"I may...talk to you then?" Beauty asked.
"Yes," he said. "I'm your groom. In a way, I belong to you. Each slave, no matter how he or she ranks or pleases or displeases, has a groom, and that groom is devoted to that slave, to that slave's needs and wishes, as well as preparing the slave for the master. Now, of course, there will be times when I shall have to punish you, not because I take pleasure in it, though I can't imagine punishing a more beautiful slave than you, but because your master may order it. He may order you punished for disobedience, or merely readied for him with some blows. But I will be doing it only because I have to..."
"But do you...do you take pleasure in it?" Beauty asked timidly.
"It is difficult to resist beauty such as yours," he said, rubbing the oil into the backs of her arms and into the crevices of her elbows. "But I should much rather groom you and care for you." He put down the oil and gave her hair another brisk rub with the towel, adjusting the pillow under her face.
It felt so good to be lying here, with his hands working on her.
"But as I was saying before, you may ask me questions when I give you leave. Remember, when I give you leave, and I have just given it."
"I don't know what to ask," she whispered. "There is so much to ask..."
"Well, surely you must know already that all punishments here are for the pleasure of your masters and mistresses..."
"Yes."
"And that nothing shall ever be done which truly harms you. You will never be burned, nor cut, nor injured," he said.
"Ah, that is a great relief," Beauty said, but in truth she had understood these limits without being told. "But the other slaves," she asked. "Are they here for various reasons?"
"Sent as Tributes mostly," Leon answered. "Our Queen is very powerful and commands many allies. And of course, all Tributes are well fed, well guarded, well treated just as you are well treated."
"And...what happens to them?" Beauty asked tentatively. "I mean, they are all young and..."
"They're returned to their Kingdoms when the Queen so wishes, and obviously very much better off for their service here. They're not so vain any longer, they have great self-control, and often a different view of the world, one which enables them to achieve great understanding."
Beauty could scarcely guess what this meant. Leon massaged the oil into her sore calves and the tender flesh behind her knees. She felt drowsy. The sensation was growing ever more delicious, and she resisted it slightly, unwilling to let that craving between her legs torment her. Leon's fingers were strong, almost a little too strong, and they moved to her thighs, which the Prince had reddened with his strap as much as her calves and bu**ocks. She shifted slightly against the soft, firm bedding. Her thoughts slowly cleared.
"Then I might be sent home," she asked, but it had no meaning for her.
"Yes, but you must never mention it, and certainly never ask for it. You are the property of your Prince. You are his slave entirely."
"Yes..." she whispered.
"And to beg to be released would be a terrible thing," Leon continued. "However in time you will be sent home. There are different agreements for different slaves. Do you see that Princess there?"
In a great hollow in the wall, on a shelf-like bed, lay a dark-haired girl whom Beauty had noticed. She had olive skin, richer in tone than that of Prince Alexi who was also dark, and her hair was so long it lay in rippling strands over her bu**ocks. She slept with her face to the room, her mouth slightly open on the flat pillow.
"Now, she is Princess Eugenia," said Leon, "and she must be returned in two years by agreement. Her time is almost up and she is broken-hearted. She wants to remain on the condition that her continued slavery will save two slaves from having to come here. Her Kingdom might agree to these terms to keep back two other Princesses."
"You mean she wants to stay?"
"O yes," Leon said. "She is mad for Lord William, the Queen's eldest cousin, and can't bear the thought of being sent home. But there are others who are ever rebellious."
"Who are they?" Beauty asked, but before he could answer, she added quickly, though trying to sound indifferent, "Is Prince Alexi one of those who is rebellious?"
She could feel Leon's hand moving towards her bu**ocks, and now suddenly all those welts and sore places were brought to life as his fingers touched them. The oil burned slightly as Leon added droplets of it generously, and then those strong fingers commenced to work the flesh, with no regard for its redness. Beauty winced, but even this pain had its pleasure. She felt her bu**ocks shaped by his hands, lifted, separated, and then smoothed again. She blushed to think that it was Leon doing this who had been talking to her in such a civilized manner, and when his voice went on, she felt a new variant of agitation. "There is no end to it," she thought, "the ways of being humiliated."
"Prince Alexi is the Queen's favorite," said Leon. "The Queen cannot bear to be separated from him for very long, and though he is a model of good behavior and devotion, he is, in his own way, relentlessly rebellious."
"But how can that be?" Beauty asked.
"Ah, you must put your mind on the pleasing of your Lords and Ladies," Leon said, "but I shall say this: Prince Alexi appears to have surrendered his will as a fine slave must, but there is a core in Prince Alexi that no one touches."
Beauty was enthralled by this answer. She thought of Prince Alexi on his hands and knees, his strong back and the curve of his bu**ocks as he had been driven back and forth across the Prince's bedroom; she thought of the beauty of his face. "A core in him no one touches," she mused.
But Leon had turned her over now, and when she saw him bending down, so close to her, she felt bashful and closed her eyes. He was rubbing the oil into her belly and into her legs, and she pressed her legs together and tried to turn to the side.