Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | The Twelve Dancing Princesses

The Twelve Dancing Princesses
Nancy Madore


Twelve princesses, each possessing riches, grace, power and dignity. Yet despite the sisters' charmed lives—and despite the handsome men who desire them—they are woefully unfulfilled, frustrated and aching for something more.As a powerful wizardess helps to solve the riddle of their discontent, each princess discovers creative—and naughty—ways to satisfy her passionate cravings and desperate needs.








Nancy Madore




THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to Cindy, Linda and Sharon—three women who provide a never-ending supply of material for a book like this.








PROLOGUE


LONG AGO, IN THE DAYS OF ROYALS AND WIZARDS, THERE LIVED A KING who had no sons, being instead blessed with twelve healthy daughters. The princesses were much admired throughout the kingdom, for each of them possessed dispositions that were at once curious and content, fun-loving and kind. The king held his daughters above everything else, and all of their activities were of interest to him.

When the princesses grew up, each in her turn took a husband, leaving the castle but none of them going very far, so the king continued to watch over them and fancied he knew all that concerned them.

One day a peculiar rumor reached the king’s ears; a rumor that appeared to be known by everyone but him. It seemed that the whole of his kingdom was speculating over the princesses’ shoes, or more particularly, that it took four kingdoms just to keep them in shoes. What was puzzling about this was that the princesses’ new shoes were always worn to shreds the day after they were purchased. It little mattered how sturdy the material the shoes were made of, or how well put together they were, or even how little worn they had been when the princesses removed them in the evenings. Each and every morning the shoes would be found in tatters. And it seemed that the princesses were more baffled than anyone by this.

Immediately upon hearing of this oddity the king ordered the princesses to appear before him. They confirmed that the rumors he heard were true but could provide no clues as to the cause. The king, who prided himself on his problem-solving abilities, discussed the case with his daughters and their husbands in great detail. Could they have been sleepwalking during the night? Further debate proved that they had not. Could a third party be tampering with the princesses’ shoes? This also proved to be impossible, as they had begun placing their shoes under lock and key. Were the shoes made of defective materials then, that perhaps disintegrated after so much time? On and on the king questioned his daughters but no new light was shed on the mystery.

The king was at first intrigued, as well as bewildered; but over time the mystery began to wear on his sense of logic and order. Each and every evening he would ride out to the homes of all twelve of his daughters to inspect their shoes. In almost every case the shoes were in pristine condition, only to be discovered the following morning thoroughly worn through, as if they had been used for many years, rather than only one single day. And every morning that he found the shoes in this condition, the king became increasingly frustrated and determined. He spent all his time between morning and night looking into the matter, and the poor man could find no peace until he discovered the secret of his daughters’ worn shoes. These events took their toll on the king, and at length, he issued a decree that whoever solved the riddle would be awarded half his kingdom. This was not a challenge for the faint-hearted, however; for in order to discourage insincere applicants the king added the stipulation that anyone attempting to solve the riddle and failing would be put to death.

At first, there were a surprising number of brave men who came forward to accept the challenge, but each and every one failed to successfully solve the riddle and lost their lives in the bargain. During the period of time when proposals to explain this matter of the shoes were flooding in, the princesses opened their eyes each morning with dread, wondering if another innocent man would lose his life. Their carefree, happy childhood seemed a lifetime away. But after a while, the number of men willing to step forward and accept the challenge became fewer and fewer, and the riddle of the princesses’ shoes became merely a topic of conversation—for everyone but the king.

Then one day from a faraway land, there came to this kingdom a wizardess called Harmonia Brist. She had traveled a long way from an unfortunate place, where her powers of perception and healing were not only unappreciated, but actually condemned. She left that place in search of a home where she could prosper from her talents. It was here that she paused in her journey to take food and rest.

The wizardess Brist was not long in the kingdom before the topic of the princesses’ shoes caught her attention. She was immediately intrigued, and listened with great interest to all that the innkeeper and his daughters would tell her about the matter. When she was satisfied that she had heard enough, the wizardess stood up and said, quite calmly, “Kindly instruct me on the directions to the castle, for I would like to explain this riddle to the king.”

Everyone present was astounded. They abruptly dropped what they were doing—and even the innkeeper closed up his shop—to personally escort the wizardess to the king’s door. As they proceeded to the castle, the gathering grew larger, with bystanders stopping to inquire what the matter was, and then joining in when they heard what the wizardess was about. Each and every one of the townspeople virtually ceased all activity to follow the wizardess on her adventure to the castle, until there was quite a long parade down the middle of the street.

At last the procession reached its destination and the wizardess was received with much pomp and courtesy, as might well be expected. She was placed in a comfortable room high in a castle tower to await her appointment with the king. Invitations were printed, the princesses were notified and a great feast was prepared. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to attempt the riddle, and in spite of the gruesome outcome that was likely to result, everyone was filled with excitement and anticipation.

In a matter of days the night of the great feast arrived, but in spite of the festivities, drink and music, everyone present was impatient for the moment when the wizardess would have her say. Everyone, that is, except the king. He had, over time, given up hope of ever learning the secret of his daughters’ shoes, wearied by the many deaths of those who had already attempted to solve the riddle. He did not wish to see another life lost, least of all the life of this woman. He watched in bewilderment as she calmly enjoyed the festivities. Even the bravest of men who had accepted the challenge had had the good sense to be nervous! He remembered how confident and self-assured she had been on the day when the townspeople presented her to him. He had not been able to stop wondering about her since then. He felt that he should not allow her to accept the challenge. He must dissuade her somehow. The possibility of her losing her life was not worth the risk. The likelihood that she would solve the riddle was impossible. Other wizards and learned men had tried and failed. And yet, all the while, he was as intrigued as everyone else to know how this Harmonia Brist—this wizardess—planned to resolve the mystery.

So the king delayed the awaited moment longer and longer while he debated what he should do. At last the hour grew quite late, and the wizardess approached him.

“A word, Your Highness,” she said, addressing him as if she were the one who was royalty. The room was packed to overflowing and yet you could have heard a pin drop at that moment.

“By all means,” he replied, astounded by her boldness.

“I am impatient to discuss the riddle,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Is that not why we have all gathered here?” There was a collective intake of breaths, including the king’s, and the princesses looked at each other apprehensively.

“I will be as forthright with you as you have been with me,” said the king, liking her more and more. “I have begun to lose my appetite for the answer to this riddle in my grief over putting so many to death. It does not bode well for me to knowingly send another, especially a woman, to her grave.”

“So you have withdrawn the decree regarding the riddle?”

“Well,” admitted the king, “I have not officially…”

“Have you refused other contenders who have come forward?” she continued, interrupting him and questioning him in the same tone one would use with witness in a trial. His blood was becoming heated by her audacity.

“No,” he replied, intentionally neglecting to inform her that he would have done so if it had been necessary, but no one had come forward to accept the challenge as of late. He had assumed that everyone else, like him, had given up ever discovering the truth about the shoes. But he did not like her tone and refused to explain himself to someone who was not even a constituent of his, and who had no better sense than to speak to him in such a way. Harmonia went on, seemingly unaware of his darkened mood.

“Aha,” she exclaimed. “So this kingdom, too, is afraid to accept a challenge from a woman!” The silent room suddenly came alive with a buzz of voices, low, hushed and excited. Harmonia was too upset to notice. How was she to succeed in the world if she was never given an equal opportunity?

The king, as it happened, had always considered himself a great advocate of women. He had altered many laws to support women, at the advice of his beloved daughters. He had even, over the years, heard traces of whispers that perhaps he had gone too far on this score, causing an inequity for men. It did not bode well for him to be accused of discrimination against women.

The king stood up in order to look down at the wizardess, and regain his sense of authority. “Harmonia Brist,” he thundered, “I will accept your challenge but it will be on my terms, not yours.” There was silence in the great hall now as the king continued, somewhat grudgingly. “Your bravery is to be commended but I will not be coerced into agreeing to conditions which I now find objectionable. Past wrongs do not make a right.” He took his time, deliberating as he spoke. He felt correct in withdrawing his original decree, with its cruel and unusual penalty for failure. However, in removing the high penalty he could not very well continue to offer half his kingdom; it would not be fair to those who had preceded her. He concluded, therefore, “If you still wish to solve the riddle, you may do so with impunity and, if you succeed where others have failed you may have any single thing from my kingdom that you desire.”

Now it was Harmonia who was surprised. She stared at the king, momentarily speechless.

“Well?” prompted the king. “Keep us waiting no longer. What happens to my daughters’ shoes during the night that causes them to become so worn by morning?”

The wizardess recovered from her shock quickly, excited now by this new opportunity. She stood perfectly straight, looking the king directly in the eye as she accepted the challenge. She spoke out in a loud, clear voice. “The shoes are merely a symptom of the princesses’ discontent,” she explained. “They are nostalgic and adjusting poorly to their married lives. It is by the sheer powers of their innermost secret desires that they come together each and every evening to dance their cares away, right here in this very castle, just as they used to do when they were children.”

There was silence. One did not know whether it was the simplicity of the idea that offended or the notion of the princesses’ “discontent.” Either way, it was clear that the king was not only disappointed, but annoyed. However, his voice remained calm.

“I suppose that is a clever reply,” he said evenly, “since you begin by flattering me that my daughters miss living here with me. Oh, that I could have them here forever but it is better that they should leave me to marry. Yet you insult me sorely to imply that my daughters return here without my knowledge or that we have not already thought to monitor their nightly activities and established that they have not left their beds during the night!”

The wizardess was unperturbed by the king’s demeanor and, in fact, smiled. “You will not see your daughters when they come here together in secret, because they enter through the doorway of their most secret wishes and remain through the power of their longing,” she explained. “For some reason, these cerebral activities are being made manifest only through their shoes.”

“You are not such a foolish wizardess after all,” remarked the king. “You find an explanation that cannot be proven or disproved.”

“It is proven by the worn slippers,” replied the wizardess.

“You have given an unsatisfactory explanation that cannot be proven!” bellowed the king.

“Father!” exclaimed the youngest princess at that moment. All eyes turned to her.

“It is true!” she murmured. “I have dreamed it!”

Suddenly the room buzzed with lowered voices. The young princess turned to her sisters, who seemed very confused indeed, wearing expressions of their struggle to recollect memories that were just out of reach.

“I apologize if my explanation did not satisfy,” continued the wizardess, raising her voice above the noise in the room. “But I assure you that the cure will be more to your liking.”

The room became silent again.

“The cure?” asked the king. “Do you mean to say you can stop my daughters’ shoes from being worn through during the night?”

