made for you in red. How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds neat!” she replied with real enthusiasm. (My darling, there’s hope for her yet!)

By now we were ready to rejoin you, but I wanted her to do something for me first. After giving her a pen and some of my best writing paper, I asked her to compose a note to accompany her gifts to Susan. I am certain Susan will love it. Leila wrote:

My darling daughter Susan,

You are flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood. This comes to you with all the love a mother can possibly convey...

“Do you think she’ll like it?” she asked.

“No, darling Leila, Susan won’t like it...” Leila’s face fell, but then I continued, “ ... she will utterly adore it! In fact, I’m willing to wager that she will love the note far beyond your very thoughtful gifts.”

By this time I had carefully replaced the gauze pads on her shoulders and produced another white gown for her to wear. Like the first, it had an Empire cut with a tuck under her full breasts but otherwise hung loose and free. Made of the finest lawn, it was translucent on her body, and displayed her lovely nipples and even her sun-streaked pubic patch. When she objected, I told her that she was much too badly cut up to wear even a bikini. (Wasn’t that quick thinking on my part, darling?)