I awoke the next morning with a new resolve. Her Majesty had sent me off to live my life, and it was time I got down to the business of doing so. Finally, I began making decisions without assistance. No one needed to ask me questions to help me decide where to walk, which lessons I wanted to work on first, whether I wanted to go to bed now or an hour from now, even though the rest of the household was bedding down early. And if my desires deviated from the little schedule I’d made myself, I followed my desires instead of the routine.
I also began spending more and more time in the stables, and when my Great-Grandfather purchased six new horses, I helped the stable master train and teach them. He told me I had a natural aptitude for knowing when they needed a kind word or a treat, and when they needed to be shown who was in charge, but without breaking them completely. My favorite horse of these six, I named Maximus, and he became the horse I most often chose to ride. He became my friend. He was my horse, though he legally belonged to my Great-Grandfather.
My family had frowned at my five-plus mile daily runs when I’d first arrived, but once I started working with the horses they no longer thought it odd, and I found joy in my long runs on the horse trails through my Great-Grandfather’s forests.
I put all thoughts of sex and orgasms to the back of my mind, and I focused on the horses, on my cousins, and on my studies. My life was full and I was happy. My nighttime tears no longer happened as frequently, and I stopped sleeping on the floor. My days were packed with activity, and my time with the horses exhausted me.
When the leaves burst into color, my Great-Grandfather sent me a formal invitation to choose my favorite horse from his stables so I could ride with him into the mountains. We rode to a cabin — stocked with food and the beds made up — and spent two days exploring the mountain.
On our final night, he gave me two certificates. The first was a document saying Maximus and all of his equipment now belonged to me, and the second promised me time to sit with an artist so I could come up with my own branding iron, which would allow me to properly claim any horses I purchased in the future, as well as Maximus.
The quarter-pixie slave was now a titled Lady who owned a pedigreed horse. By now, I knew not to say thank you, so I told him, “I’m honored, Great-Grandfather. I’m truly happy it’s this family I ended up with. I love you all so much.”
TABBY
On the day after All Hallows Eve, I took some of the coins from my trust fund to my Grandfather’s legal counsel and asked him how to change my name. I needed to do something to show my family my appreciation, and I knew they’d all been taken aback by my being given Her Majesty’s surname. I couldn’t bring myself to throw away her gift, but the attorney helped me file the paperwork so my legal name became Tabitha Amabilis Winter-Amethyst.
When I took the legal document home the following week, the look on my Grandfather’s face told me he was flabbergasted, and then pleased beyond words. He pulled me into his arms and didn’t try to hide the emotion in his voice. “I love you, little Tabby. I’m so proud of who you’re becoming.”
My Great-Grandfather was so happy, he bought me a dozen new dresses with my new monogram on them, and replaced all my monogrammed towels.
And so, when the ballgown and invitation came from The Winter Queen six weeks later, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I’d missed her so much, for so long, but I’d finally taken on this new identity, this new persona, and I wasn’t sure she fit into my life anymore.
Or that I’d fit into hers.
The few times I’d tried to have sex, I hadn’t enjoyed it. They wanted me to make decisions about positions, and whether we went fast or slow, and I just wanted them to take charge. Once Devin had explained I’d have to find someone equal to or higher than me in station, I’d decided to give up on sex — if not forever, at least until I figured out the local political scene better.
I was staring at the gown when I heard the front door bang open, immediately followed by a scream and shriek from my cousin who lived just down the road. I ran into the other room to see her waving an invitation. “The Winter Queen has invited me to the Yule Ball in her castle! The invitation has actual gold writing on it! You have to tell me what to wear! You’ve been to these, right?”
I shrugged and shook my head. I’d been present for a few balls, but it wasn’t the same as going to one. I tried to avoid reminding my family of my former slave status, and especially the kind of slave I’d been — but there didn’t seem to be a way around it for this explanation. “I wasn’t paying attention to anyone’s gown, and I was usually nude, or in something designed to show my nudity even if I was clothed in some manner. By the end of the evening, pretty much everyone’s naked, and while I remember the lavish clothes at the beginning, my eyes had to stay focused on the floor, which means I didn’t get to see many details. I don’t think I’ll be much help.”