“Of course,” said the wizardess. “Would I have ventured forth if I could not?”

“If you can accomplish this, you will indeed have solved the riddle,” promised the king. “So what is the cure?”

“It is different for each of the princesses. I must prescribe them individually. Within one week of following my recommendations, their shoes will cease being worn down during the night.”

“So it shall be!” bellowed the king. “You have one week.”

A cheer rang up in the room, for no attempt had been received so well thus far. The remainder of the night was filled with jolly celebration as hope sprung anew; until the next morning, when somber reality returned in the shape of twelve pairs of shoes worn clear through.




PRINCESS ATTENTIA


PRINCESS ATTENTIA WOKE UP THE MORNING AFTER THE GREAT FEAST FILLED with excitement. She was the only one of her sisters who had fully recognized the validity of the wizardess’s claims. She knew it was true; for she could recall in vivid detail the dreams where she and her sisters gathered together in their father’s castle each night, dancing away the hours. She also knew that she was not nearly as happy now as she had been in her childhood home. What surprised her was to learn that her sisters suffered similarly. They had all seemed, to her, so content and settled in their married life. No doubt she, too, appeared to be the same.

She was certain the wizardess could help. The fact that Harmonia Brist had identified the problem of the worn shoes gave her cause to hope. How wonderful it would be if she could become as joyful and content with her husband as she had been with her father and her sisters.

Princess Attentia put on her prettiest dress and sat down at her dressing table to style her hair. As she did so she thought about the wizardess. How beautiful she was! And oh, how Princess Attentia admired her. She wished that she were more like her.

Just then her husband’s head popped out from under the blankets. “What are you doing up so early?” he asked.

“I want everything to be perfect for the wizardess when she gets here,” she told him. “And you, too, should get up and make yourself ready.”

“Isn’t it a bit early?” he asked her sleepily.

“I don’t know when she will arrive, but I’m sure she’ll come here first since we are the closest to the castle.” With one last adjustment to her hair she approached the bed and sat close to where her husband lay. “I do so want her to like us.”

“How could she not?” he asked, reaching out to grab hold of her and draw her closer to him.

She smiled but pulled herself gently out of his grasp before he could rumple her dress. “I just want to be sure,” she replied.

He looked at her speculatively for a moment. “You seemed genuinely moved by her theories last night,” he remarked. “Are you unhappy, Attentia?”

“Of course not,” she replied automatically. She looked at her husband and was instantly charmed by his appearance. His face had a childlike quality while it was still flushed from sleep that clashed delightfully with the masculine stubble on his chin. His gentle gaze and husky morning voice captivated her. She loved him so much. Shouldn’t that make everything right? It seemed that it did not. She knew that he loved her, too, and that he wanted to please her. And yet there were times…

The door chimed just then, causing the princess to jump. “I knew it!” she exclaimed, running from the room.

Harmonia breezed in, looking exuberant and self-assured. She wore lovely bright colors that complemented her golden hair streaked with gray. She had a young, watchful expression, as her eyes took in everything around her. She carried with her a doctor’s bag of sorts, quite large and stuffed to overflowing. Princess Attentia wondered what was inside.

Princess Attentia apologized profusely for not having any refreshments prepared as she led the wizardess into their kitchen and immediately set about the task of making coffee.

“I have breakfasted already,” the wizardess told her, sitting down at the kitchen table. “What I would really like is for you to sit here next to me.”

The princess dropped what she was doing and sat down immediately.

Harmonia smiled at the girl’s eagerness to please. “Where is your husband?”

“Oh, he will be down in a moment. He didn’t expect you so early.”

There was silence a moment as the women looked at each other.

“Are you going to give us some kind of test?” the princess asked nervously.

“No, not really,” replied the wizardess. “Usually I can identify the difficulty by observing symptoms in people. Sometimes I have to ask questions. But once I know where the problem lies I can often produce the appropriate remedy.”

“So you’re like a doctor.”

“A bit,” agreed the wizardess. “Except that instead of medicine I use a lot of intuition and a little magic.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean there’s any chance of me being turned into a frog,” said the prince from the doorway, looking perfectly turned out as he joined them.

Princess Attentia laughed cheerfully as she looked her husband over with appreciation. He gave her a wink. The wizardess was charmed by the pair. But where was the problem? Was the princess simply unknowledgeable in matters of sharing pleasure with her husband? Or was there something else? She watched them carefully.

“You both seem very much in love,” she observed.

“Oh, we are,” the princess insisted earnestly. Indeed it is so, thought the wizardess.

“And you no doubt find each other very attractive,” she continued.

“Oh, immensely so,” said the princess.

“Perhaps too much so,” agreed the prince.

The wizardess stared at the prince for a moment. “Well!” she exclaimed at last with a look of satisfaction. “I have something here that will be of great benefit to you both.” She set her overstuffed bag on the table and began to shuffle through it determinedly.

“Have you detected our problem so quickly?” asked the princess.

“Oh, it is not so much of a problem at all,” the wizardess assured her. “You will by no means have difficulty in overcoming it. Ah. Here it is.” And she pulled from her bag a most extraordinary leather contraption.

“What is that?” asked the princess.

“It looks like some kind of a…surely it couldn’t be…” The prince stumbled over his words in stunned mortification. “A…chastity belt?”

“It is worn like a chastity belt,” admitted the wizardess. “But it does not serve the same purpose. This belt is charmed, as you will soon find out. The inscription on the leather will tell you all you need to know.” The wizardess set the belt on the table and stood up. “Wear it whenever your husband is nearby Princess Attentia, and all will be well. It is lightweight and as soft as skin, so it shouldn’t trouble you overmuch.”

“I don’t know…” said the princess doubtfully. She looked at her husband, who was still staring at the device in horror.

“The king has decreed that my instructions are to be followed to the letter,” Harmonia reminded them.

“Well…I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try it,” consented the princess. Her husband remained speechless.

“I must go now,” said the wizardess. “I have the rest of your sisters to visit. Goodbye.”

As the princess escorted the wizardess out, the prince picked up the mysterious belt from the table. It was indeed as soft as skin. He examined it closely.

“How does it work?” asked Princess Attentia, rushing back into the kitchen after having led the wizardess out as quickly as she could manage without being rude.

The prince squinted as he examined the inscription. “It says, ‘There is no key. The belt will open of its own accord at the opportune time.’” He looked up at his wife. “What do you suppose that means?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, put it on and let us see,” he suggested. For the moment at least, his sense of curiosity was piqued.

Princess Attentia tentatively accepted the belt from him. It was lightweight and soft, just as Harmonia had promised. She took the belt upstairs into their bedroom, with her husband following close behind her. She went into her dressing room while the prince waited for her on their bed.

The leather contraption fit just like any ordinary chastity belt, with surprisingly soft yet sturdy straps that wrapped around her waist and thighs to hold it in place. Between her legs there was a delicate, yet sturdy barrier that fit perfectly over her opening; so perfectly, in fact, that she could still perform all bodily functions without its getting in the way. The feeling of the supple leather straps wrapped around her thighs and waist gave her a little thrill. She lowered her skirts and went to her waiting prince.

“Well?” he asked expectantly. She blushed. “Let me see,” he insisted impatiently.

Princess Attentia raised her skirts. Another tingle shot through her as she bared herself for her husband.

The prince stared at his wife, naked except for the chastity belt from her waist down. Her little triangle of curls was the first thing he noticed. She was quite bare to his view except for the dainty straps that held the contraption in place around her waist and upper thighs. Upon closer inspection, which he immediately set to by kneeling before her, the prince noticed the little barrier that closed her off from him.

“The question is how we get it to open,” he murmured.

“What?” she gasped, becoming excited to have him examining her so closely.

“The inscription said it would ‘open of its own accord at the opportune time,’” he reminded her. “I’m just wondering when the ‘opportune time’ is.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully, although she was beginning to wonder. Could this be the answer to the many nights of unfulfilled passion, where she was always so close but never able to find her release before it was all over? Perhaps there was something to there being an “opportune time.” The princess was eager to find out. “Shall we test it to see?” she asked.

“I imagine we will think of nothing else until we do,” he agreed, and with his usual enthusiasm the prince hastily removed his clothes. Then he removed Princess Attentia’s dress. But as he stared at the leather straps that bound her and kept him out, he abruptly came to a halt.

Normally this would have been the ‘opportune time’ for the prince, but the chastity belt was still closed up tight.

The prince led his wife to their bed. She lay down on her back nervously, not sure what was expected of her. He stared at her for several minutes, taking in every detail of her body as she lay there waiting for him, wearing nothing but the chastity belt. This simple pause for contemplation was exquisite for the princess. To be looked at, studied and wondered over, like an intricate machine that had to be figured out, was in itself quite gratifying.

The prince approached his wife tentatively, trying to think of what she liked but realizing suddenly that he really didn’t know. He decided it was high time he found out. He lay on his side next to her, leaning up on one elbow. His body was hardened with arousal, but he mentally checked himself, using self-control to hold back the urges that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew that he would need to concentrate on the task at hand in order to maintain that control. He would take his time, moving slowly and carefully, so as not to miss the secrets that his wife had so far kept hidden from him.

He leaned over her and brushed his lips very lightly over hers, teasing her with the hint of a kiss and then moving away to do the same along her cheeks, forehead and shoulders. She delighted in the feel of his warm breath on her skin as she waited and anticipated his next move.

While his lips covered her with feathery kisses from the shoulders up, the prince’s fingertips began to lightly caress his wife’s body from the shoulders down in the same teasing manner. He circled his fingers nimbly over her skin, not grasping or rubbing, but merely hinting at touches to come. As he traced over her form, he took the opportunity to admire the curves and bends in her flesh, and the silky feel of her skin. Each time his lips came back to brush over hers, he noted her increased breathing and little gasping noises, and from these little signs he measured her readiness for more. He had decided that each and every advance from him should be craved before it was received. As his hands circled lower and lower, lightly flicking over every part of her, the princess arched her body and moaned, telling him without words that she was longing for a more lingering touch.

Once he was absolutely certain that the princess was truly longing to be kissed, the prince took her lips thoroughly in a deep, penetrating assault with his mouth and tongue. He realized now what the chastity belt was all about, and he guessed that it would not open quickly or easily. But he did not mind this in the least.

The prince continued to kiss his wife passionately until she clung to him, trembling. He broke the kiss then and whispered huskily, “Now we will find out what you like. Will you tell me or will I have to try everything and see what works?”

She was speechless.

