Nice Couples Do

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  The slave who had brought her pushed her into the room and closed the door behind her. She bowed low and remained there, not knowing what she was supposed to do.

  “Come here, Serena,” the sultan said.

  Barefoot, she padded to the sultan’s chair. She wanted to cover her bare breasts but didn’t dare.

  “Do you know what goes on between a man and a woman?” he asked.

  Her reply was a blush that covered her entire body.

  The sultan snapped his fingers. Two slaves came forward and, with little ceremony, removed all his robes.

  “Look at me,” the sultan said. “Have you ever seen a naked man before?”

  Again, she was silent.

  He held his limp penis. “This is what I will use to open your love portal. I will show you how it is done.”

  Again, he snapped his fingers. “Anita, come here.”

  A girl of twenty, about Serena’s age, came forward. “I wish to show Serena how it is between a man and a woman,” he said. “Make me ready.”

  Anita got down on her knees and drew the sultan’s penis into her mouth. She sucked it deeply, then slowly pulled away and let her lips hold it tightly. She repeated her in-and-out movements until the sultan’s cock was fully erect.

  Serena shook as she stared at his huge erection. That cannot possibly fit into my body, she thought.

  “Show me what you have learned so far,” the sultan said. “Suck on it yourself.”

  Serena hesitated.

  “You must learn that when I tell you to do something, you do it. Without question. Do you understand?”

  Serena nodded.

  “I will let it pass this time. Should you hesitate again, I will have to show you my displeasure.”

  Serena knelt before the sultan and looked at his cock.

  “Touch it,” he said, “and put it into your mouth as you saw Anita do.”

  She touched it with her fingers and wrapped her hand around its girth. She wanted to please him but she was terrified. She shuddered, pulled back, and looked up at the sultan.

  He said nothing, but instead looked at one of his slaves. Serena followed his gaze. The slave held a whip, which Serena was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to use if the sultan ordered him to.

  “You understand. Now, do as you’re told.”

  She held him again, licked her lips, and touched her mouth to the tip of his erect cock. She felt him shiver as she took him deep into her throat. Then she pulled her head back but kept a vacuum in her mouth as she withdrew. After a few strokes, he grasped the back of her hair and pulled her face away.

  “You learn quickly,” he said. He pulled her upright, reached down, and poked a finger into the naked folds between her legs. She was still dry, but the sultan wasn’t surprised. He had lots of patience and this girl would be worth the wait and the trouble of training her.

  “Let me show you how fucking is done. Anita,” he called, “present yourself to me for fucking.”

  Anita stretched out on the bed, her legs spread wide. She touched her mound to demonstrate that, unlike Serena, she was ready for him to enter her.

  Serena tried to look away but felt the sultan’s hand wind in her hair. He gripped her tightly and held her head so it faced the bed. “You must watch how this is done so you may learn.”

  The sultan bent over Anita’s body and began to suck on her nipples. Gradually, as Anita became more and more excited, the sultan’s licking moved lower, until his tongue was firmly lodged between her legs. As Serena watched, he licked, pressing his tongue deeply into all the folds of Anita’s flesh.

  The sultan looked at Serena. “I wish to save my cock for you, my dear,” he said, “but there are ways to give pleasure without using my penis.” He turned back and worked his tongue over Anita’s swollen clit.

  Serena wanted to look away but she was also fascinated, so she continued to watch.

  The sultan’s tongue licked and flicked as he reached up and squeezed Anita’s nipples. He changed his cadence, first licking with quick strokes, then slow, long passes of his tongue. Suddenly, he plunged his tongue deep into Anita’s body. She screamed and climaxed.

  The sultan stood up and looked at Serena. “Do you see what pleasure a woman can get?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Would you like me to love you like that? It would please me if you wanted it, but it is no real matter. I will have you one way or the other.”

  Serena took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was surprised as she realized that she did want it. “I want to please you, Highness,” Serena whispered.

  “Then arrange yourself on the bed.”

  Serena stretched out on the bed. She already felt a tingling sensation between her legs and her juices made her slippery as she moved.

  The sultan leaned down and tasted her wetness. “You are already ready for me,” he said, smiling, “but I want to show you some of the joys that are in store for someone who learns to please and take pleasure.”

  He used his long fingers to hold her lips wide open and, first gently, then firmly, he licked and tasted her. As he felt her get more and more excited, he reached up and took one of Serena’s erect nipples in his fingers. Serena gasped as the sultan flicked her tight bud with the tip of his tongue and nipped it with his teeth while he pinched and squeezed her tender nipples. She thrashed her head back and forth as her body became more and more excited. Soon, Serena could stand no more. With the sultan’s tongue inside of her, she climaxed, screaming.

  Quickly, the sultan lay down on the bed and pulled Serena on top of him. He raised her to a sitting position, then lifted her hips and impaled her slippery body on his erection.

  “I like to see your beautiful breasts right above my face.” He took one nipple in his fingers and pulled her over so that her breasts hung over his mouth. He lifted his head and took one in his mouth and suckled.

  He sucked and pumped upward until his penis erupted.

