Beauty's Kingdom
Page 58

“The Queen wants her in harness and trained,” said Georgette. “Oweyn, you’re too soft. You always were. Now you wouldn’t hesitate to spank any experienced little pony who was sobbing like this.”
“You’re right,” said Oweyn. “Now, Sybil, you behave. Georgette’s going to wear you out with her paddle and you need it and deserve it.”
Sybil sobbed into the pillow, barely able to keep her lips shut, and suddenly with all her might she struggled. She couldn’t help it. It just happened. She struggled wildly, though never really trying to stand up or run. But Georgette’s paddle came down hard on her backside.
As soon as she felt the next spank, she went limp, and as a whole series of smart spanks came down upon her, she found herself utterly subdued and moaning softly, utterly delivered up by her own soul to the chastening pain. The pain was warm and tingling and she felt herself undulating under the paddle, and deep moans came from her chest. Oh, how right they were that she needed this, this thudding assault that reminded her of her nakedness, of her hopelessness, and of her great desire to please.
Suddenly Georgette’s cool fingers kneaded her bottom, and squeezed each cheek. Then the paddle came again with one fierce resounding blow after another.
“Keep those feet on the ground, young lady,” said Georgette. “We’re not anywhere near finished with this. Prop her chin, Oweyn, so I can see her face. Excellent.”
Sybil shut her eyes as Oweyn lifted her face, smoothing her hair back. She could feel the tears dripping from her face.
The spanking resumed. This time she caught it on the thighs as well, hot sizzling spanks that caused her to gasp. But all resistance had left her. Only the paddle moved her, pushing her slightly this way or that with the force of the spank, or making her backside jump reflexively. She had become her body in a wordless way, become her private parts, her hindquarters, her bouncing bottom, and her quivering hungry sex.
“That’s better now, much better,” said Georgette. “Oweyn, I can tell you with this one a spanking every morning and every night is absolutely required, no matter what else the Queen wishes. This is a high-spirited and delicate girl.”
“Georgette, it’s good to have you back,” said Oweyn, “but I always spank them all. Every single one of them. Always have. No matter how tired I am, I make sure they’re all well spanked every night, and in the morning, they get the worst spanking, I can assure you. Now you know me, George.”
“Now Sybil, I’m going to bit you and harness you,” said Georgette. “Up on your feet, now.”
“Well, a little cream first,” said Oweyn. At once his hands went to work on Sybil’s backside.
She struggled to stand up straight, Georgette’s firm left hand cradling her chin, and Oweyn holding her by the hip as he rubbed the cream into her.
“Nice and hot,” said Oweyn. “And a becoming shade of pink. Sybil, your skin is precisely the kind the Queen fancies.”
“You must tell me what else she likes,” said Georgette.
“Well, I will as we go along. This little bird the Queen’s been taming on her own, she and a little buck who came in with her, and that sturdy little god you won’t believe. Both have very black hair, and lily-white skin. But the Queen likes quite a few other combinations as well.”
With every word, Sybil’s sex throbbed. When Georgette’s fingers again stroked her pubic hair, she winced. She had never dreamed how long she might endure in an exalted state of torment.
“Open your eyes, young lady,” said Oweyn. “Take a look around yourself, and then eyes down.”
Sybil was shaking with suppressed sobs. She opened her eyes and in a blur she saw the magnificently tall figure of Georgette—with soft curly reddish-brown hair cut very short, short as an old Greek god, and long bright gray eyes. Taller than Oweyn, she was quite slim and her hands were long and tapering as they passed before Sybil’s dazed face, reaching to smooth Sybil’s hair back from her temples. There was something terrifying about her, about the blending of masculine and feminine in her, about her naked neck above her manly collar, and the obvious strength of her hand.
And there was the muscular Oweyn, with his happy smiling face as his fingers cradled Sybil’s backside and rubbed it and he whispered how pretty she was.
“Legs apart, young filly,” said Georgette. “That’s it. You never press your legs together, do you hear, not with a plump red little sex like that. Haven’t they taught you this already? If Her Majesty wants you to squeal with pleasure for her, that will be her choice. For me, you behave yourself.”