He laughed and kissed her again. The touch of his hands came steadier and firmer, tracing the curves of her body as if to sculpt them. As he brought his hands up over her breasts he lovingly molded them in his palms before abruptly pinching the tips. At this, Princess Attentia moaned loudly.

“Ah,” he sighed with satisfaction. “There is something you like.” And he pinched the tips of her breasts again, a little harder this time. She moaned again and writhed beneath him. He leaned in close to blow on the reddened tips. She shuddered. He continued to play with her breasts in a leisurely manner, trying one thing and then another, and gauging her responses to everything he did. She reveled in the attention, but more than that, a passion was building inside her that she had never felt before.

After a while the prince moved his hands lower in a very leisurely manner, pausing to caress her stomach before he moved even lower still, and circled his fingers down closer to the chastity belt barrier. She lifted her hips up to meet his hand, pushing herself into him but he wanted to maintain control over the pace so he circled back up and around over her belly again, causing her to moan in disappointment. He continued to circle his hand round and round, teasing her, and each time his fingers reached down below her belly button she lifted her hips up to meet them, showing him that she wanted to be touched. Still, he refrained from touching her there in order to build up her anticipation to the point that when he did at last touch her, she would indeed be truly ready for him. And even when he finally made contact there, he did it lightly and fleetingly, passing over and around the sensitive area, to heighten her anticipation and excitement even more. His patient efforts seemed to be working, for she was consumed with a desire to be touched, writhing and bucking beneath him without a thought for anything but his hand.

He caressed her with the same fixation on her pleasure, leaning in close to explore her with his eyes as well as his fingers. This is when he happened to notice that each time his fingers flitted over one particular spot the princess moaned a little louder and thrust her hips forward with more vigor. He decided he would like to explore that area further.

The tender little spot was located just above her opening, which was still sealed shut by the chastity belt. However, the place that piqued his curiosity was fully exposed.

With his fingertips he felt all around the area, taking his time, ignoring her moans for the moment, and simply becoming acquainted with her body. He spread her legs wider and leaned in between them as he performed this examination. He leaned in so close that she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

At length the prince became aware of a tiny bump beneath her flesh. He had never noticed it before. As he played with it, it appeared to become more pronounced, seemingly swelling and hardening under his touch. This now, was something he understood!

With further investigation, which the prince continued in a very unhurried and thorough manner that was driving his wife wild with desire, he learned that touching the underside of the hardened and inflamed little protrusion caused her hips to jump and jerk away from him, but touching her just the right distance over the top of it made her entire body melt under his fingers. It was very similar for him, he marveled. But he still had yet to learn the correct rhythm and intensity for handling the little mound of flesh for just the right effect.

The prince experimented with many different strokes and caresses over the tiny bud of flesh, using varying levels of pressure from his fingertips. At length he found just the right combination of tension and pace with which to stroke her, and he settled into a rhythm that had her hips dancing in perfect time with his fingers. As her excitement grew she gripped the bedsheets with her fingers. He watched in astonishment as the chastity belt slowly opened.

The prince’s body ached to respond immediately to this invitation, but he forced himself to hold back just a little longer. He knew now, firsthand, how similar their bodies were, and he could relate only too well to how disappointing it would be for her if he were to stop his titillating caress. He could tell by the way she was writhing and moaning with such abandon that she was very, very close to finding satisfaction. Keeping perfect time with his fingers, he leaned in to kiss her where the chastity belt left her open and exposed for him. He let his tongue linger there affectionately, sliding up and down the length of her. Suddenly her hips stopped moving and she cried out loudly with pleasure. He could feel the pulsing of her inner body with his tongue.

He waited until he was certain she was thoroughly satisfied before rising up over her. Her eyes were shining and she appeared somewhat dazed. Her legs, which were still spread, trembled slightly. The chastity belt was wide open now and she reached her arms out to embrace him.

The prince slid easily into her body, and marveled at the way she felt. Her inner flesh was soft and swollen and soaking wet. He slid in and out of the thick, silky flesh, relishing in the way it clung to and around his hardness. The princess, fully satiated from the initial driving need that had previously consumed her, now found a new pleasure in the feeling that came from simply having her husband moving inside her body. She held him close with her arms and legs, kissing him feverishly. She felt all at once vulnerable and empowered. She savored her husband’s every stroke, without, for once, fretting over how long it would last. When his thrusts came faster and his time drew near, she felt a new and distinct surge of satisfaction, milder to her senses but more intense to her soul. It seemed that they were moving in unison and, for the first time in their marriage, she felt that they truly were one.

Afterward they clung to each other in surprise and delight.

“I did not know,” he said simply.

“I should have told you,” she admitted.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I thought there was something wrong with me,” she tried to explain. “I thought maybe my body wasn’t working right…or fast enough.”

“So you never…?”

“Sometimes…afterward,” she paused. “I would…finish.”

He groaned. “Never again,” he promised her. He kissed her face, ears, lips and everywhere. “I’m pleased with the belt,” he said at last.

“You are?”

“Definitely,” he continued. “It’s not just better for you. It’s better for me, too.”

“It is?”

“Yes,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I never knew it could feel like that.”

“It was different?” She could not believe they were speaking so frankly. Somehow the deeper intimacy they had shared sexually was giving them the freedom to communicate more freely.

“It was…amazing. Everything seemed magnified—your body felt warmer, softer, wetter…it was amazing,” he repeated, at a sudden loss for words. She blushed, delighted by what she was hearing. And then they were both silent. He was thinking about how loving his wife had been, and so eager to please him. He realized now that he had mistaken her eagerness for readiness. She wondered over how he had managed to learn her secrets so quickly and to satisfy her so expertly. If only she had known how easy and worthwhile it was she might have told him sooner.

Still, it perplexed her that his sexual satisfaction seemed to come from activity that was so separate and individual from her own. She had always thought that true love would bring about mutual fulfillment simultaneously. Had she been wrong about that?

These musings followed Princess Attentia throughout the rest of that day and into the evening. She decided this time to confide her thoughts to her husband.

“Do you think it is odd that we both get satisfaction from such different means?” she asked him pointedly when he came to her that evening.

“To be honest I was surprised to discover how similar we are in that regard.” He took her hands in his and kissed each of her fingertips.

“Well, but what I mean is, don’t you think we should come together in that way at the same time?”

“Oh, that.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose we could try,” he said at last with a grin. She laughed. “No, I mean it,” he said, getting serious. “Now that I know what pleases you I will just have to find ways to do that while we’re engaged together.”

“Sometimes when we have been together…before…I have felt pleasure by rubbing against you a certain way,” she began.

“But you never got the opportunity to find out where it would lead, eh?” he finished for her. “I must confess it is pure torture to feel you rubbing up against me like that. I will have to learn to exert more control.”

“And there might be other ways, too,” she mused.

“I am thinking of a few I would like to try right now.”

“Well, but there is still the chastity belt to contend with,” she reminded him.

“By ‘right now’ I meant some time in the next few hours, not this second,” he assured her. “We’re just going to have to accept that our bodies are different. Yours needs warming up, and I’m glad of that. It’s fun warming you up.”

With a giggle she pulled off her nightgown. She was naked except for the belt. They both looked at the dark leather contraption wrapped around her fair skin. There was something very sensual about the look and feel of it. Princess Attentia felt warm under her husband’s gaze, and her skin began to tingle with anticipation.

Once again the prince used his lips and tongue and fingertips to tease his wife into readiness for him. This time she reciprocated, and they both experimented with new ways to excite each other. It became clear that he needed much less encouragement than she, and they proceeded accordingly. She was careful to keep him excited enough so that he did not lose his arousal altogether without causing him to lose control. She found that she could she do this by giving him little bits of attention, such as short strokes from her fingers or little flicks of her tongue. She also discovered that he became quite excited when she showed him openly how his attentions affected her. He loved nothing more than to hear her cry out or to see her body writhing in excitement. There was no good reason to hold her feelings inside, for not only did it enhance the experience for him, but it did so for her, as well.

Soon the prince was once again stroking his wife in just the way she liked best and, low and behold, the chastity belt slowly opened.

“Shall we attempt it together this time?” he asked her.

“Mmm.”

He stopped stroking her and moved between her legs. “Let’s try it this way,” he said as he slid himself into her slick opening. Once he was settled nicely in her warm, wet body he slipped his hand between their bodies and resumed his stroking, carefully, with just the same tension and rhythm he had used before. It was only mildly awkward for him to do this; just enough, in fact, to keep his concentration on what he was doing to her instead of letting his body overrule his mind. At the same time he moved within her very slowly, so that he could enjoy it, too—but not too much. Soon her hips were gyrating wildly beneath his. Watching her beautifully flushed face thoughtfully, he perceived that this position would, indeed, allow them both to find fulfillment, if not simultaneously, then close to it. But now thatthe prince had learned to reign in his own pleasure in order to enhance Princess Attentia’s, he wanted to draw the experience out even further.

He abruptly stopped his caresses and pulled himself out of his wife’s body, smiling tenderly at her look of disappointment. “I can’t be certain if that was working well or not,” he teased. “Let’s try something else…turn around.”

The princess moved herself somewhat awkwardly onto her knees, but her arousal soon overcame her inhibitions. Her husband helped to arrange her body in the way he thought it might work best. Then he slid himself back into her body from behind, holding very still for a moment, and reminding himself that these little exercises in self-control would prolong the pleasure and intensify his and her satisfaction. He reached his hand around her hips to the place she liked best to be stroked and discovered that he could pleasure her from this position, too. As could she; for her fingers were already there!

Before long Princess Attentia was once again reaching the precipice of her desire. The prince watched in fascination as her plump buttocks moved round and round in front of him. All he had to do was kneel before her and enjoy the view. He found himself caressing her buttocks gently as they wriggled about. The pleasure was intoxicating, and it was all he could do to continue holding himself at bay, but through sheer determination he managed it. Time and again he would hold back the surge that threatened to overwhelm him. And each time he held it off it came back the next time feeling even better—and harder to resist.

The princess moaned and writhed about, delighting in the freedom this new position offered her. From this vantage point, it was remarkably easy for her to stimulate herself while fully enjoying the exquisite eeling of her husband moving slowly in and out of her from behind. She leaned comfortably on one forearm while she used her 0ther hand to pleasure herself. This position raised her bottom up 0igher than her head, considerably enhancing the feeling of having her 0usband inside her. And as for her husband, he was trying to find ways 0o not enjoy it quite so much.

