Taxing Beauty

"Taxing Beauty"

by Sally

She never thought of her family as poor. They always had all they needed. They ate from the garden plot, played music every sundown, broke bread with friends, and had family scattered throughout the countryside. No, she never felt poor, not until the prince and his men rode through town.

Then, for the way her parents scrapped and bowed, she quickly learned that there were forced above her that made her humble. This made her angry at the prince, angry at her parents, angry at fate, but also strangely excited. Though it shamed her, she longed to be the one whose very presence created such subservience in grown adults.

She pushed this inking of a thought deep inside her, for later reflection. One day, kneaded the daily bread with her mother, she asked, "Mother, why do you and Papa look so nervous when the prince rides through town?"

Her mother stopped and stared at her daughter thoughtfully, "Daughter, I've longed waited for you to ask such an astute question of me. Daughter, the king and queen are noble and good. They've given us everything we need and have allowed peace to reign for decades. The prince, on the other hand, is a different story. From the time he was born, the nobles and country folk alike knew he would be trouble.

"He was born spitting at authority and an voracious lust for every young woman he laid his beady, green eyes on. Do you ever wonder, Daughter, why I insist you stay inside on his town 'visits'?"

Suddenly, so much was clearer to the young woman. She remembered the squeals of horror of Ms. Newcomb, as the prince once lowered a long arm from his halted steed, to pinched the tight young buttocks of her daughter. She remembered thinking that the prince was teasing a playmate, and that the woman was overreacting.

"Why do you keep me inside if the prince has an eye for young women? Don't you and Father want me to marry a wealthy man? Maybe he would fall in love with me," she mused aloud.

Her daydream quickly soured as her mother slapped her across the face! This was the first time she'd ever been struck by her mother, besides of course for the occasional spanking when she'd been naughty, "Silence! Silence that notion! Daughter, I never want you to think of that villain as a man capable of love!"

The young woman sobbed softly, cupping the wounded cheek in her hand, as she lowered her eyes to her mother's angry visage.

"Mother! I don't understand! Why did you hit me?"

"I'm sorry my child. I truly am, but the thought of you with that madman made me lose myself. Daughter, hush now. Hush," she comforted her daughter now, but remained distracted, "Allow me to continue with all that I know now, for you deserve to know it too. You are growing up and I know you will be ready for a suitor soon. Let me tell you all I know about that monster, and then you will know why it is that you must vanquish all thoughts of royalty," she spat that last word like a curse and sat her daughter down at the well-worn kitchen table of hard oak.

"Daughter, these are more than rumors, and you must believe them with every ounce of your being, for this is a cautionary tale a few sad regretful girls never received.

"Have you ever wondered why we see so much of the prince, and only see the king and queen on the Crown Celebration? It's because they are busy with serious matters of state, and early learned that their son was worse than useless, he would be a detriment to the sovereignty of the nation. He licked his lips at dignitary's daughters, and winked lewdly at their wives. They left him to amuse himself. This was perhaps the best move they could have made politically, and the worst thing they could have done domestically.

"For, with the prince's time completely at his own disposal, his lascivious mind roamed freely across the countryside and saw all too many ways he could amuse his yearnings. When he was 16, he had chosen his first victim.

"She was 14 and by far the fairest child of the village. One day, he rode into town and descended his steed in front of the young girl's cottage and had his man tie the horse to the gate and stand sentry at the door. Hours passed, and finally the prince emerged from the cottage with the weeping young lady and screams could be heard inside from her mortified mother.

"Strong like the king, the prince easily flung the poor child over the saddle of his horse, motioned to his man to untie the horse, threw a pile of gold coins onto the feet the wailing mother, who strained against her tear-stained husband, as the prince laughed and rode quickly away, turning with a jaunty wave.

"Two weeks later, the man returned to the cottage, with the young lady seated behind him in the horse. Her hands had been tied in front of her with hemp rope and her lovely cheeks were bee-stung red, and her eyes bruised from crying. The man allowed her father to help her off the horse, and the way she fell into his arms, proved her utter exhaustion.

"This was the first 'trade' the prince was to make with a villager. The townspeople later found out that the prince threatened to levy a "virgin tax" on the family that would mean collecting everything put one penny of the family's salary, every week, ruining them and rendering them homeless. He said the only way out of the mess was to let him take their daughter's virginity himself.

"Perhaps knowing he could not get away with such a thing for long, for all young women would rush into the arms of their lovers immediately to escape such a fate, the prince 'repealed' this mandate and created others, modified according to the quarry. For example, there was the red-headed daughter tax, the talented seamstress tax, the honor student tax, the bricklayer's daughter tax, and more.

"He had the townspeople at his mercy. We never knew what strange, cruel tax he would dream up, and whose daughter would be next. We started trying to keep the births of our daughters secret, but when the prince came around, he would always demand every villager came to greet his caravan. The best we could do was to keep our daughters in the ugly rags you hate so much, and hide them indoors, at risk of imprisonment.

The young woman had been captivated by her mother's tale. She wished she could be appalled like her mother and shocked, the way her mother obviously wanted her to be, but instead she was unaccountably turned-on. Her sex felt sensitive against her rough undergarments, and she felt her blood pulse with an insistence that scared her.

