Chapter One
Queen Mab
For every season, there are positives and negatives. Today is the summer solstice, and I’m miserable in the heat. Plus, my sister is Queen of Faerie during the summer.
From here on out, the days will grow shorter, and the time of my reign draws nearer. Come the fall equinox, I’ll be the ruling Queen once more, and my days will be filled with the duties of running the queendom.
However, for the time being, I had the luxury of spending all the time I wanted in my dungeons, and I was fully taking advantage of the long days — there are so many people to torture and play with in the bowels of my castle.
I’d acquired the former Eagle King as a result of a horse trade a while back, and was still having great fun with him, but I’d been informed we had a new pleasure slave — paid to me in tribute by a wealthy businessman — and she’d been put into a holding room so I could personally handle her intake process.
Prisoners are fun to punish, but the rare pleasure slave who’s been trained to enjoy torture is a special treat. I’d seen the paperwork on this girl, and based on her previous owners and trainers, I had hopes she might prove a nice diversion.
I was informed she seemed a nervous wreck, so I went to the holding room instead of having her brought to the throne room. I brought another slave with me, one who’d record the new slave’s answers and any notes I wanted put into the girl’s file.
Contrary to what most probably think of the Wicked Winter Queen, I don’t make a habit of abusing my slaves just because I can. I’d whipped this particular stenographer slave once when she was rude to a business associate, and I’d assigned her to dishwashing duty in the kitchens for a month when she zoned off while on the job, but the girl’s been with me nearly fifteen years and those are the only two times she’s been punished.
My first view of the new little pleasure slave sent tingles through my magic. She was a little slip of a thing and strikingly beautiful. Someone had put her into my preferred inspection pose — feet a little wider than shoulder width, perfect posture, eyes straight ahead, fingers laced at the back of her head. She still held it beautifully, and her arms didn’t appear to be shaking.
Some slaves hold their position when I enter, but most prostrate themselves. Neither choice earns reprimand or punishment at this stage, but I was intrigued she’d chosen to follow orders over protocol.
Whether she’d been naked when she arrived or had been stripped to nothing by my guards, I didn’t know. I wasn’t certain of her most recent owner’s slave protocols for travel, but the Master he purchased her from wouldn’t have permitted clothing at any time, nor would her original owner, where she was raised and trained.
I walked in a circle around her, observing. She didn’t break posture. Didn’t move a millimeter, other than to breathe. Her nails were swirled purple and green, her red hair had streaks of gold, and her eyes practically glowed green. I circled her a few more times, and noted her toenails matched her fingernails. I’d need to double-check to be sure the familial searches had been done.
My new slave had enough muscle I knew she’d be able to handle what I doled out, but was soft enough she’d still be fun to play with. I couldn’t wait to see her flawless white ass with streaks of red from a strap, and then dotted with smaller streaks from a flogger. However, she was too thin for my tastes, and I made a mental note to check later to see if this was her natural size, or whether her food intake had been severely restricted.
“What’s your name?”
A deeper breath, so she’d have enough air to speak, but she answered quickly, her eyes still straight ahead without looking at me. “My original owner called me seven-sixty-three, Ma’am. The Master I just came from called me little one.”
Before I slapped the shit out of the girl for her impertinence, I asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“No, Ma’am?”
Her voice wavered and her arms finally shook a little. The poor thing was scared shitless, and I was about to terrify her even more, whether I wanted to or not. I softened my voice and said, “You address me as my Queen or Your Majesty, Little One.”