But alas, the prince stopped her again, for he had become like a child with a new toy, curious to experience every aspect of it from every single point of view. This time he laid down on his back and had the princess mount him from the top. She gasped to feel him so deep inside her. She settled with her knees on either side of him, sitting straight up, but raised just a bit to ease the first bit of pressure. From this position also she could quite easily stimulate herself, and she slipped her hand down in order to do just that, but her husband’s hand slid in first and took up the task, applying just the right amount of pressure and motion with the thumb and middle finger. This time she rocked back and forth as his fingers caressed her, rubbing herself ardently against his hand. She clung to the hand that caressed her with both of her hands, holding it firmly in place to prevent him stopping again. With his other hand the prince caressed her breasts, pinching the tips the way he knew she liked.

The prince watched in awe as his wife rode him. Her breasts jerked about as her body bobbed forward and back over him. She stared at his face as she moved over him. The leather straps of the chastity belt strained over her opened thighs. He could tell by her movements that she was getting close to her time. And he was ready for her. But he wanted to make sure he waited long enough, and he focused all his concentration on the timing of it.

The time was drawing near. Very carefully, without stopping his caresses, he took her hand and led it to where he was rubbing her. Sheimmediately took up the rubbing with an expertise and vigor that amazed him. He grasped on to the leather straps of the chastity belt and held them firmly, waiting for exactly the right moment. He bit his lip in his effort to hold back the tide of his pleasure.

During this time of waiting for Princess Attentia, which was indeed challenging for the prince, he reached a point where he was able to observe the scene from a spectator’s point of view. The intimacy they were sharing staggered him. It was not just that he found pleasure in being able to please his wife, although this was something he enjoyed very much. But more than that, he had developed a new awareness of his wife’s needs that required from him attentiveness and self-control. His efforts in this regard bore fruit, strengthening his bond with her even as they strengthened her bond with him. How unexpected it was, to receive this kind of pleasure from giving. As the prince caressed his wife he marveled over these things. And she became more beautiful before his eyes as his hands helped bring her to life.

But alas, her time was indeed drawing very near. The prince watched his wife vigilantly now, gauging every movement and sound with a keen and exhilarating awareness.

At length he perceived a sudden change in the princess. Her body stiffened in an immense shudder, even as her fingers continued their frantic stroking. He felt his own excitement mount, barely contained as she cried out, and all at once he yanked on the leather straps of the chastity belt, pulling her forward and back as she had been doing but faster, and with much more force. He joined her cry with a deafening yell of his own. Then she collapsed over him with a sob. He held her firmly to stop her trembling until he realized that he was tremling, too. His body felt weak from the incredible pleasure of hisrelease and he could tell that she felt the same.

Princess Attentia was motionless for a while, but all of a sudden she began kissing him. She kissed his lips, his cheeks, his nose and forehead. She was elated from the powerful emotions that had been released with her passion. “Oh, how I love you!” she exclaimed.

“And I you,” he agreed when he could find his voice.

“It was so lovely,” she cried. “I feel so happy right now.”

He grasped her face in his hands and searched her eyes. “Do you think you might stay here with me tonight instead of slipping out to your father’s castle in your dreams?”

She stared back at him. “I wonder…?” she murmured.

And sure enough, the next morning—and every morning thereafter for that matter—the princess’s shoes showed no signs whatsoever of excessive wear.

Nevertheless, Princess Attentia and her husband have kept the magic chastity belt, and they use it to this very day.




PRINCESS CONSCIA


PRINCESS CONSCIA WATCHED HER HUSBAND FROM ACROSS THE KITCHEN table. He was so handsome that it took her breath away when she looked at him. She loved the time they shared together, and this time over breakfast was her favorite. With no pressure, she could simply enjoy his company without feeling she had to participate in things that were awkward or embarrassing in order to please him.

“I wonder what the wizardess will have to say,” she mused as she sipped her morning coffee.

“I can’t imagine,” said the prince. “Perhaps she will wrap your sexy feet in gossamer to keep them from flying off each night in your dreams.”

She smiled stiffly over this, wondering why the undercurrent of “it” had to enter into so many other parts of their life. Why was it so important to him? In the evening, when the lights were out, she could permit and even sometimes enjoy the sensations of it, but didn’t he realize how discomfiting it was for her to talk about it outside their bedroom? It was so humiliating to think about it after the fact. She didn’t think it was appropriate to reference those private matters during the day, especially not in the context of her shoes or feet. But there didn’t seem to be any subject that failed toremind her husband of it, and he enjoyed making comments to that effect.

She particularly disliked speaking of body parts in the context of “it.” What on earth was sexy about feet, for example? Even the parts used during the act, to her mind, were not especially sexy. She disliked the way they looked, in fact, which is why she insisted on doing it in the dark, if they must do it at all.

It was all just so bewildering. She supposed it was the price she had to pay to keep her husband happy, but still, she wished he didn’t want it so often. There were, sometimes, little pleasurable sensations, but the awkwardness made it impossible for her to enjoy them. She felt the positions were degrading and most unflattering. The noises embarrassed her. She shuddered to think what she must look like in the midst of it. And some of the things he suggested she do left her so shocked she could not even respond.

But they had loved each other enough to adjust and had settled into an arrangement where he, for the most part, fulfilled his needs in a timely and conscientious manner, with as little embarrassment to her sensibilities as he could manage and she, in turn, submitted willingly. She did enjoy pleasing him, provided he was considerate enough not to take advantage.

If only he would not persist in these inappropriate comments outside their bedroom, insinuating things from every scenario; things that simply added to her discomfort over that particular subject.

And now here he was again, trying to interject the topic of “it” into their discussion about the wizardess, where it could not be more out of place.

“It is not my ‘sexy’ feet which are wearing out my shoes,” she replied, trying to keep the resentment out of her voice. She did notwant to appear frigid or distraught, but rather, preferred to draw him back to reality with dignity and common sense. “The wizardess has already explained that our shoes are being worn out by our thoughts, not our feet.”

“Yes, but have you never considered what those thoughts might be?” he asked her.

“Why, of course,” she replied. “The wizardess has as much as said that it is homesickness for my sisters and my father’s castle. We had such wonderful times there. I do miss it.”

“I don’t think that is all there is to it,” the prince argued. “You didn’t forget that the wizardess also mentioned ‘discontent’ in your marriages.”

She stared at the prince, shocked by his bluntness. “It does not seem so outrageous that our new lives should be a bit difficult to adjust to after such an enchanted childhood,” she countered.

“Or perhaps it is something else,” he said, with meaning and emphasis.

So here he was, referring to “it” yet again! She ground her teeth and asked, “What else could it be?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he lied. “But I am very interested to hear what the wizardess has to say about it.”

She forced another stiff smile. “More coffee?”

Princess Conscia had been looking forward to the wizardess’s visit, but now she was suddenly feeling nervous. Would the wizardess think her a failure as a wife? Or worse, would she be expected to humiliate herself even further to her husband? Surely he would not be so debased as to bring “it” up while the wizardess was here!

She struggled for the proper words to caution her husband while she poured his coffee. “I hope you won’t impose your own ideas aboutthis on the wizardess,” she began. “I think it would be best to listen to what advice she has to give.” A little blush crept up her cheeks as she said this.

“What ideas are you speaking of that have you blushing so, my darling?” he asked her with a teasing smile.

“I don’t have anything in mind,” she lied, wishing she had held her tongue. There was no stopping him anyway, so why had she bothered to ask?

He took her warm, flushed face in his hands and held it until her eyes met his. “I, too, wait anxiously for the wizardess’s advice,” he admitted in a low voice. They were both silent a moment, until the front bell rang out shrilly, causing them both to jump.

The prince went to the door to admit the wizardess while Princess Conscia regained her composure. A moment later the wizardess entered their kitchen, observing the princess carefully.

“Do I smell coffee?” she asked casually, but she noticed everything as she spoke, from the blush on Princess Conscia’s face to the slightly gloomy yet determined expression of her husband.

“I hope I did not interrupt anything,” she said with a sly smile.

The prince and princess looked at the wizardess; he with surprise and her with horrified embarrassment.

“Oh, heavens, no,” Princess Conscia insisted quickly. “We were simply finishing up our morning coffee.”

“Actually,” her husband divulged, “we were trying to guess what you had concluded about the shoes.”

“Indeed,” laughed the wizardess. “That is good.”

“Really?” asked Princess Conscia. She had feared her husband’s bluntness might have offended the wizardess. She poured them all a cup of coffee and sat down, feeling a bit more relaxed. She did not,however, want the wizardess to inquire further about where their conjectures had led, so she attempted to divert this by saying, “Have you questions you wish to ask about my…um, shoe problem?”

“My observations thus far have, in fact, been sufficient for me to identify the problem,” replied the wizardess.

“But, you have only just arrived,” the prince objected. “Perhaps you have missed something important.”

“Oh, I have missed nothing,” the wizardess told him with a smile. “Everything you will need is right here.” She shuffled through the contents of her bag and finally pulled from it a long, brown cylinder. “There it is,” she said, handing the cylinder to the prince. “I think its best if you delay the treatment—or even discussing it—until late in the day, when you are both ready to retire. Please follow the instructions to the letter,” she admonished him firmly, “and its magic will not fail.” She swallowed the last of her coffee and stood up.

“But…” objected the princess.

“You may see me out, Princess Conscia,” interrupted the wizardess.

With an anxious glance at the mysterious object in her husband’s hand, the princess reluctantly walked out with the wizardess.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured.

“You will in time, my dear,” the wizardess assured her. But the princess was not reassured.

The prince, meanwhile, had opened the tube and removed from it a roll of white parchment and a paintbrush. The parchment was made of a mysterious substance that shimmered as it caught the light. Several sheets were stacked together on a roll. As he unraveled the parchment he noticed that there were instructions on the back of each sheet, and he began to read. A low whistle escaped his lips.

“How strange,” Princess Conscia remarked, returning to the kitchen.

Her husband made no comment as he quickly put the parchment back on the roll and slipped it and the paintbrush back into the tube.

“May I see that?” she asked him.

“No,” he replied.

“What?” she cried in shock. “But I wish to see it.”

“I think not,” he replied.

“Do the instructions say that I can not see it?” she asked.

“No,” he answered.

“Then for heaven’s sake,” she said, “allow me to see it at once!”

“I will show it to you when the time comes,” he replied with a note of finality that made it clear he was not going to give in.

“Do you mean later this evening?” she asked.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“When we are ‘ready to retire,’” she quoted from the wizardess.

“Exactly,” he confirmed.

“Not before?” she pressed.

“Not a moment before.”