By the time her mother concluded her tale, the young woman feigned lightheadedness and asked if she could lay on her cot until dinner. Her mother looked at her sympathetically, thinking she had scared the girl to the point of exhaustion. She gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead and nodded her assent.

Once in her bedroom, the young woman quickly stripped off her grey tunic and buried herself under her bedclothes. Her fingers deftly found her engorged clitoris and rubbed herself to the tune of horses hooves, hemp rope encircling her lithe wrist, and cruel laughter ringing in her ears.

She put a pillow over her lips to muffle the cries of her misbegotten orgasm and immediately felt guilty. Her mother was trying to warn her for her own good, and she was sick to take pleasure out of the torment of other young women such as herself. Even worse, she couldn't help but wish she would be next.

Weeks passed and the family continued their daily routines and sang in the evenings in their happiness. However, every night, the young woman was visited by different incarnations of the abduction she guiltily wished for. She hated her nighttime longings, but it was like a serpent in her bed, hissing its presence, ordering her to do its bidding or be strangled in revenge. She imagined the prince lifting her onto his horse, riding her into the sunset to the castle. There he would take her virginity roughly, without the chance for mercy. Little did the prince know, she wouldn't have begged for mercy at all, only for more.

Finally, her fantasies followed her into the day and she couldn't be rid of them. She would be doing the washing outside and rub the stiff cloth against her wrist, imagining how the prince's rough rope would feel rubbing against her skin. She would be milking the cows and nearly knock over the stool if she heard loud hooves outside the barn.

Her mother noticed that her daughter was increasingly jumpy and distracted. She wondered if it wasn't time to finally let her daughter know the pleasure of a man. She would turn 18 in a month, and it would be time for her entry into society. This thought pleased the older woman, and she immediately set-out to make the arrangements for a grand feast in her beautiful daughter's honor.

One day, walking to market with her best friend, the girls talked of the upcoming birthday and the planned party.

"You are so lucky," her friend said sadly, "my parents did little more than pat me on the head and wish me a happy birthday last year."

"Well, last year was not your 18 ^th birthday. I am a woman now, and this may as well be a farewell party for me."

"What do you mean?" the younger girl asked.

"Well, I suppose I will be married soon, and will be made to live in my husband's village," visions of boredom and drab routine filled her eyes with tears.

"Oh, I suppose you're right! Why don't you sound more excited? I can't wait to be married!"

She thought about this question for a moment, "I guess because I always thought there would be more to life for me." She eyes trailed off to the large shadow of the castle that blocked the sun away in the distance. She sighed. Suddenly, a team of horses could be heard rounding the mountain trail.

"Run!" her companion screamed, and like lightening ran herself into the nearest hayloft. The visions of drabness were pierced by light. Her hopes, her salvation from her fate; she readied herself.

As the regaling dressed beasts came into view, and she saw the prince's dark hair contrasted with the light blue sky, she pretended to run away from the onslaught of hooves, but purposefully lost her footing in her long skirts and fell in front of the lead stallion. Cursing herself, she'd really injured herself and the red blood soaked through her thin skirt.

"Whoa! Whoa boys!" The lead rider pulled on the reigns and the action was repeated in kind by the line of riders, as they stopped right before they would trampled the poor hurt maiden.

"Girl, watch youself!" the prince cried, and looked annoyed. She saw the fabled glow of his green eyes, and felt the familiar stirrings in her groin.

"Hush, Sebastian," the lead rider chided the prince and jumped off his halted horse, "Are you alright, child? You scared us. I thought we were to have a much messier meeting just now," His kind demeanor shocked her out of her reverie. She was expecting the biting words of the prince, or the punishment of the hose whip the lead rider still held in his gloved hand.

The man followed her frightened eyes to the whip and softly chuckled, "Please don't fear me, young lady! I wouldn't whip you for falling over your petticoats. Oh, you're bleeding. Let me help you up." He put his arms underneath her shoulder blades and easily lifted her to her feet. "You must allow me to offer you a ride to your cottage. After all, it was my horse that nearly trampled you."

Her leg did hurt terribly, but when she saw the amusement in the eyes of her protector, she smiled, "Thank you, sir, but that is not necessary, for I live very close to here."

"All the more reason why it is no imposition."

"Roger, leave her. The daylight is nearly gone and we have not nearly finished our inspections."

"Why then, Sebastian, why not let this young lady's home be the first we visit. I'd not seen her before anyway. Could it be that her parents had hitherto hidden her from view? I think I would have remembered such a face."

At this, the prince produced a sinister smile, "You're absolutely right, Roger. What was I thinking. Of course we could offer the young lady a ride to her cottage. Where are my manners." The prince let his eyes traveled the length of the still supported maiden's body and she felt the electricity of his stare, everywhere it touched, "What's your name, Maiden?" The words slithered like syrup kisses in her ear.

"Julia, my lord."

"Ah, she knows who I am. A happy meeting, Julia, of that I am sure."

With that, Roger lifted her to the back of his saddle and the cadre rode on to levy a brand new tax.