|
Henry was infuriated. The Queen had, again, felt it necessary to torture him above and beyond the punishment her other knights-to-be were forced to endure for the sake of their initiation. Henry had been in his chamber for the last two days, restrained either to the makeshift bed, or to the wall with his arms bound above his head. Servants came to release him occasionally to feed him and ensure he was not trying to pleasure himself.
Her Majesty's tactics had worked. First she'd made him kneel and had him paddled for disobedience. Then she had tortured him in her bedchambers on his first night as an initiate into the knighthood. He had watched helplessly as The Queen's succulent chambermaids pleasured each other, then turned their attentions to Her Majesty. He vividly recalled the haze in The Queen's exquisite eyes, accented by the sapphire necklace she'd worn with nothing else, when she'd invited him to climb atop the bed with them. She'd let him kiss her and touch her breasts as she reached her peak, her face contorting into the most magnificent expression of pleasure Henry had ever seen. Unable to restrain himself, he'd released his juices onto The Queen's beautifully splayed body. He'd been ashamed and afraid he'd displeased her, but she had sent him back to his chamber, telling him that soon he would have the chance to redeem himself.
Now there he hung, bound to the cold stone wall, unable to touch himself or even move around, thinking only of his Queen. His incessant desire for her almost made him resent her, but his adoration for her overpowered his loathing immeasurably more. There was something so supremely untouchable about her. He hungered for her, wanted to devour her, to penetrate her sacred opening, to consume her. Just as Henry reflected on the profundity of his need, the chamber door swung open.
"She's ready for you," Gregory said, reaching up to release Henry's restraints. What would it be this time? he wondered, his mind sampling various possibilities as Gregory finished unbinding him. Was The Queen seeing him alone, or would her chambermaids again bear witness to his humiliation and helplessness?
Gregory led him into another chamber, where Henry spied a bathing basin and a vanity with necessary tools for him to groom himself. As he set about his task, Henry thought of Her Majesty.
He could not believe The Queen was the same Princess he'd met so long ago. Her mother and Henry's father always believed that their children would one day occupy the royal throne together. Ever rebellious, the Princess determinedly avoided Henry like the plague, instead spending her days with her sisters and the chambermaids. She didn't want to marry, he'd heard her tell her mother once. But he knew eventually she would have to bear an heir, and as far as he knew, there were no magic spells in the land to achieve that feat without the help of a man.
He wondered if the initiation was designed to find that particular man for the Queen. If the trials and tribulations endured by the knights-to-be was a way to express their love and loyalty to the Queen, it would verify that they would be just as loyal to their kingdoms. If so, Henry mused as he dried himself, then he hoped to prove his father right.
"I see you're ready for me."
Even blindfolded, Henry recognized the Queen's velvety voice, teasing yet authoritative. A wave of heat washed over him as he heard the soft swish of the Queen's silky gown as she walked around him in a circle, her slippers padding gently on the floor, where Henry stood, trying to remember to breathe.
|
