The prince did not mind, or in truth even notice, the princess’s present lack of effort on his behalf, for he was fully absorbed in pleasing her. His whole being swelled and delighted in the knowledge that he could give his wife so much pleasure with his touch. He wanted to make her cry out. He needed to feel and taste it when he satisfied her.
The prince continued to caress and lick his wife patiently, unconsciously moving his hips up and down over his wife’s eager mouth as he did so. Every now and then he would dip a finger deep inside her and shudder when he felt how warm and swollen and wet she was. Afterward, he promised himself, he would delve all the way into her and enjoy the warm silkiness to the fullest extent, but for now, he continued diligently, careful not to rush, or rub too hard, or to do anything to prevent his wife from finding satisfaction.
In due time the princess’s body stiffened as she was swept over with waves of rapturous pleasure. The prince noticed this and could not resist sliding one finger all the way into her body to feel firsthand the little quivers and contractions of her orgasm. It seemed that he could feel her little spasms of pleasure throughout his own body, as well as around his finger.
Now the prince had been truly patient throughout this encounter so far, enjoying each and every moment for the poignant and delightful sensations that they brought him. But now all he felt was his own need to be satisfied. He turned himself around abruptly to face his flushing wife and spread her legs wide. She cried out as he entered her, but not in pain, for she was well prepared to receive him. The prince, feeling the wet evidence of his wife’s pleasure on his body as he took her, was brought to a passion that bordered on violence. He grasped her by the hair as he crushed her lips with his. This seemed to bring his wife back to life again and she moaned and wiggled beneath him. Her hands reached around him to pull his hips farther into her. This action inflamed him further, and he grasped both her hands and forced them high above her head, holding them firmly in place. Once again, his forcefulness acted like a fan to her flame and her whole body began to writhe and thrash about beneath his. Again and again, her responses repeatedly inflamed him, until he was no longer conscious of his actions as he took her with a blind fury.
The princess clutched the prince with her legs, since her arms were still stretched high above her head in her husband’s viselike grip. Her whole body was shaken by the passion she witnessed in her husband. She was again obsessed with the desire to please him, and aware that he was now in that same tunnel where she had previously been, insensible to everything around him except his pleasure. She opened herself up to him completely as she clung to him, reveling in his strength and power and passion as she felt his whole body tighten and convulse.
Afterward they clung to each other; the prince basking in his wife’s soft openness and the princess trembling in the aftermath of surrender. Both had completely forgotten about the mask.
The prince was the first to come back to the present. The memory of the mask came back to him in a rush, and he sighed. It was not really his princess but the mask that had given him pleasure. And yet, he could not help but wonder if it were possible to make his bride respond this way without the mask.
He looked into the face of his princess. She was still under the influence of the mask quite obviously, for she returned his look with no embarrassment or pride, but with real pleasure on her face. How long had it been since she looked at him like that? He thought that perhaps this was his best opportunity to get through to her, while she was so receptive. He could try to get her to understand why he made the decisions that he did. He knew that she was particularly upset with him about his newest project, the tower, and thought this might be the perfect time to take her out to the project and show her how important it was.
The prince got up from the bed, pulling the princess up with him. “Come,” he said. “Get dressed. I have something to show you.”
The tower, when completed, would be taller than any other structure in the kingdom. The prince had designed it himself. It would house many weapons, and many soldiers when necessary, so that from within it they could protect their royal castle and the surrounding community. A spiral staircase up the center of the tower was added to carry soldiers to varying heights and positions along the fighting wall, and give them the greatest advantage over any foe at almost any distance. The tower was still in its early stages, but even so, it was an impressive sight. The prince approached it eagerly with his wife beside him, while workers buzzed all around, taking the fortress farther and farther into the sky, with masses of rocks of all shapes and sizes, laid together in such harmony that it appeared as if they were made for each other.
The princess gasped at the sight. She had always been so consumed with resentment over her husband’s lack of consideration for her that she had never really paid attention to what it was he was actually doing. All she had been able to think about was that he was doing what he wanted, without regard for her wishes. That what he did was significant or impressive moved her not; it was already tainted for her by the way in which he had decided to do it.
Thus it was that now, for the first time since their marriage, the princess was able to look upon her husband’s proceedings without bitterness. And the princess was genuinely impressed.
And so the day continued most pleasantly, with the prince supervising the construction of the tower and the princess watching everything, awestruck. He took her by the hand and showed her each and every detail, encouraged and delighted by her approval of what she saw. The day passed very quickly indeed, with the prince certain that he had finally gotten through to his wife.
