The Sleeping Beauty Trilogy

by Anne Rice

  It was amazing, the awkwardness between us. And right there in the stables were clothes for me and two young boys, with heads bowed not to see my nakedness, who helped me to put the clothes on.

  “Must this be done here!” I demanded. I was in a rage. But I was trying to hide my grief, my utter shock. I stared at Gareth as the boys buttoned my tunic and laced my breeches. I looked down in silent fury at my boots, my gloves. “Couldn’t you have had the decency to take me up to the castle for this little ritual! I mean I’ve never seen it done right here on the hay-strewn floor!”

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty!” the Captain said. “But this news couldn’t wait.”

  He glanced at the open door. I saw two of the Queen’s most important advisers, both of whom had used me well at the castle, and now they too stood with bowed heads. I was on the edge of tears. Again I looked at Gareth. He too was about to cry.

  “Goodbye, my beautiful Prince,” he said, and he knelt in the hay and kissed my hand.

  “‘Prince’ is no longer the proper address for our gracious ally,” said one of the advisers, advancing. “Your Majesty, I bring you the sad news that your father has died, and you are now the ruler of your Kingdom. The King is dead, long live the King.”

  “Damn it all,” I whispered. “He was always an utter bastard, and he would choose this time to breathe his last!”

  MOMENT OF TRUTH

  THERE WAS no time for lingering at the castle. I had to ride for home at once. I knew my Kingdom would be on the verge of anarchy. Both my brothers were idiots, and the Captain of the Army, though devoted to my father, would now try to gain power for himself.

  And so, after an hour’s conference with the Queen in which we talked mostly war and diplomatic agreements, I rode out, taking with me a great amount of treasure from her and also some little lovely trinkets and souvenirs of village and castle life.

  I was rather amazed still that all these cumbersome, heavy garments went everywhere that I did—it was annoying not to be naked—but I had to be on my way, and I did not even glance at the village as I rode by.

  Of course, a thousand Princes had undergone this sudden reprieve, this shock of clothing and ceremony, but few had had to take the reins of the Kingdoms to which they returned. There was no time for lamentation, no time to linger at a country Inn on the way and drink myself into a stupor as I tried to get used to the real world.

  I reached my castle by the second night of hard riding and, within the three days that followed, put everything right. My father had already been buried; my mother was long dead. And what was needed was a powerful hand at the helm of government and I soon made clear to everyone that that hand was mine.

  I flogged the soldiers who had abused the village girls in the few days of anarchy. I lectured my brothers and directed them to their duties with ominous threats. I had the army assembled for inspection and gave generous rewards to all those who had loved my father and who now came to me with the same love.

  None of this was difficult, really, yet I knew that many a European Kingdom fell because a new monarch could not do it. And I saw the look of relief on the faces of my subjects when they realized that their young King exercised authority easily and naturally, that he directed all matters of government, both large and small, with great personal attention and force. The Lord High Treasurer was grateful to have someone to assist him, and the Captain of the Army went at his command with renewed strength with me at his back.

  But when the first frantic weeks were over, when things quieted down in the castle, when I could sleep the night through without interruptions from servants and family, I began to think about all that had occurred. I had no more marks on my body. I was tormented by endless desire. And, when I realized I would never be a naked slave again, I could scarcely stand it. I didn’t want to look at the trinkets the Queen had given me, see the leather toys that were of no significance to me now.

  But I was ashamed afterwards.

  It was not my destiny, as Lexius would have said, to be any longer a slave. I had now to be a good and powerful ruler, and the truth was I loved being King.

  Being a Prince was just dreadful.

  But being King was quite fine.

  When my advisers came to me and told me I must take a wife and father a child to insure the succession, I nodded in agreement at once. Courtly life was going to devour me, and I should give it all that I had. My old existence was as insubstantial as a dream.

  “And who are the likely Princesses?” I said to my advisers. I was signing some important laws as they stood about my writing table. “Well?” I looked up at them. “Speak!”

  But even before any of the men said anything, one name suddenly came full force into my mind.

  “Princess Beauty!” I whispered. Could it be that she had not been married! I dared not ask.

  “0, yes, Your Majesty,” said my Lord High Chancellor. “She would be the wisest choice without question, but she refuses all suitors. Her father is in despair.”