What a long day that was for Princess Conscia! Whatever was in the strange, brown cylinder must not be to her liking, she mused, for her husband to have refused to allow her to even look at it. And yet how objectionable could it be, when it was recommended by such a dignified figure as the wizardess? It was impossible to imagine that Harmonia Brist, who commanded so much respect, would suggest something inappropriate.

And yet, why was her husband keeping it from her? He would not do so unless he had reason. The princess quickly deduced that the cylinder must contain something to do with “it”. That was the only plausible excuse she could come up with that would explain herhusband’s behavior. He knew that would upset her. But why would the wizardess recommend anything to do with that? And what could it have to do with her shoes?

She now regretted her promise to her father, the king, that she would do exactly as the wizardess instructed. But having given her word, she supposed all she could do now was to submit to whatever it was until the week was over. She was not pleased by it, even though she still didn’t know exactly what it was. But she was certain that it must have something to do with their activities in the bedroom. She had glimpsed the paintbrush and the white roll of parchment. Obviously the paintbrush was for painting on the white paper. No doubt it was her who was to be painted. This would not be something unappealing to her, unless…so that was it! She was to sit nude for her husband to paint. The more she thought about it the more convinced she became that this was the case.

Once she accepted the situation, Princess Conscia realized the best way to deal with it would be to prepare for it. She would surprise her husband by being ready and uncomplaining. He no doubt expected her to object, which is why he did not want to tell her about it until the very last moment. She smiled when she recalled that he had not gloated or even shown pleasure over the contents of the cylinder. She knew how much he must love the idea of having her sit before him without clothing. She was grateful to him for not only accepting her as she was, but doing so with kindness and discretion. Thank goodness it was him who she was obliged to go through this with.

She contemplated the matter all day, and by the time her husband was due to arrive home she felt almost as much excitement over the event to come as apprehension. She had slipped into their bedroom twice during the afternoon and removed her clothing so that shemight find the most appealing angle at which to position herself forthe painting. The body was so impossibly horrible without clothing in her opinion, but there were ways to make it seem less so. The first visit to her bedroom was hurried and frantic; the second more relaxed. She was glad she had gone the second time, as she was able to enhance the position in which she planned to pose for her husband. She adjusted the candles all around the room so that the light would be more flattering to her skin, especially in places where it tended to bunch up into those horrible little clusters of fat. She disliked that intensely. But between the lighting and the posing, which by now she had perfected, she felt certain that the prince would be properly impressed.

Even so, the beating of her heart was almost painful as she finally joined her husband in their bedroom that evening, wearing nothing but a robe. He looked at her skeptically.

Thinking to surprise him, she removed her robe calmly and perched herself upon the divan in the pose she had practiced earlier that day.

To her shock, he laughed with genuine amusement. “You certainly are a sight,” he said.

She reluctantly turned from her perfect pose and faced him. “Do you mean to say I don’t have to be painted in the nude?” she asked, almost disappointed.

“Oh, yes, you have the ‘painted’ and the ‘nude’ parts correct,” he said, becoming more serious now.

“Well?” she prompted, unable to even conjure up further possibilities without his assistance.

“The position you are in is not exactly right,” he told her. He paused a moment, allowing her to absorb this.

Her lips pursed slightly. “Should I show more of my backside?” she asked, perturbed. She had not practiced ways of making thatlook good.

“No, not your backside tonight,” he replied, trying hard to remain aloof so as not to alarm her. Any moment now she would likely be fainting or something equally dramatic, and all he could hope for was that his own calm demeanor would have the effect of making the situation more palatable for her. He casually opened the tube and unraveled one of the parchments. It seemed much larger than she had remembered. He examined the directions a moment. “You are supposed to lie down on your back…” he began cautiously.

To his surprise she did not object. She was thinking this might be even better. Lying down could be more flattering. She propped the pillows just so and lay demurely down on her back upon the bed.

The prince approached Princess Conscia, holding up the parchment and doing his best to keep his expression firm and serious. “Just a few little adjustments,” he explained, as he turned her head a little so it faced up, placed her arms out flat and then pulled her legs up toward her body. She resisted this last and sat up.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I am placing you in the position outlined in the instructions,” he replied.

“May I see?” she asked.

He paused another moment before turning the parchment over and holding the instructions up in front of her face. Her breath caught in her throat as stared at it. She was silent and still for several minutes.

“Shall I help you with the position?” the prince asked her at last.

“No,” she replied. “I will do it.” But she could not seem to make her body move. “Look the other way,” she implored him.

The prince had brought with him a bowl of water and now he brushed some of the water onto the sheet of parchment and placedit carefully on the wall beside the bed. When he was satisfied with its location he smoothed the parchment out over the wall. Next he arranged a nearby chair just so.

Meanwhile, Princess Conscia lay back down on the bed. Taking a deep breath, she bent her legs and brought them all the way up until her thighs touched her shoulders. She clasped her arms together behind her knees just as the instructions indicated. Her feet rested on the headboard behind her. She breathed out and in deliberately, trying her best to rest comfortably in the awkward position, but even her limbs were rejecting the unfamiliar pull on their ligaments as every part of her struggled to stay put and await the approaching events. A tingling sensation prickled sharply within her.

“Ready,” she said at last in a strangled voice.

The prince turned toward her and stopped. He stared openly for several moments, causing a rush of blood to engorge her exposed area. She could feel it beginning to warm and swell, even as she fought against her embarrassment.

Sensing her discomfort, the prince suddenly moved into action. He adjusted the light over her exposed flesh, warming her with the comforting heat of it. Her genitalia felt prickly and engorged. She continued to breathe in and out forcibly, achieving some degree of calm from the fact that she had given her word to do everything as instructed, and, too, possessing enough curiosity to want to find out where all of this might lead. If truth be told, it was not the end of the world to be laid bare in such a way under the deliciously warm lights, especially when the person she was exposing herself to was as kind and gentle as her husband. She knew that this would be especially pleasurable for him. Wasn’t he always longing to see more of her? Although she could not really see his face from her position, she imagined shecould feel his eyes upon her and it caused her skin to tingle.

“You are beautiful,” she heard him murmur. “It will truly take magic to capture on the parchment what I’m seeing here.” His husky voice sent vibrations throughout her body, beginning in the exposed area between her legs and from there coursing through every single vein and artery.

Princess Conscia felt as if she were in a dream. The moment did not feel like an actual part of her life, and it was almost as if it was someone else entirely who calmly replied, “I didn’t even know that you painted.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But it seems this is a magic brush that allows me to recreate an image I see by visualizing it on the parchment.”

“Oh, my,” she remarked. “What an amazing thing!”

“Yes,” he replied absently, concentrating wholeheartedly on the task in front of him. “The most remarkable thing is the colors. I simply dip the brush in water and it creates the exact color of whatever I am painting. I think I have an aptitude for this.”

Princess Conscia was as relaxed as she was capable of being in her situation, except for the spine-tingling vibrations that here and again assailed her senses. It seemed that all her awareness was focused on that part of her body that she spent most of her life trying to avoid. She was wondering what she looked like in this most unusual position, and tried to visualize the image that presented itself before her husband. All aspects of her consciousness were concentrated on the small amount of flesh that rested between her legs; even her heart seemed to be steadily pounding, pounding, pounding…from within that place. And with each pounding beat she fancied she could feel the flesh there becoming more and more engorged, swelling to enormous proportions until it seemed to be absorbing the rest of her body. Herbreathing was becoming more and more rapid. She tried to focus on something else but could not.

The prince noticed his wife’s discomfort and was amazed and delighted that her response was so similar to his own. He had thought she would hate every minute of this, but he saw now that he had misjudged her. Perhaps her previous anxieties in the bedroom were not caused by a lack of desire, but something else entirely. As he painted he could not help noticing her laborious breathing and the flushed and engorged flesh between her legs. His own body was steadily growing and hardening, and his breathing, too, was becoming more labored.

Princess Conscia wondered that her husband did not touch her. She had been thinking about the different ways he had stroked her before and how he might caress her now. Mostly she was just aching for the feel of his hands on her. Why didn’t he touch her? What would it feel like when he finally did? She had never wanted to be touched so badly. Her flesh seemed to be rising up into the air with its desire for contact. All her senses waited, alert, for him to touch her. While she waited she could almost imagine that she felt each individual ray from the warm light as it met her sensitive flesh. It was all she could do not to reach her hand down and stroke herself. What would her husband think if she did that?

The prince noticed that his wife seemed to be becoming more and more agitated. Every now and then her hips would jolt ever so slightly upward, causing his own body to surge forward in a similar manner. He longed to touch her, but concentrated on his painting.

Suddenly, the princess became aware of the moisture that had been accumulating inside her since the moment when she had first removed her robe for her husband. The pressure had been building until it seemed that she could hold no more inside and so, ever so stealthily, a single droplet began to push its way out through the thick fleshy walls. And she could feel it! She held her breath, trying to keep it in, but it continued its agonizingly slow descent. The thought of her husband noticing it, too, caused another surge of excitement in her that brought even more of the silky liquid to the fore. At length the little droplet squeezed its way out through the nearest exit point, where it sat precariously balanced on the warm, tender flesh. The princess expelled her held breath with a small, involuntary moan.

The prince heard her moan and his paintbrush stopped in midair. He noticed the little droplet then and stared at it, mesmerized as it sparkled and enticed in the warmth of the light. The instructions had been firm and clear in their edict that the painting be completed before anything else, but how could he resist that little drop of moisture and all that it signified? It seemed to be communicating something to him; something that he had been longing to hear since that very first night they had spent together as man and wife. He knew she loved him but he had doubted her need for him—until now. In that little droplet he seemed to find everything he had been searching for in his wife. And he wanted to respond to it. He wanted to touch it—and taste it. And yet he knew he must capture this moment first. He must finish the painting, if only to show his wife what he had seen. She would understand everything, he was certain, if she could just see what he was seeing. With a groan, he dipped his paintbrush in the water, trying with all his might to capture the exquisite beauty and all it meant with the strokes of the magic brush.

The princess was hovering somewhere beyond reality and fantasy. Nothing seemed real. She had never felt such longing. She hardly cared anymore what she looked like or how she appeared. She was a sensual being. She was, at that moment, like a flower that was open wide with its stamen exposed, and with nothing to do but wait. In a gesture she was hardly aware of, she slid one of her hands slowly and caressingly down along her leg and thigh, stopping just short of where the little drop still sat, trembling.

The prince groaned again. He would never finish the painting if she kept giving him more material to paint. He feverishly dipped the paintbrush into the water, altering the portrait adeptly to reflect her new position.