However, only with nightfall would the moment of truth arrive. The time was quickly approaching for the prince to remove the mask; indeed, he could already feel the power of it wearing off. He could almost see the exact moment when it became ineffective, for in that instant he saw in the princess’s face such a look of loathing that it took his breath away.
The princess was staring at her husband with pure hatred. All the events of the day rushed through her mind from her perspective as it was before he had put on the mask, and all her bitterness and resentment came rushing back in a startling wave, filling her with such a powerful surge of anger that she thought she might actually strike him.
How dare he? She actually blushed when she remembered how he had taken advantage of her that morning when she first came under the influence of the mask. The mask!
She held out her hand to him, trembling with rage.
“Now, husband,” she said in a low, menacing voice, “it is my turn. Give me the mask at once.” For the first time in their marriage she could tell him what to do. For the first time in their marriage he would have to listen to her!
“I think we should talk about this before—”
“Give it to me!” she screeched.
“I can’t give you the mask when you are like this,” he said calmly. “You might do something we’ll both regret.”
“You should have thought about that before you put the mask on this morning,” she railed at him. “You don’t think I regret that?”
“I’m sorry to hear that you—”
Once again she cut him off. “You’re not sorry about anything. You think you don’t have to keep your end of the bargain—not with the mask and not with our marriage.” To her dismay, tears started to come to her eyes. Quickly, she buried the hurt, as was her habit, under her anger. She looked at her husband more calmly.
“Well, husband,” she said in a challenging tone. “Are you going to honor the arrangement and give me my turn with the mask or not?”
The prince looked at his fierce little wife. He felt no small amount of trepidation over the irrational things she might do with the power of the mask while in her emotional state and, yet, how could he possibly deny her? He sighed. He could not renege on their arrangement. He had had his turn, and now it was hers. Whatever she did with her share of the power, he would just have to undo later. He took off the mask
and handed it to his wife. Strangely enough, he felt a small but pleasurable relief as he gave over the mask. What was the worst that could happen?
The princess’s fingers snatched up the mask from his hands before he could change his mind. She looked at it with something akin to madness, so excited was she at the thought of having some power at last, even if it was only temporary. She trembled as she brought the mask to her face. When it touched her skin, she felt such a surge of authority and power that she was nearly lifted from the ground. She heard a small cry escape her lips.
The prince watched this phenomenon with a mixture of horror and amusement. He still felt apprehensive about what his wife might do, but he could not help smiling at her trembling excitement over the opportunity to have the longed-for power. The look on her face was priceless, making it difficult for him to dwell on what such palpable happiness might cost him. In short, the prince found himself quickly coming under the charm of the mask.
Now you might think that the princess, as her first order of business, would immediately force her husband to return to the tower to tear down all his efforts of that day. But as a matter of fact, her first act of power was to gather together a group of workmen, that the aforementioned demolition might be done more quickly and efficiently.
Upon arriving at the tower, however, the princess realized that this first impulse would not be in her best interests. For one thing, she had formed a genuine, if grudging, admiration for the workmanship and beauty of the tower as it stood. And for another, she was not so silly and naive that she did not recognize the necessity for a tower to protect their castle. She was in favor of this protection. But more than anything else, the princess realized that if she destroyed all of her husband’s efforts, she would be no better than he. And even worse than that, she would prove his theory that she was not to be trusted with authority.
Therefore, she quickly formulated a plan that would incorporate her aspirations into his existing project. Once she had made up her mind to work within these boundaries, it became quite simple to implement her additions. Indeed, it almost appeared that her embellishments to the tower had always been part of the plan; they fit so neatly into what her husband had already done.
When the prince learned of his wife’s ideas, he was filled with admiration for her. Why hadn’t he thought of this? Why hadn’t she mentioned it before? He immediately began ordering his men this way and that, offering triple wages if they could make the princess’s creation come to life that very night.
Much later, near morning, the princess threw herself down on their bed, laughing. She had never known such joy. The tower was truly magnificent. It would now bring beauty and life even as it sturdily protected them from harm. She should have been exhausted but she wasn’t tired in the least. She felt her husband crawl into the bed next to her, and she looked at him curiously. He was smiling at her now, but she felt a sense of dread for when she would have to remove the mask.
The prince stared as his wife in amazement. She was so sweet and soft; it had never occurred to him that she could also be practical and clever. But then, he realized, he was perhaps too quick to generalize people and things. Who would have thought, for example, that a tower could bring pleasure and beauty, as well as protection? Her ideas had turned their fortress into a haven. During times of fighting, there would be warmth and comfort present to keep the soldiers reminded of what it was they were fighting for.