  “Does she now?” I said. I tried to conceal my excitement. “I wonder why she refuses them,” I said innocently. “Go saddle my horse at once.”

  “But we should send an official letter to her father—”

  “No. Saddle my horse,” I said, rising from the table. I went to the royal bedchamber to dress myself in my finest clothes and to get a few other little things as well.

  I was just about to rush out when I stopped. I felt a sudden invisible blow to my chest. And just as if the wind had really been knocked out of me, I sank down in the chair at my desk.

  Beauty, my darling Beauty. I saw her in the cabin of the ship with her arms out, beseeching me. And I felt a surge of longing that left me naked as I had never been. Other mad thoughts came back to me, of mastering Lexius alone in his chamber in the Sultan’s palace, of having Jerard in my full possession, of the tenderness that came out of me in those precious moments when I looked at the reddened flesh beneath my open hand, the dangerous awakening of love for the ones I punished mercilessly, for those who were mine.

  Beauty!

  It took a surprising amount of courage to rise from the chair. And yet I was so eager! I patted my pocket where I had put the trinkets I was taking to her. And then I caught a glimpse of myself in the distant mirror—His Majesty in purple velvet and black boots, his ermine-trimmed cloak flaring behind him—and I winked at my reflection.

  “Laurent, you devil,” I said with wicked smile.

  We reached the castle unannounced, just as I had hoped, and Beauty’s father was jubilant as he brought us into the Great Hall. There had not been many suitors of late. And he was eager for an alliance with our Kingdom.

  “But, Your Majesty, I must warn you,” he said politely. “My daughter is proud and moody and will receive no one. She sits at her windows and dreams the whole day long.”

  “Your Majesty, humor me if you will,” I answered. “You know my intentions are honorable. Merely point me to the door of her parlor and leave the rest to me.”

  She was sitting at the window with her back to the room, and she was singing softly to herself, and her hair, gathering the sunlight to it, looked like spun gold.

  My sweet darling. The dress she wore was rose-colored velvet trimmed in carefully embroidered leaves of silver. And how finely it fitted her magnificent little shoulders and arms. Arms as juicy as the rest of her, I thought. So sweet to squeeze, those little arms. And let me see the breasts please, immediately ... and those eyes, that spirit.

  Again, the invisible and completely imaginary blow to my chest.

  I crept up behind her and, just as she gave a start, I clamped my gloved hands over her eyes.

  “Who dares to do this!” she whispered. It had a frightened, imploring sound.

  “Quiet, Princess,” I said. “Your Lord and Master is here, the suitor you will not dare to refuse!”

  “Laurent!” she gasped. I let her go, and she rose and turned and threw herself into my arms. I kissed her a tho
usand times, all but bruising her lips. She was as gorgeous and pliant as she had been in the hold of the ship, as succulent and feverish and wild.

  “Laurent, you haven’t really come with an offer of marriage, have you?”

  “Offer, Princess, offer?” I said. “I come with a command.” I forced her lips wide with my tongue, my hands squeezing her breasts hard through the velvet. “You will marry me, Princess. You will be my Queen and my slave.”

  “0, Laurent, I never dared dream of this moment!” she said. Her face was beautifully flushed, her eyes gleaming. I could feel her heat through the skirts against my leg. And the surge of love came again, overwhelming and mingled with a maddening sense of possession and power. It made me hold her very tight.

  “Go tell your father you will be my bride, that we will leave now for my Kingdom, and then come back to me!”

  At once, she went to obey, and when she came back she closed the door after her and stared at me uncertainly, shrinking back against the wood.

  “Bolt the door,” I said. “We will ride out in a matter of moments, and I will save the having of you for my royal bed, but I want to prepare you for the journey properly. Do as I say.”

  She slid the bolt into place. She was a picture of loveliness as she approached. I reached into my pocket and drew out a pair of the gifts I had brought with me from Queen Eleanor, two small gold clamps. Beauty lifted the back of her hand to her lips. Charming, but futile. I smiled.

  “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to train you all over again,” I said, winking at her, and kissing her quickly. I slipped my hand into her tight bodice and clamped the nipple firmly. Then I clamped the other. A shudder passed up through her torso to her open mouth. Such gorgeous distress.

