And quickly the gray-haired man placed a large block of smooth wood beneath her belly. She could rest her weight on it and she did, as he forced her knees wide apart and then stretched out her legs so her knees didn't touch the table at all, her ankles bound by leather to the edges. Now her wrists were treated the same. She kept her face hidden as best as she could, weeping.
"You will be silent," said the man icily to her, "or I shall see that you cannot be anything else. Do not misunderstand the Queen's leniency. She does not gag you only because it amuses to Court to see your mouth as it is, and to see you struggle with your own willfulness."
And now, to Beauty's shame, he raised her chin and placed beneath it a long thick wooden chin rest. She could not lower her head, though she lowered her eyes. And she saw all the room about her.
She saw the Lords and Ladies rising from the banquet tables. She saw the immense fire. And then she saw this man, too, with his thin angular face, and gray eyes that were not as cold as his voice, but for the moment seemed even to evince tenderness.
A long shudder went through her as she contemplated herself -- spread out, yet mounted so that all could inspect even her face if they chose, and she tried to conceal her sobs by pressing her lips together. Even her hair was no covering, for it fell evenly on either side of her face and cloaked no part of her.
"Young one, little one," said the gray-haired man under his breath. "You're so frightened and it's useless." There seemed a little warmth in his voice. "What is fear, after all? It is indecision. You seek some way to resist, escape. There is none. Do not tense your limbs. It's wasted."
Beauty bit her lip and felt the tears sliding down her face, but she was soothed by his speaking to her. He smoothed back the hair from her forehead. His hand was light and cold as if he were testing for a fever.
"Now be still. Everyone is coming to see you."
Beauty's eyes glazed over, but she could still see the distant thrones where the Prince and his mother were talking to one another quite naturally. But she realized all the Court had risen and was moving towards the dais. The Lords and Ladies were bowing to the Queen and the Prince, before turning and coming towards her.
Beauty squirmed. It seemed the air itself touched her naked bu**ocks and the hair between her legs, and she struggled to lower her face demurely but the firm wooden chin rest would not yield and all she could do was drop her eyes again.
The first Ladies and Lords were very near and she could hear the rustle of their clothes and see the flash of their gold bracelets.
These ornaments caught the light of the fire and the distant troches, and the dim image of the Prince and the Queen appeared to flicker.
She let out a moan.
"Hush, my darling dear," said the gray-eyed man. And suddenly it was a great comfort that he was so near to her.
"Now look up and to your left," he said now, and she could see his lips spread into a smile. "You see?"
For one instant Beauty beheld what was surely an impossibility, but before she could look again, or clear the tears from her eyes, a great Lady came between her and this distant vision, and with shock, she felt the Lady's hands upon her.
She felt the cool fingers gathering her heavy br**sts, and twisting them almost painfully. She trembled, trying desperately not to cry out. For others had gathered around her, and behind her she felt a pair of very slow and calm hands parting her legs even more. And now someone touched her face, and another hand pinched the calf of her leg almost cruelly.
It seemed her body was all concentrated then in its shameful and secret places. There was a throbbing in the tips of her br**sts, and those hands felt cold as if she herself were burning, and now she felt fingers examining her bu**ocks and prodding even at that tiny and most concealed of openings.
She couldn't help but moan, but she kept her lips tightly shut, and the tears fell down her cheeks.
And for one instant she thought of nothing but what she had glimpsed an instant ago before the procession of Lords and Ladies had intercepted her vision.
High up along the wall of the Great Hall, on a broad stone ledge, she had glimpsed a row of naked women.
It had not seemed possible, but she had seen it. They were all of the young like herself, and they stood with their hands clasped behind their necks as the Prince had taught her to do, and their eyes were down, and she could see the glow of the fire on the curl of pubic hair between each pair of legs, and the swelling, pink ni**les of their bosoms.
She could not believe it. She did not want it to be so, and yet if it were so...well...again only confusion. Was she all the more terrified, or was she glad that she was not the only one enduring this unspeakable humiliation?
But she could not even think of this, shocking as it was, for the hands were all over her. She had uttered a sharp cry to feel them touching her very sex, and smoothing the hair there, and then to her horror, as her face burned and she shut her eyes tight, she felt a pair of long fingers gliding into her sex and widening it.
It was still sore from the Prince's thrusts, and though the fingers were gentle, she felt that soreness again.
But the most excruciating part was being opened like this and hearing their soft voices now as they talked of her.
"Innocent, very innocent," said one, and another that she had very lean thighs and that her skin was resilient.
That seemed to produce laughter again -- that light tinkling laughter, as if all of this were but the greatest amusement, and Beauty realized suddenly that she was straining with all her might to close her legs, but it was quite impossible.
Those fingers were gone, and now someone patted her sex, and pinched shut the hidden little lips, and Beauty squirmed again, only to hear the laughter coming now from the man beside her:
"Little Princess," he said gently in her ear, leaning over so she could feel his velvet cape against her naked arm, "you cannot hide your charms from anyone."