“Ah, I see. I remember your story of her, Alexi,” said the Queen.

“Yes, madam, I told you quite a story there.”

And Blanche too had heard the story of how Princess Lynette trained Prince Alexi for a delectable little performance before the whole Court.

“She came back some six years ago, as I understand it,” said Alexi, “and the Queen received her kindly just as she later received me. I’ve dined with her many an evening since the Queen went away. She has marvelous tales to tell of having served in the Lord Mayor’s stables. She would help you build the new stables for female ponies at the castle with all her heart.”

“I shall rely on that,” said the Queen. “And was she a strict mistress, Princess Blanche?”

“Yes, madam,” said Blanche softly. “Very strict.”

“And were you ever sent to the Queen’s Village for punishment?”

“Yes, madam, I was sent there, but only for a summer, and for ‘slight imperfections,’ as my mistress called them, which she wanted to see cleaned away. I was there for three months in the hotter weather, and served in a shop that sold various trinkets. I was used there for display.”

“I never saw such a shop. Explain this to me,” said the Queen.

“Adornments, madam. Clips for nipples or earlobes, chastity belts of gold, leather cuffs, and chains and such.” Blanche realized she was trembling. This was the last thing she’d expected, to have to speak so much. But the Queen made not a sound, and anxiously, Blanche continued, “I was adorned and stood near the door for the passersby to approve the wares.” A vivid memory of it engulfed her, of the hot cobblestone village street, where she stood motionless by the door, just as she was standing now, only her nipples were painted and adorned with coiled wire, and from the wire had hung tiny golden bells. Men and women of the village passed her, some ignoring her completely, others stopping to pat her bottom, or pinch her, or tickle the golden bells. And then came the serious buyer who would inspect carefully, and order her inside as he asked for the golden bracelets she wore, or the jewel adorning her navel, or the tiny pearls strung through her pubic hair.

“Why is your face so red, Princess?” asked the Queen.

“I don’t want to displease you, madam,” Blanche said with a short muffled sob.

“Oh, nonsense, you are not displeasing me. I am only asking. I want to know what you feel.”

“Helpless, madam,” said Blanche. “I . . . I was remembering . . .”

“Was the shopkeeper rough or kind?”

“I cannot complain about my masters, can I, madam?”

“Ah, so rough. Did he beat you often?”

“He sent me to the Punishment Shop every morning,” said Blanche, the tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Ah, now, I have heard of that, the Punishment Shop,” said the Queen, “though I never saw it. It was where bad little boys and girls were spanked by a seated whipping master while the villagers gathered to gossip and drink.”

“Yes, madam,” said Blanche. “He always wore a big leather apron and he was . . . Forgive me, madam. Forgive me.”

“Forgive you what? Was he harsh? I want the truth.”

“Harsh, madam. He spanked with a wooden paddle. If the audience liked it, if they even took a little notice, well, he’d give extra smacks. And if anyone paid for another spanking, he was all too willing.”

“And were you a favorite with the morning crowd?”

“Always, madam.”

“Come now, girl. I’m going to spank you. And you are going to tell me whether or not I do it well.”

Blanche shivered, and her eyes melted with thick tears. But the Queen had given her no command as to what to do.

“Come, over my knee,” said the Queen, “with your head towards Prince Alexi. The simple and elegant way with your hands touching the floor.”

Hurriedly, Blanche fell to her knees and stretched herself out over the Queen’s lap, her sex pressed against the velvet of the Queen’s gown, and the desire in her exploding soundlessly yet with a throb she felt in her ears.

Her shoulders were shaking with her sobs as she lowered her hands to touch the floor before Prince Alexi’s boots.

She felt the Queen’s right hand on her backside, just touching it, prodding the flesh.

“So soft, so fresh,” said the Queen.

“She is lovely,” said Prince Alexi. “But I should caution you. Her skin, pale as it is, is resilient and so it is tempting to spank her very hard, just to get the proper blush. I’ve seen her spanked along the Bridle Path at the castle and come out of it amazingly unblemished.”

Blanche’s sex was drenched with her own fluids. Surely the Queen would see this, see the moisture shining between her legs.