  Moments later, the sultan lay back on the bed, satisfied.

  “You learn well,” the sultan said. “Now you can retire for the night and rest up for tomorrow’s lesson. There are many more things to learn.”

  MIRROR, MIRROR

  Once upon a time, there was a princess in a tiny kingdom. Princess Veronica had long golden hair and a heart-shaped face with blue eyes and soft pink cheeks. Her lips were small but promised a sensual kiss for any man who would dare to kiss her, but no one ever had kissed the princess. She was her father’s oldest child and, as such, she was heir to the throne. Therefore, from her birth, no one had been allowed anywhere near her except her mother—the queen—and an array of nurses, governesses, and tutors.

  On the day of her eighteenth birthday, Veronica’s father threw a lavish party for her. He invited everyone of importance in his realm and handsome princes from every one of the adjoining kingdoms. It was time to choose a husband for the princess.

  Huge tables were set up in the great hall of the castle to accommodate the hundreds of guests. A sumptuous feast was served and everyone ate heartily. During the meal, the king carefully pointed out each of the princes and extolled his virtues, it mattered very little to him which of the eligible men she chose, as long as she chose one quickly and started making little princesses and princes of her own. The princess studied each of the princes and tried to imagine what it would be like to spend her life with one of them. She knew that her father wanted only her happiness and would listen carefully to her wishes.

  After dinner, the dancing began and Princess Veronica danced with each of the suitors. She talked with each of them and tried to imagine joining her life with his and jointly ruling the large kingdom.

  “They’re all so dull,” she quietly told her mother. “One is more boring than the last. The idea of being closed up in this castle with any one of them makes me miserable. They treat me like some delicate flower, incapable of any feelings. I doubt that any one of them would even touch me, except maybe once a year when it w
as necessary to make another baby.”

  Her mother smiled indulgently, but she also realized that there was no escape from the need to make a decision that weekend.

  After the dancing, gifts were presented to the princess. Her parents gave her a small château for her and her prince to live in after their marriage, before she became queen. Each of her sisters gave her a beautiful hand-embroidered gown covered with precious jewels. Dozens of wealthy landowners from throughout the land gave her gifts, as did each of the hopeful princes, one gift duller than the last. By the end of the evening, the princess had seventeen golden goblets with various precious stones, six diamond necklaces, and three new carriages, each with liveried drivers and footmen. It was all she could do not to yawn in everyone’s faces.

  Just when Veronica thought all the gift giving was finished, a short, motherly-looking woman bustled into the back of the hall. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, puffing, “but my gift was late in arriving, and my coach broke a wheel. But here I am, darling Veronica, and it’s time for my gift.”

  As the woman bustled down the center aisle of the great hall, Veronica heard a gasp. “It’s Queen Bella of Maravia,” someone said.

  Queen Bella was Veronica’s godmother but, because of the war between the two countries, she hadn’t seen her goddaughter since Veronica’s fifth birthday.

  “What’s that woman doing here?” the king muttered. “We’ve been at war with Maravia for more than ten years. I’ll have her thrown out.”

  “Hush,” the queen said under her breath. “She’s Veronica’s godmother and the trouble between our kingdom and hers occurred when Veronica was just a small girl. They exchange letters and so Veronica is very fond of her. I won’t have you making a scene at this party.”

  The king relaxed a bit. “As long as she’s not here to make trouble.”

  Veronica smiled broadly. “Godmother,” she said, “I’m glad you came.”

  “Yes, yes, dear,” her godmother said, “it’s good to see you, too, in spite of your father.” Queen Bella glared at the king. “And you’re so grown-up and so beautiful. Let me give you my gift so you can use it this very night.”

  The godmother clapped her hands. Four footmen marched dramatically down the center of the great hall, carrying a large, flat, square package.

  With great ceremony, Veronica’s godmother unwrapped the gift and revealed a large gilt mirror.

  “Hang this mirror on your wall tonight and gaze into it,” her godmother said. “It is said that if a princess stares very hard into this magic mirror and says, ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the most perfect man of all?’ she will see the face of her prince charming.”

  Veronica didn’t believe in magic but she loved her godmother and wouldn’t hurt her feelings. She walked over to her godmother and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Godmother,” she said. “I will hang the mirror this very moment.”

  Veronica said a hasty farewell to the guests at the feast and hurried to her bedroom, followed by the four footmen. It took very little time for them to hang the mirror on the princess’s wall.

  When the task was completed, the footmen left and the king, the queen, and the princess’s godmother entered.

  The king was still muttering under his breath because Veronica’s mother had made Queen Bella welcome despite his objections. She had even found a room for her for the night.

  The king and queen bade their daughter good night. “A mirror,” the king mumbled as he and his wife left the room. “What kind of a gift is that?”

  Her godmother kissed Veronica good night and started to leave. As she was about to close the door behind her, she turned and winked at the princess. “Use the mirror tonight and I am sure you will be well pleased.”

  Quietly, Queen Bella closed the door and left Veronica alone, standing before the mirror.