The last few minutes that it took for the prince to complete the painting stretched out for both of them like hours. The princess was in a highly excited and agitated state, and the prince was so hard that his body ached. At last, with a sigh of relief, he threw down his paintbrush and moved toward his wife, holding her legs in position now while he kissed her swollen flesh repeatedly, devouring the seeping wetness and burying his tongue deep within her. She cried out loudly, actually tightening her arms around her legs and even further exposing herself to him, terrified that he might stop. She gave herself over completely to the incredible pleasure she felt in at last being touched, no longer caring whether he touched her with his hand, or lips or tongue, just as long as he continued to touch her. The longing ache she had been feeling subsided a bit in relief from his touch, but behind the relief rushed a new tide of sensations that were building inside her with equal intensity. It seemed she was awash in pleasure, and she allowed the tide to take her to places unknown. Her heightened desire had diminished her consciousness of decorum and appearance. She was conscious only of the pleasure that her husband was giving her, and her growing need to follow where it would lead.

Her husband’s tongue was doing incredible things to her, and she was stunned by the pleasure it gave her. All she could do was murmur the word “yes” over and over again. She didn’t know how he happened to find the little spot he was massaging with his tongue or how he knew how just to rub it in just the way she wanted him to. All she knew was that she would die if he stopped. But then he did suddenly stop, and although she didn’t die she gasped in horror.

Before Princess Conscia could move or speak, the prince was inside her. He was kneeled before her bent body, leaning over her as he entered her. With one hand he held her legs in place—in the same position she held for the picture and which now felt to her like the most natural position she could imagine—and with the other he resumed the rubbing motions he had begun with his tongue. He moved slowly within her, pulling himself very nearly all the way out and then pushing himself back into her until their bodies touched.

The prince leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His wife’s body had never felt so deliciously soft and wet, but then, she had never wanted him this much before. Always something had held her at bay but tonight she was his completely. He relished in the feel of her and wanted to enjoy it for as long as she remained so receptive to him. He stroked her with care, wanting her to find satisfaction as badly as he wanted his own.

The princess was shocked to know that having her husband inside her could feel so utterly amazing. She thought she had found some pleasure with him before but now she realized that she had never come close to enjoying the full measure of that pleasure. In the position she was currently in, her legs still covered most of her view of the prince, and this small measure of concealment sufficiently shielded her from her usual timidity and self-consciousness. She clung to her legs and shut her eyes tight as she moaned and writhed with abandon. Her moans grew louder and she uttered little words in between, such as“yes,” and “please,” and “I love you”; not extraordinarily bold words,but little admissions, nevertheless, of her utter surrender and loss of control. She had always carefully held all such utterances back, so hearing them now had the effect of stoking the fire that already burned so hot in the prince. He bit his lip to maintain control as he stroked and caressed her.

At last the princess felt an amazing surge of agonizing ripples of pleasure rush through her. In an involuntary motion her arms collapsed to her sides and her legs fell open. There, between her spread legs was her husband’s face, staring down at her as she cried out, completely overwhelmed by the intense sensations. Seeing her face and knowing her pleasure was the prince’s undoing. He grasped one leg in each of his hands and spread them wider apart as he thrust himself into her one last time. He let out a loud yell. She stared at him wide-eyed, realizing suddenly that they had never made love with the candles lit before this.

Princess Conscia was astounded that she did not feel the embarrassment she had imagined she would under such circumstances. What she wanted was to hold her husband in her arms. He seemed to read her mind, for he carefully put her legs down and embraced her. They clung to each other for a long moment. He realized he had not even kissed her yet, and he did so now. They kissed with all the passion of forlorn lovers. Then the prince looked into her face with a grin.

“Aren’t you even interested in seeing the painting?” he asked incredulously. He thought that would have been her first consideration the moment he set down the paintbrush.

Princess Conscia gasped. “I had forgotten all about it!” she ex claimed, equally surprised by herself. They both laughed as they gotup to look at the painting. When she saw it she let out a little cry.

The prince watched her carefully. He could not tell if her expression was one of horror or delight. “I should warn you that one harsh word could cause me to give up painting for good,” he told her.

She laughed halfheartedly, and reached out her arm to touch him. She could not take her eyes off the painting. Was that how she looked? She could not believe it. The woman in the painting exuded sensual vulnerability. She held her legs lifted high as she bared herself for the painter. Her eyes were dazed, her lips were parted and her expression was one of utter abandon. Her fingers rested shameless in the curly nest of hair between her legs. A small pearl of liquid picked up the light as it squeezed its way through her swollen flesh. It was terribly revealing, and incredibly lifelike. It took her breath away to see it.

“Is that how you see me?” she said at last.

“It is,” he said. He tried to lighten the moment by adding, “On the rare occasions I get to see you, that is.”

“I never thought of myself in that…way.” She still couldn’t draw her eyes away from the portrait.

The prince drew Princess Conscia to him and kissed her. He said nothing, simply allowing her to stare in amazement at the painting. He still wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or disappointed by it. When she finally turned to face him there were tears in her eyes.

“I love it,” she told him. And he pulled her down with him onto the bed and they slept very well indeed that night.

The next morning, Princess Conscia was first to wake. She smiled when she looked at her sleeping husband. Slowly, the memory came back of their lovemaking the night before and then she recalled the portrait. She turned toward the wall and there it was. In the daylight it seemed even more graphic and a bit unseemly, but even so, the princess felt a little twinge of pride and desire curling up within her at the sight of it. Was she really that woman?

She felt her husband move and she turned to him. He was watching her. She was still unclothed and she blushed.

“It’s all right,” he told her. “You will get used to it.”

“I still can’t believe it’s me,” she admitted.

“It’s only one part of you,” he told her. He rose up and she noticed he was aroused.

“Perhaps…” she faltered, and bit her lip.

“Perhaps…?” he prompted.

“Perhaps…we should have pancakes for breakfast,” she finished with a little smile. She glanced at the painting one last time before dressing. She felt sure that if she truly was the woman in the painting she would have known how to say what she wanted to say. But even if she had known what to say, she was not entirely certain that she was ready for that kind of intimacy in the bright light of day.

Throughout the day, Princess Conscia repeatedly found reasons to return to their bedroom and look at the painting. Each time she did this she felt terribly excited about the evening to come. In what position would her husband paint her this night? She imagined several scenarios and each left her breathless.

At long last the evening came and her husband with it. She rushed toward him as he entered their castle, a little blush coloring her cheeks. He was delighted by the change in her.

At dinner the princess barely touched her food and once again the prince wondered at her behavior. It was almost as if she were anticipating the events to come. He had barely lifted the last bite of his food to his lips when she scooped up his plate and whisked it offto the kitchen. She was out of breath when she returned only a moment later.

“All cleared away,” she announced. Her voice had a slightly shrill edge to it.

“No dessert?” he teased.

She didn’t smile. “I, uh…thought with the heavy dinner…” her voice trailed off.

“Never mind,” he said. “I am well-satisfied.”

He was astounded by the wizardess’s astuteness. She had been perfectly right when she told him that she had missed nothing. All it had taken was a little push and his wife was quickly becoming the sensual creature he had always known she could be. He took her hand and led her wordlessly up the stairs to their bedroom, where she rushed into the bathroom to disrobe while he arranged the bed and candles, and set up a new piece of parchment. Daylight was just beginning to dim, and dusk was following closely behind her. There was a strange excitement in their bedroom, giving the air an electrical charge very much like it did before a storm.

Princess Conscia took deep breaths in an effort to remain calm. Even the preparations for the event were bringing about the most delightful sensations of excitement. Earlier that day she had trimmed the hair on her body and now she patted her flesh with scented powder. When the princess had arranged herself to her satisfaction she joined her husband in the bedroom. The lighting was spectacular and her eyes shone with excitement. She noticed that he had moved the bed to accommodate a new panel of blank parchment on a different wall. She glanced again at the previous evening’s painting and bit her lip.

“Ah,” said her husband, “here is my subject at last!”

She walked over to the bed. “How shall I…?”

He handed her the instructions for the night’s painting and watched her while she read them. Her face was pink when she handed them back to him, but she approached the bed bravely and removed the silken robe she had been wearing. His body hardened at the sight of her.

Princess Conscia’s heart pounded as she approached the bed. She had never known that women assumed such positions to be admired in. Of course she had heard mention of such decadence in hushed tones of mockery and had even succumbed to that position once or twice in the dark, when her husband had been quite insistent. But this was different. It was hard to control her breathing, but somehow she managed to gracefully kneel in the center of the bed with her legs spread far apart. She arranged the pillows just so and then crossed her forearms just below them. Then she lowered her head onto the pillows. She felt her back arch as her head touched the pillows, causing her hips to spread wider. She gasped at the feelings this position evoked.

At the sight of her the prince could have wept. He did not want to paint. He wanted to make love to her. And yet, he told himself, by painting her like this he would be able to enjoy the image many times over. With that he picked up his brush and repositioned a candle. A little groan escaped his lips as he began his task.

The princess heard his groan and knew well how he felt. The intimacy of it all was overwhelming. And yet, even as it overwhelmed her it also seemed to quell her inhibitions. She basked in the warmth of the candles as their gentle heat penetrated her flesh and radiated inward, imbuing her with a sweet anticipation for the moment when her husband would appease her. She knew he would take her exactly as she lay, just like he had done the night before.

The thought of it made her breath catch in her throat. The illumination upon her sex had the effect of accentuating this part of her life with her husband, underscoring the beauty and necessity of this aspect of her being. For this moment, at least, she was created for this, and she could not call to mind a single reason to shy away or abstain from accepting the pleasure that their bodies offered them. She knew that he, too, eagerly anticipated that moment when he would have her.

The prince marveled at the mastery of the enchanted paintbrush as he adeptly reproduced the extraordinary image before him. There was almost a supernatural quality to his wife’s appearance as she posed for him, which was awe-inspiring as well as exciting. He felt new and intense emotions overwhelming him before he could even identify them. He was completely disarmed by the sight of her, and struggled to concentrate on the task ahead of him.

The overall effect of this lingering delay in consummating their desire was an increased awareness and intimacy that would not only enhance their pleasure, but also draw them closer in other aspects of their life together.

Princess Conscia’s wetness was causing her body to open further to her husband’s gaze. Her hips seemed to reach out toward him, further extending the arch of her back. Every now and then an impatient sigh escaped her lips, and in her expression was a look of wanton abandon. The prince duly noted each of these little modifications to her appearance as he attempted to capture every detail on the parchment. He, too, sighed, impatiently, aching for the feel of her in spite of his absorption in completing the painting.

