Chapter 37

Julia and Bill were present at that Christmas gala. They had finally returned home late in the fall. And their return was something else, indeed.

It was an unseasonably warm late fall day on the Saturday they arrived back in Essex. And being a Saturday, and Essex being as prosperous as it was, the streets were crowded with shoppers when two black horses appeared.

There were Julia and Bill on Satana and Satan. The couple looked simply marvelous! Both had deep tropic tans, and Julia’s blonde hair had been sun-bleached close to white. It was so lovely! Julia was on the right with Bill to her left. The couple wanted to be close, and they were because Satan and Satana wanted to be close, too. Those two horses were something else! They didn’t walk, they pranced with their necks arched proudly.

But that wasn’t all. Just behind and slightly to the side of the two beautiful horses were two of the most beautiful colts anyone had ever seen. Clearly, they were Satana’s foals; the filly was behind and to the right of Satan, while the colt held a similar position with his mother. The truly remarkable thing was that neither of the colts was secured in any way; they didn’t even have halters. But they too were prancing along with their necks arched, marching down the center of the main street.

As the people became aware of the little procession — who could not have been? — cheers rose up. Here was their beloved Princess Julia and Prince William, the hero of the barbarian siege, back from their honeymoon. It was just so great!

When they reached the castle, Kate, Bill and I were at the palace steps to greet them. Bill jumped down and then caught Julia in her arms as she jumped, too. At that instant, I realized that, like Kate and Bill, Julia and my Bill had become a single person. The love shared by those two was palpable.

And while this was going on, the four horses were standing proudly and as still as statues. They were magnificent! When the five of us started back into the palace, young Bill ordered grooms to remove the tack from Satan and Satana. As they started, I realized for the first time that neither of the two big horses had bits. But they didn’t need them. With the tack removed, the two parents led their offspring to their private pasture. Open a gate? What for? The two just jumped the fence and the colts followed. Possibly the only domesticated horses in the world who took care of themselves. Oh, well...

Once back in the royal apartment, our reunion truly was joyous. It must have taken almost half an hour to complete the round of everyone kissing and hugging everyone else. Utterly wonderful!

It was late in March of the following year that the news reached us: King Gustav IV of Slobovia — my husband — was dead!

That news was followed by a flurry of activity. First, both Bills, Kate, Julia and I had a council of war. Several things were decided, the first at my insistence: the Kingdom of Slobovia had come to an end; from now on, it would be the Kingdom of Wessex. At that point, we were all surprised when Julia revealed artistic talent that no one — including, I’m almost certain, Julia herself — knew that she had. She immediately began to sketch out a coat of arms for the newly-renamed kingdom.

Second, young Bill left to alert his battalion to be ready to travel within two weeks, and ordered his engineer company, organic to his battalion, to leave immediately to prepare housing for us in Wessex for when we arrived. Frankly, I couldn’t bear the thought of having to spend so much as a single night in the palace of horrors that was Slobovia Castle.

With that settled, I thought about the future and murmured, “Oh, shit!”

“And what was that all about?” Kate inquired.

“That’s about money is what ‘oh, shit’ is all about,” I replied. “More specifically, the lack of same. Let’s face it, daughter: We both now know that you have been absolutely correct and those geniuses from the Kennedy School have been totally wrong. The way to increase tax collections is to cut tax rates.”

“So what’s the problem?” Kate asked with just the hint of a grin on her lovely face.

“The problem, my darling daughter, is that I have no money at all, and I’m virtually certain that Wessex has none, either.”

“Mother dear, you are the answer to a maiden’s prayer...” She paused and mused, “After having my brains fucked out for hours every day for years now, do I still rate as a maiden, I wonder? Oh, well...” With a lovely grin she continued her original line of thought. “Mom, what is Essex’s biggest financial problem?”

I slowly shook my head and said, “I really wasn’t aware that Essex had one.”

“Oh, yes we do! And you know we do. We’re being buried under a mountain of money is the problem. And, my dearest mother, you can help us with our problem. You can take a few cartloads of gold back to Wessex with you.”

Being the kind, considerate mother I’ve always been, I took pity on my suffering daughter and agreed to take some of her money off her hands.

The engineers left immediately for Wessex and we had intended to follow as soon as we could organize the move. But that was not to be. Everything we did seemed to be like wading in molasses. Of course, the feeling was heightened because of Gus’s death and the fear that Slobovia — now Wessex — was spinning out of control.