  After a long hesitation, Veronica decided that she had nothing to lose. “Mirror, mirror on the wall,” Veronica said, feeling very silly, “who’s the most perfect man of all?”

  She stared into the mirror and saw nothing but her own reflection.

  “How foolish I am,” she said aloud, “to believe a silly legend.”

  Sadly, she realized that she would have to marry one of the boring princes. Slowly, she removed her ball gown and slippers, her camisole and six petticoats. She carefully put her jewelry away in beautiful velvet boxes. Dressed only in her silk pantaloons, she stood in front of the mirror one last time and looked at herself. Her breasts were small and high, her nipples large and dark. Her waist was tiny and her stomach flat and smooth.

  She reached up and touched her naked breasts. She watched her hands in the mirror as they slid over her smooth flesh. Slowly, she swirled her fingertips over the pale skin around her now-erect nipples.

  She heard herself purr as her fingers pinched and pulled at her nipples, making them project from her chest, hard and hungry. Her hands began to stroke her flat belly and then they slowly slid down under the waistband of her pantaloons. Her eyes closed so she could savor the feelings.

  “What a waste,” a man’s voice said from behind her.

  Her eyes flew open. In the mirror, she saw the face of one of the footmen who had brought in the mirror. He had entered her bedroom silently while her eyes were closed and now was standing just behind her back. He was peering over her shoulder at her naked body.

  The footman had straight dark hair and light gray eyes. His features were handsome and his body was tall and muscular.

  “How d-d-dare you enter my room?” the princess stammered.

  “I entered in your moment of need,” the handsome footman said. “My name is Charles and I’m here to serve you.”

  He reached around and cupped one breast with each of his hands. He tickled her nipples with his fingers as he bent his head and pressed his warm lips against the nape of her neck.

  “You mustn’t do that,” the princess protested. “I’m a princess and no one must touch me.”

  “I am touching you,” he murmured into her neck, “and you are enjoying it.”

  Her knees felt weak and his tongue swirled over the back of her neck and his hands teased and pinched her nipples.

  “You must stop,” she said weakly. Her head fell back and rested against the footman’s chest.

  “Open your eyes,” he said softly, “and watch what I’m doing. I want you to see everything.”

  Veronica opened her eyes. His long fingers were pulling at her breasts and she found that watching did enhance the pleasure.

  Her arms hung limply at her sides, but her palms ached to feel the footman’s flesh beneath them. Slowly, the man’s hands began to inch down her body. His palm stroked her flat belly as hers had done only minutes before.

  When his fingers reached the silken bow that held the top of her pantaloons, he pulled one of the ends. The bow untied easily and the silken material soon lay in a heap around her feet.

  “Watch in the mirror, Princess, as I give you pleasure.”

  His fingers began to probe her mound, threading their way through her silky hair toward her wet, open center. Her body sagged against him, but she continued to watch him pleasure her.

  Charles backed up until the backs of his legs were against the bed. Still reflected in the mirror, he sat down and pulled Veronica onto his lap, with her back against his chest. He spread her legs and held them apart with his knees.

  Veronica had never seen herself this way before, her pussy wide open, with the footman’s fingers playing with the folds of her flesh. She could feel his hardness pressing against her lower back. As she moved her hips in rhythm with his fingers, her buttocks rubbed against his erection.

  Despite his rising passion, he continued to play with the princess’s wet cunt. His fingers slid partway into her but then pulled out before she felt any satisfaction. Again and again, he teased her as he alternated between her opening and her clit, swirling his fingers through her moisture.

  Her eyes never left t
he mirror as she soared higher and higher. She placed her tiny pale hands over the footman’s large bronze ones as they stroked her body. The footman recognized her need and, with her hands on his, he inserted first one, then two, and finally three fingers deep into her. He pounded in and out while his other hand stroked her clit.

  As she watched her hands and his giving her pleasure, she felt a tightening in her belly. What’s happening to me? she wondered. It’s so beautiful and so terrible. This heat inside of me will never stop.

  Higher and higher she climbed until, suddenly, she climaxed. The footman felt her body contract against his fingers. Waves of pleasure flowed over her and her juices filled his hands.

  When her body subsided, he stood and undressed. As she watched him, he said, “I would like to make love to you but I cannot, not yet. Would you give me pleasure like I gave it to you?”

  She smiled and nodded. He took her hand, wrapped it around his cock, and showed her how to stroke him and fondle his balls. It took only moments until his semen spurted into her palm.

  He lay down on the bed next to her and they both fell into a light sleep.

  Later, they talked together. “You must leave,” she said. “No one must know about this.”

  “Wouldn’t you like me to stay?” the footman asked.

  “More than anything,” she said. “But I’m a princess and you will be killed if anyone finds you here.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” The footman chuckled.

  “Stop taking this so lightly!” she snapped. “It’s serious. Tomorrow the king will announce who my husband will be, and if he knows about you, he will have to kill you.” She turned her face to his and kissed him. “It would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  “Then why don’t you marry me?” the footman replied. “Didn’t the legend say that you would see the face of your husband in the mirror?”

  “It did, but you are just a footman and I must marry one of those dull princes whom my father invited to meet me.”