Beauty's Punishment - By A. N. Roquelaure & Anne Rice Page 0,58
without hesitation. I don’t welcome again those tender groomings and all that flattery. I’d rather be thrown over the Captain’s horse and taken out to the camp and tethered to the hitching post there and used that way as I have been.”
The image flashed brightly before Beauty. “Has the Captain of the Guard taken you?” she asked shyly.
“0, yes, of course,” he said. “But never fear. I saw him last night. And he’s quite in love with you, too, and when it comes to Princes, he likes them a little heartier than I, though now and then ...” He smiled.
“And you have to go back to the castle?” Beauty asked.
“I don’t know. Mistress Lockley is in great favor with the Queen because much of the Queen’s garrison lodges here. And Mistress Lockley could keep me here, I think, if she paid for me. I earn much for the Inn. And any time I’m sent to the Punishment Shop the customers there pay for my penance. There are always people gathered there, having coffee, talking, women sewing ... watching the slaves spanked one by one. And though the Master and Mistress must pay for the service, the customers can add ten pence for another good licking if they desire it. I’m almost always licked three times there, and half that money goes to the shop and half to my Mistress. So I’ve earned back my price many many times by now and could earn it again if Mistress Lockley wants to keep me.”
“O, I must be able to do it too!” Beauty whispered. “Maybe I have proved too obedient too soon!” Her mouth twisted in anguish.
“No, you haven’t. What you must do is endear yourself to Mistress Lockley. And you don’t do that with disobedience. You do it with a good show of submission. And when you go to the Punishment Shop—and you surely will, as she hasn’t the time to paddle us properly every day—you must put up the best show you can, no matter how hard it is. And in some ways its harder than the Public Turntable.”
“But why? I saw the turntable and it looked dreadful.”
“The Punishment Shop is more intimate and less theatrical,” the Prince explained. “The place is crowded, as I told you. Slaves are lined up on a low ramp along the left wall, each waiting as we waited this morning. Then there’s the Master with his attendant on the little stage, hardly four feet off the floor, and the tables with the customers are right up against the ramp and the stage, and the customers are laughing and talking amongst themselves, ignoring most of what goes on, only commenting casually.
“But if they like a slave, they’ll stop talking and watch. You can see them out of the corner of your eye with their elbows on the edge of the stage, and then the shouts of ‘ten pence’ and it starts again. The Master is a big rough man. You’re thrown right over his knee. He wears a leather apron. He greases you hard before he begins and you’re thankful for it. It makes the spanks sting more but it saves your skin, really. And the attendant props your chin and waits to drive you off. And there’s a lot of laughing and talking from them both. The Master always squeezes me hard and asks me if I’m being a good little boy, exactly the way he’d talk to a dog, that same voice. He roughs up my hair and teases me mercilessly about my cock and warns me to keep my hips up high so that my cock doesn’t disgrace itself on his apron.
“One morning I remember a Prince did come in the Master’s lap. And how he was punished. The paddling was merciless and then he was driven round and round through the tavern at a squat, made to touch the tip of his cock to each boot in the place to beg forgiveness while he kept his hands behind his neck. You should have seen him squirming in and out, the patrons sometimes taking pity and tousling his hair, but most of the time ignoring him. And then he was led home at that same painful, disgraceful squat, his cock laced to point straight at the ground in disgrace, and it was hard enough again by that time. In the evening when the customers are drinking wine and the place is ablaze with candles, it can be worse than the Public Turntable.