It was almost four weeks later when finally we were ready to leave. Bill’s battalion of mounted infantry was formed up with one company in the lead and two companies following the royal party. (Wow! “The royal party”! Sounds impressive as hell, doesn’t it?) Bill and Julia were mounted on Satan and Satana. Their two colts, now named Imp and Cherub, were left with Bill and Kate. Believe it or not, they found a handsome chestnut stallion for me to ride, too. He had a lovely new saddle, too, but his was in natural tan, while Satan and Satana had the magnificent black saddles Mike had given them for their wedding. Can you imagine? A pony riding a horse? But that’s what I was doing. Oh, yeah ... There was none of that side-saddle shit, either. Both Julia and I wore Levi’s along with Wellington boots. Believe it or not, we actually wore new chambray shirts with the tails tied beneath our tits. (Of course, the term “new” is relative; by that I mean the shirts had been fabricated during my lifetime.)

It was a clear bright spring day as we moved out of the castle, rode through town and then out into the countryside. It was only then that I realized the degree to which I had isolated myself from everything around me. Signs of life — both natural and economic — were all around me. Wild flowers were blooming in the fields while farm families were engaged in their spring plowing. Wherever we went, we were greeted with waves, cheers and general good wishes. Indeed, it was a lovely day to be alive.

This continued until we came to the border with Slobovia, now Wessex. The contrast across an imaginary line (actually, the border was a small river) was incredible. Wessex was destitute! Moreover, as we moved along — on terribly maintained roads — it was clear that the peasants didn’t know what to make of us. Admittedly, the mounted infantry were a splendid sight. The interval between the ranks and files was exact and precisely maintained whether we were walking our horses or cantering.

Although I wasn’t recognized — my appearance had changed far too much since I was last in the country — I was soon identified as Queen Matilda. All I can say is thank God for the Queen’s Own! If looks could kill, I would have been dead within a quarter of a mile of where I was first identified. And the word traveled faster than we did. It just got worse. Clearly, in their eyes, I was the most-hated individual alive on the face of the earth. And you know what? From what I learned later, I fully deserved that title.

Finally after several days of travel, we neared the town of Wessex, formerly Slobovia. In spite of the troops doing everything humanly possible to make our overnight stops as pleasant as they could, both Julia and I were ready for a shower and a bed.

Our troops led the way into the town and then on to the main square. There large numbers of people had gathered, waiting. We soon learned what it was they were waiting for: executions. A platform or stage had been hammered together in the center of the square. There were six positions there for a person to put his head while awaiting the headsman’s ax. Along with the headsman and a group of dignitaries there were six naked young women chained together. Clearly, they were the guests of honor at the day’s upcoming festivities.

As we dismounted, Julia took several long steel rods from her saddlebags. Together, Bill, Julia and I mounted the steps to the platform.

We were regarded with wonder. Clearly, no one present knew who we were. On the other hand, we were obviously important, witness the full battalion of mounted infantry accompanying us, although Bill immediately took two companies and rode out. The remaining troopers dismounted and took up positions around the square. As they did, I realized that there were a large number of Slobovian (Wessexian) troops present already. The contrast between the two groups was like night and day. The Queen’s Own looked like what they were: a highly-trained, well-disciplined fighting force. On the other hand, the Wessexian troops looked like what they were, too: a bunch of thugs.

“I am Matilda, Queen of Slobovia,” I announced.

Then I waited while some engineers set up a portable sound system so I could speak to the crowd. They were good and they were very fast. Moments later, a microphone was put in place and I repeated my initial statement.

I continued, “People of Slobovia, I have two announcements to make:

“First, effective immediately, the name of this kingdom is changed. It is now the Kingdom of Wessex.

“Second, with me — although not right now — is my son, William. He will be the next king of Wessex. With me is my daughter, the new Crown Princess Julia, who will become your queen. However, since Prince William will not attain the age of 21 for nearly two more years; until that time I shall serve as Queen Regent of Wessex.

“Are there any questions or objections?” I asked. I waited while there was nothing but silence from the crowd. Finally, I continued, “Hearing none, we will proceed.”

Turning to the group of well-dressed men standing on the platform I asked, “And who might you gentlemen be, and what is the reason for this gathering?”

“I am Sir Sidney,” one of them replied, stepping forward. Then proudly he announced, “I am the First Minister of the Kingdom.”

“And the reason for this gathering... ?” I prompted.

“To execute these sluts, of course,” he replied.

“And their crime?”

“The crime of fornication!” he proudly declared.

“Fornication with whom?” I persisted.

“Why ... with the late king, of course,” he replied, stating what was to him at least, the obvious. “And they’re underage! All of them!” he continued triumphantly.

“Oh, I see...” I mused. “The late king had sex with these underage women, so they must die. Is that what I heard?”

“Of course!”

“And the witnesses to this?” I asked.

“Witnesses? What witnesses?” Sir Sidney responded.

“The witnesses to their fornication,” I explained.

“But ... but ... but there were none,” he sputtered.

