Tomaso was a young carpenter who worked in the village. Tomasoʼs mother drank. His father drank and gambled. The debts were many and continued to grow. At last the Queen sent guards to seize the familyʼs property. Tomasoʼs father suggested that the Queen could make better use of a good carpenter than a dilapidated hovel.
After some discussion, it was agreed that the Queen would pay the familyʼs debts and in exchange Tomaso would be hers. Tomaso was taken to the castle where he was locked in a cell. During the day he was well guarded as he worked in the carpentry shop. At night he was returned to his cell.
One evening instead of turning right toward the dungeon, the guards turned left and marched Tomaso up some stairs, through halls, up more stairs, through more halls, and eventually to a sumptuously decorated room. Moments later Queen Eleanor herself breezed in and dismissed the guards, who reluctantly left the pair alone. The Queen explained to Tomaso that he was her captive to do with as she pleased.
“I understand that is my fate,” said Tomaso. “Is there something wrong with my work?”
“Oh no,” she replied. “I only wish to be certain you understand your position.”
“Will I ever be allowed to leave?” he asked.
“You belong to the Queenʼs castle,” she replied. “And so you shall remain. However tradition states that if you ever touch the ground outside the castle walls you will be free.” She smiled at the handsome carpenter. “Are you not happy here?”
“The work is good,” said Tomaso. “And it is good to not hear mother and father shouting in the night. But it is lonely in my cell and all day I work with Bertrand who is an excellent carpenter and a good man, but as you know, he is a deaf mute. I miss conversing with others.”
“Perhaps you would like to visit with me sometimes,” suggested the Queen.
“Oh, that would be most wonderful,” exclaimed Tomaso.
“Then you shall,” she replied, whereupon she clapped her hands.
At once the door flew open and a parade of carts were wheeled in, each loaded with delicacies the likes of which Tomaso had never seen. The Queen escorted Tomaso to a table where servants were arranging the food. When all was to the Queenʼs liking, the servants withdrew. Tomaso and the Queen ate and talked for several hours, discussing books, philosophy, music and their disparate upbringings. Tomaso was overjoyed to have someone so intelligent and exquisitely beautiful with whom he could discourse. At last the Queen clapped her hands once more and the servants reappeared. They removed the remnants of the feast and left another cart, this one holding a massive ornate hookah.
“Would you like a taste of the Queenʼs smoke?” she asked. “I must warn you that, like me, it is very strong.”
“Donʼt worry about me,” Tomaso laughed. “My parents are Hippites. I was weaned on this stuff.”
The Queen smiled to herself and fired up a fragrant load. After two puffs, Tomasoʼs vaunted experience was shown to be somewhat overrated, as he drifted into a revery. The Queen smiled wickedly as she withdrew an ornate box from a shelf on the hookah cart. She opened the box and withdrew nine ropes. Eight of them she used to quickly and expertly bind Tomasoʼs unresisting body into a strict hogtie, legs and ankles bound together and doubled up, elbows and wrists tied behind, wrists tightly bound to a rope around his waist, and and finally wrists bound to ankles.
He could barely wriggle. A rubber ball attached to a strap was used to silence him. He slowly became aware of his surroundings. He knew he was tightly bound and gagged, for the Queen had graciously placed a large mirror nearby. His hostess was seated at the table, chin in hand, bemusedly watching his useless struggles. Showing her royal strength, she dragged him to the window and used the ninth rope to attach his bound body to a system of pulleys which were hanging outside the window. She raised him, swung him out the window, and gently lowered the trussed up carpenter until he was hanging inches above the ground. She went downstairs and outside the castle where she knelt before her captive.
“Do you know where you are?” she asked.
“Hanging in a web of ropes, your Majesty.”
“Do you see the ground below you?”
“Yes your Majesty.”
“That soil is your freedom. Can you touch it?”
“No, your Majesty. I can only sway in the breeze and admire your delightful royal form kneeling before me.”
“Oh, too bad,” said the Queen, brushing the hair from Tomasoʼs face and gently kissing his lips.
She stood and walked away. Soon he felt himself being raised back to her room. His bindings were removed and the guards escorted him to his cell.
The next night after work, Tomaso was again escorted to the Queenʼs chamber and again they dined and talked and again he smoked from the royal hookah. Again he found himself tightly bound and hanging inches above the ground with the Queen kneeling before him, and again he was rewarded with a brief kiss before being hoisted back through the window and returned to his cell. This continued for many days.
The Queen would sometimes remove his shirt or trousers before binding him and pleasuring herself while admiring his bound body.
Inevitably, one evening she removed all of his clothing and used him until dawn. The next day was very difficult for Tomaso. His muscles were sore from being bound for many hours and he was very tired. However his dazed state may have been helpful because, as he put his tools away and awaited the guards, an idea occurred to him. He smiled. He would use the Queenʼs beauty against her.
That night, Tomaso again ate and talked with the Queen, smoked from the hookah and was again stripped and bound. As he was being lowered from the window he drew from his memory the sight of her luscious royal body. He imagined her wrapped in ropes and squirming helplessly. He imagined what he might do to her in such a state. These thoughts caused his penis to spring to life and, at its fullest extent, it just barely touched the ground. The ropes fell away and Tomaso sprang to his feet a free man.
05.09.11