  I took another pair of clamps from my pocket. “Spread your legs,” I said. I knelt and gathered up her skirt and reached up until I felt the wet naked little sex. How hungry it was, how ready. 0, she was such a splendid darling, and one glimpse of her radiant face peering down at me, and I should go mad. I applied the clamps carefully to the moist secret lips.

  “Laurent,” she whispered. “You are merciless.” She was already in appropriate misery, half afraid, half dazed. I could scarcely resist her.

  Now I drew out a small vial of amber-colored liquid, one of Queen Eleanor’s most important gifts. I opened the vial and savored the spicy aroma. But I must use this sparingly. After all, my tender little darling was not a strong, muscular pony used to such things.

  “What is it?” “Shh!” I touched her lips. “Don’t tempt me to whip you until I have you in my bedchamber and can do it properly. Be quiet.”

  I tipped the vial and poured a bit of its contents on my gloved finger, and then I raised Beauty’s skirt again and smoothed the fluid over her little clitoris, her trembling lips.

  “Ah, Laurent, it’s—” She flew into my arms and I held her. How she was suffering, trying not to squeeze her legs together, shivering.

  “Yes, ” I said, holding her. This was pure sweetness. “And it will itch in that manner all the way to my castle, at which time I shall lick it off, every last droplet of it, and take you as you deserve.”

  She moaned, her hips twisting in spite of herself as the itching potion did its work, her breasts rubbing against my chest as if I could somehow save her, her mouth on mine.

  “Laurent, I can’t bear it,” she said, breathing the words through her kisses. “Laurent, I am dying for you. Don’t make me suffer very long, please, Laurent, you mustn’t—”

  “Shhh, it’s out of your hands,” I said lovingly. Once again, I reached into my pockets, and I drew out a delicate little harness with a phallus attached. She put her hands to her lips as I unfolded the phallus, her eyebrows coming together in a panic-stricken little frown. But she didn’t resist as I knelt to slip the phallus into her little bottom, to secure it well in her anus, and strap the harness around her thighs and waist. Of course, I could have put the itching fluid on the phallus but that would have been too harsh. And this was only the beginning, wasn’t it? Time enough for that.

  “Come darling, let’s go.” I said as I rose. She was radiant and utterly compliant. I gathered her up and carried her out of the parlor and down the stairs to the courtyard, where her horse was waiting with its ornate sidesaddle already in place. But I didn’t place her on her horse.

  I seated her on my mount before me, and, as we rode off into the forest, I slipped my hand up under her skirts and touched the straps of the little harness and the wet, tender little part of her that was mine now, all mine, clamped and itching with desire and ready for me, and I knew I possessed a slave whom no Queen or Lord or Lady or Captain of the Guard could ever take from me again.

  This was the real world then—Beauty and I free to have each other and all the others gone. Just the two of us in my bedchamber, where I should envelop her naked soul in rituals and ordeals beyond our past experiences, our dreams. No one to save her from me. No one to save me from her. My slave, my poor helpless slave....

  I stopped suddenly. The blow to the chest again. I knew I had gone pale.

  “What’s wrong, Laurent!” she said in alarm. She held tight to me.

  “Panic,” I whispered.

  “No!” she gasped.

  “0, don’t worry, my tender sweetheart. I shall beat you soundly enough when we reach home, and adore doing it. I’ll make you forget the Captain of the Guard and the Crown Prince and everyone who’s ever had you, used you, satisfied you. But it’s just... just that I’m going to grow to love you so.” I looked at her upturned face, her savage eyes, her little body writhing beneath the rich gown.

  “Yes, I know,” she said in a small, shuddering voice. And she sealed her mouth to mine. And in a soft, heated whisper, she said slowly, thoughtfully. “I am yours, Laurent. And yet I don’t even know the meaning of the words yet. Teach me the meaning! It is only the beginning. It shall be the worst and most hopeless captivity of all.”

  If I didn’t stop kissing her, we wouldn’t make it to the castle. And the woods were so nice and dark... and she was suffering, my precious one....

  “And we shall live happily ever after,” I said through my kisses, “as the fairy tales say.”

  “Yes, happily ever after,” she answered, “and a good deal happier, I think, than anyone else could ever guess.”