“Oh ... I see,” I said thoughtfully. (At least I thought I sounded thoughtful.) “We are executing these young women for a capital crime that no one can even be sure ever was committed. Hmm...” Again I paused. “And then, of course, we have the small matter of having sex with underage young women. Do we punish the perpetrator? Of course not. He’s dead. Instead we punish his victims.” I paused to let that sink in a bit. “My, what strange things pass for justice in this kingdom.” Then with my eyes blazing, I added, “They are to be freed!”

“But, Your Majesty,” Sir Sidney protested, “we must have an execution! We can’t disappoint our citizens. They took the whole day off from work to come and see it.”

“Oh...” I commented thoughtfully. Then I continued, “By the way, Sidney, you and your colleagues are out of jobs, effective at once. Over the last few days I have traveled the breadth of our nation and find conditions to be disgraceful. This government is dismissed!”

“But, Majesty, we were promised...” he began, but then ran down.

“Promised what?”

“King Gustav IV promised us we would be elevated to the peerage if we would stay on as ministers. We did, so...”

I thought for a moment and then allowed myself a broad grin. (I suspect it was a bit wolfish, but no matter.) “Capital!” I declared. “I will elevate you to the peerage! And then I will have you beheaded for malfeasance and misfeasance in office.” Then with a lovely smile (at least I thought it was; Sir Sidney might have had a different opinion) I continued, “This will allow us to kill two birds with one stone. You will have your peerages, and the people will have their executions.” Then I frowned and said, “Oops! I am afraid that that was a rather infelicitous aphorism, wasn’t it?”

Sir Sidney and his colleagues turned gray.

“Well, Sir Sidney,” I inquired, “which is it to be? A peerage and... ?” I looked pointedly at the headman’s blocks. “Or your immediate resignations?”

For some reason, they all elected to resign.

When we first mounted the platform, Julia had given whatever it was she had taken from her saddlebags to the headsman. He had a brazier burning and had stuck the objects in it to heat. But now Julia came forward and went to the microphone.

“People of Wessex,” she declared, “I have four announcements to make:

“First of all, effective immediately, the tax rate in Wessex will be reduced to 5 percent.

“Second, because of the oppressive weight of taxation in this kingdom over the last few years, there will be a tax holiday this year. No taxes will be collected, and any taxes already paid will be refunded.

“Third, we shall begin immediately to buy the young women of this nation out of the slavery into which they had to sell themselves to help you get the money to pay those oppressive taxes. My loving husband, Crown Prince William, has already left with two companies of mounted infantry to begin the process; and

“Fourth, also effective immediately, the armed forces of the former Kingdom of Slobovia are to be paid off and disbanded.

“Are there any questions?” she concluded.

Her announcements had been greeted by a stunned silence. Julia stood there proudly and waited. Then she stripped off her shirt, shoved her Levi’s down over her hips and stepped out of her boots. Nodding to the executioner, she knelt down with her buttocks in the air and rested her neck on the block. Then she waited.

Only then did I realize what it was Julia had given the man. They were branding irons. “Stop it!” I commanded. “Julia, what are you doing?” I demanded.

She raised her head and looked at me with her blue eyes blazing. “Mother, I must!” she declared and then lowered her head back to its former position.

I looked for support from Bill, but only then did I remember that he had already left with two companies of troops to begin the repatriation of the female slaves.

Julia shifted her weight to fully expose her right flank and waited. The executioner took a branding iron from the brazier and put it in position. Smoke started to rise from Julia’s flank, but all that happened was that the girl’s back arched as she absorbed the agonizing pain that I still remembered so well. Slowly she tapped her right hand on the plank as her body was seared. At the fifth tap, the executioner raised the branding iron and his assistant poured water over Julia’s now blazing ass.

All Julia did was to take several deep breaths and then rearranged her body to expose her left side. “Do take care to ensure that it’s in the same relative position as the one on the right, won’t you?” she said to the executioner.

“Yes, Your Highness, I certainly will,” he assured her.

Taking another iron from the fire, he applied it to Julia’s body. Again her back arched, but she didn’t make a sound. Again she tapped out the time, and again the executioner’s assistant had to extinguish the fire on her flank when the iron was removed.

After taking several deep breaths, Julia rose from the block, turned to the executioner and said, “Thank you, sir. That was a perfect job.”

Then moving stiffly — how she could move at all, I don’t know — she went to the mike and announced, “I am now a Wessexian! I will carry the Arms of Wessex on my body for the rest of my life. I am a Wessexian!” she repeated proudly.

Then the executioner did something that amazed us all. He went to the mike — although he had no idea what it was — and shouted, “Three cheers for Crown Princess Julia! Hip, hip...”

The crowd cheered, “Hooray!” Unbelievable!

Then it was repeated twice more.

While this was going on, the executioner’s assistant had been removing the fetters from the young women on the platform. When the cheering subsided, the oldest of the girls moved into the position Julia had just vacated. She knelt there with her ass high and waited.