I’d left the ball at my Great-Grandfather’s castle before it’d devolved into a sexual free-for-all. I couldn’t enjoy normal sex and wasn’t prepared to make it common knowledge.
“I know you were invited, too, Tabby.” Grandfather told me. “What will you wear?”
“My invitation came with a gown. Do you want to see?”
He nodded and followed me to my room, along with my cousin.
I pulled the extravagant, beautiful black and silver gown from the box, and no one spoke a word.
My cousin handed me a hanger from my closet, and I adjusted it so I could hang the lavish gown from the canopy of my bed. Closer inspection showed the skirt could be pulled away, as could part of the bodice. By the end of the evening, I’d be in a gorgeous corset and nothing else. The Winter Queen was usually dressed in at least a corset and boots or shoes, so I supposed it made sense she’d send me something similar. The corset was more elaborate than the waist cinchers I’d worn when a slave, and yet, I couldn’t help but think it might feel the same.
I was a jumble of emotions and hadn’t worked through my feelings on the dress yet, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to stress over what to wear. The note said, “If you’d prefer to wear something else, feel free, but I wanted to make this as easy on you as I could, so I’m offering this gown as a gift. I’ve missed you, but you needed this time to find yourself.”
I didn’t dare get my hopes up that the invitation was more than Her Majesty being nice. The note almost sounded like she might want me back now that I understood what it meant to be free, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe. Part of me still wanted to be owned, used, and hurt — but I’d come to terms with the fact I wasn’t likely to easily find someone who could give me what I needed.
My cousin stared at the dress for several long moments before saying, “During her yearly coronation, everyone is required to dress in black, as she does. However, for this ball, she’s supposed to be the only one in black. Everyone else is supposed to wear bright colors.”
I showed her the note, and she stared at it while she seemed to take her time figuring out what to say. Finally, she looked up and met my gaze. “When you first came to us, you were a little pathetic, but you’ve finally blossomed into your own person. We’re cousins, but I feel like you’re my long-lost sister.” She shook her head, stood, and walked towards the door. “It’s dangerous to try to guess Her Majesty’s motives, so I won’t try. Will you at least go shopping with us, to give us input on dresses? Maybe you weren’t paying attention to clothes, but surely you’ll be able to remember enough to tell us what is and isn’t appropriate?”
“Of course I’ll go. I love shopping. I think you’ll know more about what’s appropriate and what isn’t, but I’ll have fun helping you pick something out.”
“Do you want to wear this dress, Tabby?” my Grandfather asked, his voice solemn, so I understood this was a Very Important Decision.
I took a few moments to consider it from all angles, and told him, “Her Majesty did everything she could to make this transition easier, so I’d learn what it means to be a freepers
on. So I could find myself. I have to believe she’s still doing what’s best for me, so yes — I’ll do as she wishes.”
They left the room, and I stared at the dress while my mind ran through the possibilities. Her Majesty was certainly over me in station and could do whatever she wanted. The question was... would she want to?
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Candace Blevins has published more than thirty-five books. She lives with her husband of twenty years and their two daughters. When not working or driving young teens all over the place, she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming. The family’s beloved, goofy, retired racing greyhound is usually at her side as she writes, quietly keeping her company.
Candace writes Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Contemporary BDSM Romance, and a kick-ass Motorcycle Club series.
Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, and a variety of other mythological beings exist.
Candace's two paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals and The Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, are both sister series to the Only Human series, and give some secondary characters their happily ever after.
Her contemporary Safeword series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each couple in the Safeword series gives the reader a different take on the lifestyle.
You can visit Candace on the web at candaceblevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at facebook.com/candacesblevins and Goodreads at goodreads.com/CandaceBlevins. You can also join facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters to get sneak peeks into what she's writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy teaser.
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