Georgette gave a firm slap to Sybil’s pubis and then another.
“No, stand still, no twisting away when you’re spanked or slapped ever,” said Georgette, but the voice was patient.
“Now I’m going to let you go,” said Oweyn, “and I want you to stand firmly on your own two feet, and then stamp one foot and then the other.”
Sybil began to weep all over again. It seemed impossible that she was standing. Why had she not collapsed? It was just as Brenn had described it so well, this feeling of melting, of delicious and engulfing shame. She had nothing to lose now, nothing, no dignity, no secrets, nothing held back. She stood still because she was commanded to do it.
A soft cloth wiped at her cheeks and her nose.
Georgette had slipped behind her but Oweyn stood in front, inspecting her obviously, feeling of her thighs with hard pinches.
“She’s a good strong little girl,” he said. “Highborn, well bred, small hands and feet, but strong, strong as lilies are strong with strong stems.”
Suddenly something hard was forced into Sybil’s mouth.
“That’s it, between your teeth,” said Georgette. “Bite down. It’s soft leather, and it’s been rubbed with a nice sweet taste, that’s it. Open wide and bite down.” And suddenly Sybil had been bitted and the bit had long reins and she felt them lying over her shoulders.
“Now, this is just for your mistress or driver to get you to lift your head, and to jerk you to attention. But the leads that guide you to turn will be fitted to these straps on your shoulders.”
The harness came down around her, its straps being fitted around her arms, across her breasts but above them, and then buckled tight in back.
“When you feel the tug on your shoulder, you turn to left or right, accordingly. You don’t think. You turn.”
Sybil nodded but the spill of sobs from behind the bit sounded all too shamefully like a complaint. The paddle cracked her backside hard again.
“You want another spanking right here and now?” asked Georgette. “I’ll be glad to provide it. I love to spank bad little fillies. I have a nice strong strap I can use, if that works better. And I can hold you upside down by one ankle, too, if you force me to do it.”
Sybil didn’t dare shake her head yes or no. She’d been taught in etiquette class never, never to make that mistake. All she could do was shiver and quiet her sobs.
More straps were being fitted to her head, running from under her chin over the top and then around her forehead. The reins attached to the ends of the bit were run through loops on these straps. She could feel all this, but not see it. All she could see was the ground right before her, and the legs of Oweyn and Georgette as they went about their work.
Then there came the firm prod of a phallus against her anus, something smooth and very well creamed or oiled, prying open her tiny secret nether mouth and then being inserted into her.
“Now this is made of wax, girl,” said Georgette, “and a good size. In the old kingdom they were all the same size and often too big. But Lady Eva has these molded and made every day. And all must pass Lady Lucinda’s approval. And this one’s perfect for you. And it’s got metal loops embedded in it for the harnessing.”
Sybil jumped but caught herself. The soft swishing horse tail moved against her thighs. It was streaming out of that little phallus and the phallus was being anchored tight inside her by the straps that ran between her legs and then up across her belly to be hooked to a broad girdle being fitted to her waist. With a few tugs she was firmly wound up in these leather straps, but could feel the pull of reins running through a hook in the phallus.
Another agonizing wave of desire passed through her, heating her breasts, hardening her nipples, and her sex throbbed again with hungry spasms. She could feel it in her ears, this pounding pull that seemed to originate not in her heart but in her loins. The straps running from the phallus were against her pubic lips, and pressed them together, but not enough to alleviate the desire that burned through her, burned even her face and made her face go soft suddenly, her tongue playing on the bit, her eyes closing.
“Now that looks lovely,” said Georgette. “Blindfold, Oweyn.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Oweyn.
Oh, but I can’t run with a blindfold, thought Sybil desperately. How could she tell them? She’d lose her balance. It had always been so. But there was no need. The blindfold was over her eyes, and she could see through it, see the world in a soft golden light, and there was no need to look down away from the indistinct figures who adjusted her straps and petted her comfortingly.