At long last the prince applied his final stroke, and he noted with delight that, with the help of the brush, he had captured his wife’s image so perfectly that the parchment appeared more like a mirror’s reflection than a mere likeness.

The prince set down the enchanted brush and approached his wife. Very slowly, he raised his hand and stroked one finger gently along Princess Conscia’s open slit, feeling her wetness. She gasped and moaned, thrusting her hips toward him so that she was pressed more forcefully against his hand. He reached down farther beneath her and found the sensitive part of her that he wanted to caress. Meanwhile, he resumed rubbing up and down the length of her open slit with his tongue.

Princess Conscia cried out with bliss. The pleasure was so intense that nothing else could penetrate her consciousness. She focused on her husband’s tongue and what it was doing to her with every bit of her awareness. Her hips pumped up and down as she rocked herself absently against her husband’s hand and lips and tongue. She was losing herself fully as she sought after the exquisite pleasure that she now realized she could get from him.

The prince did not want to disrupt the princess’s pleasure, but he felt he must be inside her or die. Her newfound excitement increased his own arousal tenfold, and so he, too, was finding something new and amazing in their intimacy that he had not felt before. He quickly and efficiently mounted his wife from behind. Her body seemed to draw him in and clutch at him, causing him to moan loudly. He forced himself to go slowly as he reached around her hips and resumed his caressing of her. He realized how much harder it was for her to become satisfied than he, and so he used self-restraint and diligence to support her. It was, after all, just as much to his benefit as to hers to do so. He had been astounded to find how much more intense his own satisfaction became when he put it off time and again. He was certain that this was no coincidence; he knew his increased pleasure was a direct result of his consideration for his wife. He wondered that he could have remained ignorant of the connection between the two for so long.

He was, in fact, becoming more capable in holding off his own pleasure in order to satisfy his wife. He could feel his command over his body strengthening. He stroked and caressed his wife leisurely, enjoying every exquisite sensation without concern for time. When the pleasure came close to being too much to bear, he slowed even more in his movements to hold himself at bay. With his new knowledge of his wife, it would be unimaginable for him to allow any weakness on his part to thwart her. He was determined that she be satisfied.

As he watched his wife’s hips wriggling around his hardened flesh and listened to her cries, the prince found it harder and harder to withstand the temptation to let the pleasure overtake him. There were a few times when he had to turn away from the luscious sight of her, and close his ears to her enticing cries. Pleasing her brought the most intense sensations he had ever known. It seemed to soothe all of his broken places and give him strength.

Princess Conscia rocked her hips instinctively. The pleasure was incredible. Her husband’s slow, measured movements were exactly what she needed to remain focused and keep her rhythm. They moved together in perfect harmony until suddenly the princess stiffened and shuddered, crying out convulsively. She closed her eyes as the waves of pleasure rushed over her.

The prince took one small moment to languish in the sweet satisfaction of satisfying his wife and the exquisite anticipation of fulfillment to come. He moved his hands over his wife’s backside, delighting in the soft feel of her and then, settling his fingers halfway between her hips and waist, he grasped her securely and thrust himself into her violently.

Princess Conscia was suddenly filled with a new and strange exhilaration that was at once thrilling and poignant. She had always wanted to please her husband of course, but never so much as she did while under the effects of this mysterious afterglow. Throwing the very last of her inhibitions to the winds, she opened her legs even wider and arched her back to thrust her hips up as high as possible, opening herself to her husband even more absolutely and completely, and willing his pleasure to be as wonderful as hers had been. Noting his groans of delight when she moved, she accelerated the rocking of her hips in the manner she thought he liked best. How delightful it was to be able to excite and please the one you loved best!

The prince half thought he must be in a dream. His wife’s response was so unrestrained and enthusiastic he hardly recognized her. That she wanted to please him he could clearly see, but his heart leapt at the fervor of her desire to please, and the pleasure she was deriving from it. All of this he perceived from her behavior; although he noted it unconsciously, for it was beyond his capabilities of self-restraint to resist such wanton surrender. His whole body quaked from the power of his release as he at last gave in to all of the pent up desire and stimulation. He let out a loud cry of satisfaction that caused the princess to tremble. He clung to her hips after the initial rush of ecstasy, momentarily dizzy from the intensity of it.

At last they collapsed together, entwined as closely together as they could get. She clung to him and he clung to her. They remained quiet, for words were not necessary. Princess Conscia wondered that she felt not the slightest uneasiness or embarrassment over her behavior. Quite the contrary in fact; she felt positively joyful and self-possessed. It seemed to her that she had learned something new about life and what she wanted from it. No more would she look backward for simpler pleasures. She had grown up.

The paintings continued throughout the years, although the need for them disappeared after that very first night. The exceptional artwork covers their bedroom walls completely, with erotic images of the princess in every imaginable position. Often the princess will find herself alone in that room, staring at the walls in amazement. The images never fail to arouse her. And needless to say, the princess no longer dreams of escaping her bedroom to rush away to her father’s castle and dance holes in her shoes with her sisters.




PRINCESS DEVOTIA


PRINCESS DEVOTIA PUT DOWN HER BIBLE AND ROSE UP TO GET HER husband more coffee.

“My dear,” said her husband. “I can get it for myself.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I enjoy getting it for you.”

It’s too bad, he thought, that my devoted little wife doesn’t enjoy doingthe things I want her to do for me. But alas, she was zealous to please him as it pleased her—not him—to do. He sighed in frustration and she looked at him.

“Are you still hungry?” she asked.

He was not sure how to answer that question. “Yes and no,” he said with meaning. But the doorbell rang before she had time to respond to this.

In truth, Princess Devotia wanted very much to please her husband, and she knew full well what he referred to in his little innuendos. It was just that the things he was always pining for did not always feel appropriate to her. For one thing, his desires were far too concerned with the gratification of the flesh. Surely that had nothing to do with love; for the heady sensations they evoked led to the kind of abandon that felt more like lust and greed. Love, she believed, hadmore to do with self-control and restraint.

The prince returned to his wife with the wizardess in tow, and Princess Devotia eyed her with a mixture of curiosity and distrust. She was wary of thoughts and activities that could undermine the beliefs she had collected since childhood about right and wrong.

Harmonia duly noted the princess’s prim appearance, the bible on the kitchen table and her guarded approach.

The wizardess was a spiritual woman also, but she had learned to rely upon her own inner conscience for guidance, rather than what certain men had set down before she had even been born. However, she had a deep respect for all fellow humans who were aware enough of their spiritual needs to seek guidance, provided they did not follow that guidance too blindly, to the detriment of themselves and others.

More importantly, she could see the glaring discrepancies between the husband and wife as she watched them, and she suspected she knew the reason.

“I could not help noticing that your castle overlooks the ocean,” the wizardess began conversationally. “I would dearly love to have a closer look at the view, if you would be so kind as to escort me,” she said to the princess.

“I would be delighted to,” replied the princess eagerly, for there was nothing she loved better than to be near the ocean, which to her mind was one of God’s most delightful creations.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Harmonia. “You don’t mind if we leave you here, do you?” she asked the prince, making it clear she did not wish for him to accompany them.

“Of course not,” replied the prince courteously. But he was disappointed.

“Shall we go then?” asked the wizardess, effectively dismissing the prince so that she might speak more candidly with the princess.

The ocean was like a living thing as the women approached it, with full white waves pushing their way onto the shore. The princess’s mood visibly improved as they came closer to the beach. The gulls screamed overhead. The sun was quite bright, but the air was cool.

“How glorious it is,” exclaimed the wizardess.

“It is awe-inspiring,” agreed the princess.

“What did you think of my conclusion regarding you and your sisters’ shoes last night?” the wizardess asked her, believing the princess would respond best to a direct approach.

“I think you may be correct about the ‘discontent’,” she admitted, surprising herself and the wizardess. “But I think my husband may be the discontented one more so than I.”

“You don’t say,” replied the wizardess, shocked by the girl’s honesty even while she admired and appreciated it. “Then perhaps it is his discontent that is causing yours?”

“I think you may be right,” Princess Devotia agreed. “I would be perfectly happy, I think, if only my husband would understand my position and be content, too.”

“I take it there is a difference of opinion over one matter in particular?” encouraged the wizardess.

The princess blushed, but she looked directly into the wizardess’s face. “Yes,” she said. “It is rather delicate.”

“I don’t need details,” Harmonia assured her. “I am more interested in the opinions and beliefs that are guiding your feelings. I think I may understand already, but I would like to be certain.”

The princess paused to think about it. “It seems that I am forever feeling guilty. If I resist the temptations of the flesh I disappoint my husband, but if I give in to my husband I worry that I am being unfaithful to my beliefs. Either way, I end up feeling that I have failed.”

“By ‘give in to,’ are you referring to being intimate with your husband?” asked the wizardess.

“No, not exactly,” replied the princess. It was harder to explain than she had expected it to be. “I know that it is permissible for me to have relations with my husband. That is how children are conceived. But I am uncomfortable with some of the things my husband wishes me to do and the…feelings and images that it causes me to have.”

“These feelings and images make you uncomfortable because they seem…sinful?” inquired the wizardess.

“Yes, exactly,” said the princess. “I know it sounds prudish but it is just how I feel.”

“My dear,” began the wizardess, “there is much in life that is so exhilarating as to appear sinful. That feeling of indulgence bordering on wrongdoing can be found in many things, from a lustful embrace, to a decadent dessert, to a glass of wine, and even to the intoxicating smell of this ocean.” She breathed in deeply as she said this.

“So how does one know for certain when these things become sinful?”

“That is for each individual to decide,” replied the wizardess. “I personally believe sin comes into play when a person hurts themselves or another. In the case of the decadent dessert for example, an overindulgence could mean the violation of one’s body through excess weight that could cause health problems. That would hurt the person indulging and those who love him or her. That, to my mind, is a very great sin.”

“And in the case of the…lustful embrace?” asked the princess.

“It is the same. To be able to give and get pleasure from another person in this way is a very special gift that should be celebrated and honored. To criticize or condemn the gift simply because it is so utterly indulgent and pleasurable is terribly rude and unappreciative. And to deliberately abstain from it or withhold it from one’s partner, without reason, I think, is quite unkind. Who of us has the right to put limits on any of the gifts we share here on earth?”

Princess Devotia was astounded by this speech. She had felt so pious in her struggles against the flesh that she had never even considered the origin of these struggles.

“Do you have a source for guidance, Princess Conscia…that is, do you base your beliefs on one resource in particular?” continued the wizardess.