“What are you doing?” Julia demanded when she realized what had been going on.

“We are preparing to serve you, Your Majesty,” the girl replied. Then to the executioner, she ordered, “Do it! I’m waiting.”

The executioner did. And, like Julia, all the girl did as her body was seared was to arch her back, but she kept time by tapping the flooring. When the awful business was complete, the second girl took her place, but the first, rather than returning to the others, just put her hands on the girl’s shoulders to hold her in place. The second girl’s behavior mirrored the first’s.

They were followed by the third, then the fourth, and then the fifth. But the two eldest girls stayed at the blocks and held the younger girls in their arms while they were being branded. Finally, it was the turn of the youngest, who later I learned was not yet 12 years old. Her right flank was branded and she could barely contain a choked-off cry. When the iron was applied to her left cheek, though, the girl gasped, then screamed. She didn’t move though, although then she began to cry like her heart was broken. Finally, the awful process was complete.

Only then did I look out at the crowd and realize that apparently more than half the people had already left. Although they had come to witness executions, the sight of beautiful girls being tortured was more than they could stand. Thinking about what I had seen, I realized that these young women had gained the admiration of the crowd.

The child rose from the block and moved toward the whipping post. As she started toward it, the oldest girl — the first branded — moved her aside and said, “I will take Judy’s strokes. She’s much too young.” Apparently the girl’s screaming was to be punished by whipping.

At that instant, something came over me. Stripping off my own clothing, I moved the girl aside and said, “No! I will accept the punishment for this child.”

The youngest girl, Judy, came up to me and exclaimed, “No! I was at fault. Punish me!” she ordered the executioner.

Shaking my head, I ordered him not to. Then, when I took the position, the girl came into my arms. I held her tightly and kissed her. As our lips met and merged, I barely felt the whip scoring my back. The little girl was crying in my arms while still kissing me.

She eased her lips away from mine and whispered, “Why?”

“Because you are my daughter,” I replied. Where that answer came from, I have no idea. But that’s what I said. As I felt the whip cutting into my back, I felt even more strongly the child’s lips moving over my body. She kissed my breasts and licked my nipple rings. I absorbed the ten strokes without really feeling any of them.

I released the child and turned around so that I could be whipped across my tits. The child moved close behind me and began to kiss and lick the whip cuts across my back. She put her arms around my waist knowing that her hands and arms could be cut by the whip. But that was of no matter to her. The whip cut into my breasts, my stomach, then across my pussy and down to my thighs. Every time it struck, I could feel the child wince, but she just pulled her body even closer to mine.

Finally, it was over. I thanked the executioner for his trouble and for his skill with a whip.

To my surprise, he then led the crowd in three cheers ... for me! Unbelievable. While this was going on, the girl — only a couple of inches shorter than five feet at the time — asked, “Why? Why did you do that?”

“Because it’s a mother’s duty to protect her child,” I replied. Where that statement came from, I have no idea, either, but that’s what I said.

“Mother?” the girl asked. I looked into her lovely blue eyes and saw ... I really don’t know what I saw, but it certainly looked like love and Divine grace.

“Yes, my darling daughter. You are my daughter. I am your mother.” That was another statement on my part from out of the blue somewhere.

The “entertainment” was over. The eight of us — now all naked — descended the steps from the execution platform and headed home. I suppose it must have been odd to see seven newly-branded women and one who had just been whipped, all naked, walking down the middle of the main street.

“The people of Wessex might as well get used to seeing me walking around naked,” Julia commented. “The fine folks in Essex certainly are by now.”

The youngest, Judy, walked beside me holding my hand. She was oblivious to the streaks of blood — my blood — across her body. The two of us were bringing up the rear. Then Judy stopped suddenly, and pulled me to a stop, too. Turning to me she asked, “Could I have another kiss, please?”

I looked down into her brilliant blue eyes that were wide with wonder. “Why?”

“I ... I ... I want to see if your kiss is as good as I remember,” the girl replied. Then she shook her head and added, “It really can’t be, but I want to see how close it is.”

I took her in my arms ignoring the stabbing pain in my tits as she compressed her body to mine across my still-bleeding whip cuts. She raised her head and tilted it. I kissed her gently at first, but then with increasing power. Then I did something I had wanted to do from the first: I probed her mouth with my tongue.

Writhing her body against mine, I could feel her tongue meet mine and start a dance of love in her mouth. The instant our tongues made contact, I felt that marvelous electricity flow between us. I just increased the power of my kiss to see what would happen. What happened was that Judy increased the power of her own. And so it went. I don’t think she was trying, but she almost put me out. Pulling her even tighter against my bloody body, I began to move mine in counter rotation to hers. The feeling was heavenly. Finally we eased apart to breathe.