“Shhhh!” Mistress Lockely clamped her hand over Beauty’s mouth and Beauty arched her back, sobbing against it.  O, it was worse being bound; she could not make herself be still.  But she stared at Mistress Lockley with wide eyes and tried to nod, though the hand held her.

“Slaves have no voice,” said Mistress, “until the Master or Mistress asks to hear that voice, and then you answer with the proper respect.”  She let go of Beauty’s mouth.

“This is how a bad little girl should be punished,” she continued.

The Queen's hand was under her sex as if weighing it, feeling the roundness and heaviness of the lips, pinching them.  “Arch your back," said the Queen, " and lift your buttocks, little cat in heat."  Beauty obeyed, her eyes flooded with tears of shame.  She was trembling violently as she took a deep breath, and against her will felt the Queen's fingers commanding her passion, squeezing the flame so it burned hotter. Surely Beauty's pubic lips were swelling, their juices flowing, no matter how bitterly she struggles against it!  In a blur Beauty saw Prince Alexi move to the dressing table.  And then before her, propped against a silk pillow, was the mirror, tilted so she could see the Queen's smooth white face distinctly.  The dark eyes terrified her.  The Queen commenced to spank her.  One great hard slap after another fell on her buttocks, and if a paddle had ever been worse she could not remember it.