He wanted her. But more than that, he wanted to please her. He remembered earlier that morning, how she had surprised him by enjoying it when he became a little rougher with her, and he pulled her to him just as he had then—except that now he did it to please her and not himself. He put his fingers in her hair and felt at the plush softness for a moment before grasping a handful of it and yanking it back gently. When her face and lips were just where he wanted them, he searched her eyes for a moment before crushing her lips with his. His heart delighted to hear her little gasp of excitement as he kissed her.
And the prince ravished the princess, using the same procedure as he had that morning. Only this time he used his power and force only as he knew it would please her. This time, when he pulled her hair, or pinned her arms to the bed, or even experimented with new ways of making her submit, he did it all for her pleasure. That it pleased him beyond his wildest dreams was outside of his consciousness for the moment. He was single-mindedly preoccupied with the new knowledge he was gaining about his wife, and how he could use it to bring her pleasure.
But alas, the pair slept, and morning was already upon them. The power of the mask had mysteriously gone from the princess during the early morning hours and she woke suddenly to face her husband’s disapproving glare.
“Tell me it was only a nightmare.” He spoke slowly, in a dangerously calm tone, directly into her blinking visage.
“Oh, no,” she murmured, disheartened. But the old familiar anger was already beginning to creep back into her consciousness, waking her up with a jolt.
“I knew I should not have trusted you with the mask,” the prince continued in the same, nerve-rackingly calm tone. “Conniving little—”
“How dare you!” the princess interjected with authority. “I had every right to do whatever I wanted.” She raised her head a notch as she faced her husband. “And furthermore,” she added smugly, “when I had the power I considered your ideas and thoughts more than you have ever considered mine.”
The prince ignored this comment entirely. He put out his hand with authority. “Hand it over, princess,” he demanded.
The princess hesitated. How she hated the thought of losing the delicious power of the mask! She was suddenly filled with regret. She had tried to be responsible and thoughtful in how she used the power, and this was the thanks she got. She was seized with such a sense of injustice that for a moment she thought she might actually really hate her husband, and she wished spitefully that she really had done something terrible with her power the night before, so that at least she would have deserved this denunciation.
But more than anything else, she dreaded the thought of giving her husband the mask.
“Do you promise not to change anything I’ve done?” she asked him.
“Do you dare to make stipulations to me?” he asked, his eyes burning fierce, his voice raised so that all his strength and authority were visible to intimidate her. He was incensed by her audacity. For her to have interfered in his project while he was under a spell and thereby helpless to stop her—and now this? He took a step toward her and said in a low, menacing voice, “Give me the mask or I will take it from you.”
Princess Resentta felt a strange tingling sensation course through her when he said this. She wondered how it would go, if he decided to “take it” from her. Would the forcefulness of the ensuing struggle bring about any other emotion in him besides his insatiable lust for power?
Her hesitation while she considered these impudent thoughts gave him a jolt. She actually seemed to be mulling the threat over with amusement. His body tightened as he watched her contemplate, actually contemplate, his challenge! He believed he might be losing control of her, even as he felt a strange new admiration and anticipation over what that might mean. He truly didn’t know what to do next.
But luckily, his wife gave in without him having to take any further action. She removed the mask and placed it into his hands with a little sigh. Then she silently watched him as he placed it over his face. The alterations to her perception of him were almost impalpable, but ere long, she once again felt the familiar sense that she was absolutely and thoroughly in her husband’s power. However, it no longer bothered her. She marveled that she could still feel any desire to please him.
At her changed expression, the prince felt the slightest, almost imperceptible loss, but he did not stop to consider it. That he had possibly enjoyed that little rebellion of his wife’s was probably no more than a momentary recurrence of the strange malady he had suffered last night while under the influence
of the mask. But he could not afford to give in to it. He would reclaim his authority here and now.
But alas, the confused prince could not so easily brush aside his newfound desire for his wife. His mind worked diligently to push the errant thoughts out of his head, thinking he should not reward, but punish her. He fought off the aching tightening of his body, determined to prevail against it.
The princess, meanwhile, approached her husband and took his hand in hers. She looked up at him meekly.
“I want you to understand something,” he began sternly. “This is not a joke. I have to make decisions every day that affect our lives and our livelihood.”
“I know that,” she said.
“Someone has to take charge and manage the day-to-day responsibilities,” he continued.
“You’re perfectly right,” she responded.
He had a sudden impulse to take off the mask, but he resisted it.
“If you really believe somewhere in that mixed-up little head of yours that I am right, then you should try to show support for what I am doing instead of always trying to criticize and manipulate every task I take on,” he persisted.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” she asked innocently. He looked at her face. It was free of guile.
The prince had had enough. He tore off the mask. “Now tell me what you think!” he yelled at her.
She stood silently stunned. But in a moment she recovered.
“I think you’re a beast and a bully,” she told him.
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