No sooner had this thought occurred to her than she felt the Queen prodding her anus, opening it, but not with her finger. “Tight little thing,” she said. It was some sort of little rod which was now withdrawn and Blanche felt ever more utterly without will or dignity or purpose except to give pleasure to the Queen.

Suddenly the paddle caught her by surprise. With amazing force, it cracked down on her bottom, drawing a little cry from her undisciplined mouth. Blanche stiffened all over but the next blows came so quickly and so loudly that she was suddenly moaning aloud again. She pressed her lips together, and this only made her choke with sobs. Again and again, the Queen spanked her hard.

“Come on, little girl, arch your back for me,” said the Queen, “that’s it, I want your little bottom raised for the paddle.” And on she spanked furiously until suddenly Blanche’s bottom was a riot of tingling pain.

She felt utterly undone suddenly, without any composure, sobbing and biting down on the sobs, her fingers playing on the carpet, and her eyes seeing Prince Alexi’s slippers in a blur.

His hand came down and gathered up her chin, and that was too much for her, the tender fingers lifting her face. She would have cried, No, please don’t look at my face, if she could have, but this would have been unthinkable. And she sobbed bitterly, feeling her breasts shivering against the Queen’s skirts.

She was spanked and spanked again, the paddle catching the underside of her bottom now, and slamming her hard on the right side and then the left.

The Queen’s left hand rested suddenly on her back. “Arch your back. Must I tell you again?” said the Queen. “That’s it. You want to make yourself as presentable as you can for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, madam,” she sobbed, horrified by the ragged and gasping sound of her own voice.

The Queen had apparently laid the paddle down and was now kneading her sore flesh. “You’re right. Her skin is simply gorgeous. For fair skin it is remarkable.”

“She’s known for it,” said Alexi. “But think now, Majesty, what is it you really want to do with her? Do you want to punish her more, break her down, or is there something else you prefer?”

The paddle was picked up again and this time the blows came down on her thighs. The Queen was displaying amazing strength. The stinging blows came in a flurry, and Blanche realized she was now sobbing softly, and with greater control. Not that the worst was over. Not by any means, but she had fallen through some barrier suddenly and felt prostrate in her pain. It was the new queen of Bellavalten who was punishing her and she had no idea whether she was pleasing the Queen or not.

Out of her mouth came the helpless cry, “My queen.”

“Yes, kitten, what is it?” came the Queen’s voice.

“I want to please you so,” sobbed Blanche. Her backside and thighs were on fire. But the Queen still spanked her, moving back again to her bottom and lifting each side as she spanked the lower curve right where her bottom met her thigh. Blanche shook with her sobs. She had never been any more helpless with anyone, any more faint and weightless and without will. Her sex was wet and pulsing with desire, and her breasts were filled with tingling warmth as if it were moving up from her loins all through her, like a hot fluid more certainly part of her than her own blood.

Suddenly the Queen pulled her up by her shoulders and slammed her down on her knees. She took Blanche’s wrists in both hands, and forced Blanche around to kneel right in front of her. “Look into my eyes,” she said.

Slowly Blanche looked up as if into a blinding light.

“Your Majesty,” she whispered imploringly.

Her breasts throbbed, and her sex was swelling as if it were something that could burst. The fluids ran down her inner thighs.

“Lift her up, Alexi,” said the Queen.

Blanche was wrenched to her feet.

“Now present your hips to me,” said the Queen. “That’s it, thrust them towards me.”

Blanche struggled to obey, careful to keep her legs apart. Always one was expected to keep one’s legs apart. Her calves were trembling as she stood on the balls of her feet, and her thighs and bottom throbbed with pain, a delicious hot pulsing pain that was worse now than when she was being spanked.

The Queen was examining her sex, seeing the flood of moisture, the wetness as that dreadful Galen always called it, and she felt the Queen’s thumbs suddenly inside her vagina.

Blanche gasped. She could not hold back. She would die before she let the pleasure crest, die before she disappointed the Queen and her beloved Tristan, but she couldn’t hold back.