Princess Devotia provided the details of her faith.

“Very well then,” said the wizardess, pulling a little black book from her bag. “Here is a little devotional, containing many verses from your chosen source of guidance. A word of caution though—beware of being too dependant upon the writings and interpretations of mere men. You cannot be certain that they are all speaking for our creator, and you would not want to follow an imposter.”

“How will I know?”

“Another of our many gifts is logic and a conscience,” replied the wizardess. “It is high time that you take responsibility for yourself, and use these gifts that you have been given.”

The princess stared at the wizardess. She had been taught by her religious teachers to be leery of anyone questioning their teachings and yet, wasn’t it true that she had the ability within her to decipher right from wrong? She knew that her conscience was indeed willing and able. Yet, wasn’t it her conscience that was most troubled when she succumbed to certain sensual pleasures with her husband? Or was it just an idea that had been put into her head?

“Walk me back, won’t you?” Harmonia said with a final look at the captivating ocean. The roar of the waves filled her with hope. So far, her day had indeed been exhilarating. She was doing what she loved to do, and doing it well. It filled her life with meaning to be so engaged. Furthermore, she enjoyed the challenges the princesses presented for her. Each of them held great promise of something wonderful in the palm of their hands that, with a little guidance, could easily bring them success in their endeavors and lead them to happiness.

When the wizardess had left her, Princess Devotia opened the little devotional booklet and began to read. It opened with a verse that read; “There is no fear in love, but perfect love throws fear outside, because fear exercises a restraint. Indeed, he that is under fear has not been made perfect in love.”

Princess Devotia read the verse several times over, pondering. Was it possible that fear was behind the guilt and shame, and not wrongdoing? She continued to read another quote from the little devotional. “And rejoice with the wife of your youth, a lovable hind and a charming mountain goat. Let her breasts intoxicate you at all times. With her love may you be in an ecstasy constantly.”

Well! That certainly echoed her husband’s opinions. This was advice from a prophet…why? She rushed to find that same verse in her own personal translation in order to discover its context. She located it easily enough and read the material that was put forth before and after the amazing little verse. Throughout the material there was much discussion of avoiding the sin of adultery. This she had never even considered; that in giving her husband pleasure, or “ecstasy” as the verse put it, she could actually help prevent sin, not to mention the horrible pain it would cause them both should temptation arise.

The princess was stunned. But why then did the most religious and pious always give this type of pleasure such a negative intonation? Well, as the wizardess had correctly said, the princess had a functioning mind of her own, and from this day forward she vowed to use it. With a renewed desire to seek out and find the truth, Princess Devotia continued to read, coming upon another interesting verse that read, “Let the husband render to his wife her due; but let the wife also do likewise to her husband. The wife does not exercise authority over her own body, but her husband does; likewise, also, the husband does not exercise authority over his own body, but his wife does.”

Princess Devotia contemplated this. It seemed to indicate that her husband had every right to do all of the things he wished to do with her. The thought of this gave her a little thrill. The thrill was immediately followed by a twinge of guilt. But this time she contemplated the guilty feeling instead of allowing it to automatically control her thoughts. She asked herself why a sensual thrill should bring about an automatic feeling of guilt. Was it conscience or habit that was the cause? She had been thinking about pleasing her husband when the thrill came over her, and there was certainly nothing sinful in that. Was it the thrill itself then that felt sinful? Was she afraid of pleasure?

Princess Devotia continued to read and think and examine her feelings in this way, until her mind could absorb no more. But she was quite recovered by the time her husband came home that evening, and willing to open her mind to him, as well as her feelings. She was prepared to accept the gifts her creator had seen fit to bestow upon her and, in fact, to embrace them without fear. With her usual zeal, she approached the marital bed with the objective to not only accept these gifts, but to enjoy them with an eagerness that would actually bring glory to the giver.

When she joined her husband in their bedroom that evening, she was groomed and dressed for his pleasure. That it titillated and excited her beyond her wildest imaginings to present herself to him this way, she refused to feel penitent for. Taking pleasure in giving surely did not make the giving less meaningful. In fact, she suspected her husband would also find joy in knowing that she, too, was getting pleasure; for hadn’t he been struggling to get her to accept that pleasure since the very first night of their marriage?

The prince immediately noticed his wife’s revealing attire with a little start of surprise. She approached him with anticipation; for once excited by the prospect of giving him the “ecstasy” described in the verses she had read earlier that day. She almost felt that in serving her husband she would be serving their creator.

Lowering her filmy gown timidly, Princess Devotia exposed her upper body to her husband’s gaze, recalling with a little tremble the advice she had read that said, “Let her own breasts intoxicate you at all times.” Yes, she thought, let them intoxicate him to the fullest!

The prince gasped when he saw her. His eyes drank in the sight that to him was beauty itself. He could not stop his fingers from reaching out to touch the full richness that she presented to him. At his touch she did not shrink away, but actually seemed to move toward him, reveling in the exquisite feel of his hands as they caressed her breasts so lovingly. He could not account for this change in her demeanor, but he would not question it, either. He lowered his mouth to taste of her flesh, and suckled eagerly at the tip of her breast, causing a ripple of pleasure to shoot through her and sending a surge of moisture between her legs in preparation for her body to receive him. And she could not help but reflect upon how faultlessly perfect it all was!

But her husband was in no hurry to take her. Whatever the cause of this little godsend, he intended to enjoy it to the fullest extent that his wife would allow. He continued to suckle one and then the other of her breasts, pushing her nightgown farther down with his hands, until it fell silently to the floor at her feet.

As her husband was savoring his exploration of her body, the words Princess Devotia read earlier that day rang in her ears— “Likewise, also, the husband does not exercise authority over his own body, but his wife does.” It was the same for her then, she realized. Just as she was surrendering her body over to him, he was obliged to do the same for her. Her hands began to trace over his sinewy muscles, delighting in the male strength of him. Her curious touches quickly led her to the object of her interest, and she grabbed hold of it; for it was standing proud and eager, pointing out at her from between her husband’s legs. The prince jumped at her touch, but he did not interfere with her hands as they continued to explore and touch. He seemed to possess the same desire as her, to own and be owned by the other. She imagined their creator watching as she stroked him, and suddenly it occurred to her that He would be pleased.

There was one thing in particular that her husband had always wished she would do, but without ever giving it much consideration she had dismissed it as too indulgent and therefore immoral. Now she could not recall why she had felt that way. What particular teaching or verse had validated that opinion? She did not know. All she knew for certain was that it was a way to give her husband pleasure, and wasn’t it within her rights to do whatever she wished with his body, short of hurting him?

She had been kissing the warm flesh over his chest and stomach and so she simply moved her kisses lower, until she spread her lips over his hard shaft and took him all the way into her mouth. This simple act of putting her mouth on him sent thrills of pleasure through her. Her husband responded also, nearly jumping out of his skin as she engulfed him in her mouth, and gasping loudly with his obvious pleasure. How lovely it must feel, she mused, for him to respond so. She licked and sucked his fleshy appendage with vigor, and every little moan of delight that escaped his lips made her quiver with satisfaction. She felt that by loving her husband so fully and fearlessly, surely she was embracing all that was right and good. The old guilt was nearly completely gone; replaced with a new fervor to “do onto others as you would have done onto you.” He had fulfilled her expectations of a husband in every way she had allowed; shouldn’t she, too, do the same?

Princess Devotia’s husband seemed to be thinking the same thing at that moment, because he stopped her suddenly to pick her up in his arms and place her lovingly on their bed. He kissed her hard on the mouth, passionately, and then asked her in a hoarse whisper, “May I, too, my love, partake of your banquet?”

“Indeed,” she replied, delighting in the knowledge that he wanted to please her, too. “I am yours to do with as you wish.”

His eyes widened and his head shook in amazement as he heard this, but he did not linger long in confusion. He lay beside her, facing in the opposite direction, so that both could enjoy the other at leisure and however they wished. He explored her with his fingers and tongue, using the little noises of pleasure that escaped her lips with the trembling responses of her body, to determine what she liked best. In short time he learned a great many of her secrets.

The princess, too, was quickly discovering the best ways to give pleasure to her husband, using her lips and tongue and hands. Suddenly it had all become clear, and his body no longer seemed illicit or depraved. On the contrary, it was as if he was an extension of herself, and she remembered vaguely an admonishment she had heard in their marital vows that “the two shall become one.” In accepting her husband and pleasing him, she was accepting the handiwork of her creator and pleasing him. In giving her husband more than the minimum service, more in fact than what was expected of her; she felt that she was honoring life. She delighted in this service and performed it to the best of her abilities.

On the other hand, the princess also assigned to her husband all rights to her body, splaying herself wide open for him to do with her as he wished, hiding nothing, and withholding nothing, and thereby allowing him to give her the pleasure he, too, had been instructed by their creator to give. If there had been shame in their marital bed before, it now occurred to her that it was the shame that she herself had brought in through the sin of self-righteousness, pride and apathy. She had been following the advice of charlatans, who had the impertinence to speak for their own creator.

Indeed, if any spirit had looked down at them in that moment, they truly would have appeared to be one flesh; for their embrace was absolute in its love and benevolence and passion, and they had reached that stage of ecstasy that visits the body and mind directly before the thrill of release and its subsequent exhilaration.

But the prince stopped abruptly, desiring all of a sudden to hold his wife within his bosom and taste her sweet moans when she reached the height of her passion. The princess acquiesced to the adjustment quickly, clutching her husband to her so earnestly that she practically absorbed him into her flesh. She perceived im mediately that her munificence with him had already paid back dividends, not only in her own heightened pleasure, or even the pleasure one gets from truly pleasing another, but, rather, the completely unforeseen bonus of having strengthened the bond that she had previously shared with her husband, and even creating a new, more genuine intimacy between them. Until that very moment, she had not even realized how desperately she had needed the intimacy.

All of these ruminations were rather fleeting and faint, like little epiphanies that hover unseen behind one’s consciousness, but have much impact on their behavior.

Meanwhile, with her body, the princess focused all her effort and energy on pleasing her husband and accepting the pleasure he offered. She was determined that they should find the ecstasy that was described in the verses she had read—the ecstasy that their creator had made available to them if only they would take advantage of it.

Without guilt, shame, pride, fear or any of the other negative emotions that had been preventing her from fulfilling her obligations as a wife and, indeed, as a human, she was able to not only accept the pleasure, but seek it openly. She moved her hips, and used her hands and anything else she could think of that might please her or her husband—they were both truly one and the same in her mind while thus joined.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/nancy-madore/the-twelve-dancing-princesses/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.