NancyMadore

by The Twelve Dancing Princesses

  She stared at him as if he slapped her. “I thought this was what you always wanted,” she whispered.

  “Well,” he remarked coolly, “wanting can be subjective. I think your situation is more urgent than mine at the moment. Therefore, I would like you to show me how much you want me this time.” While she had never put it quite so callously, it was certainly the way she had always made him feel.

  “Please,” she whispered. She never thought she would see the day when she would be begging him for sex.

  “How badly do you want it?” he asked her.

  “I…I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

  “Let’s see,” he said, unbuttoning his pants. “Last time I wanted you to take me in your mouth you felt I should prove to you how badly I wanted it…to the tune of a lovely green stone ring, I believe.”

  She just stared at him in silence, wondering how he could be so cruel as to withhold the relief she needed so badly.

  “Well?” he challenged, baring his hardness to her. She approached him finally, realizing that she had no choice but to give him what he wanted.

  “Wait,” he said. “First take off your clothes. I want to see your body.”

  She did this quickly, watching him as he watched her. Her eyes never left his, even when she went to her knees and took him into her mouth. She began the task rather resentfully but ere long she decided it was not so bad. She used her tongue and lips as deftly as she could to please him. “That’s it,” he murmured, causing her aching flesh to throb even harder. “Take it deeper.”

  She suddenly needed to make him want her as badly as she wanted him. She gave all she had to the task at hand, trying to gain back a little of the power she had lost. And she was actually enjoying it!

  “That’s enough,” he groaned suddenly. He pulled himself out of her mouth. She moaned in anticipation as he pushed her down on all fours.

  “Touch yourself,” he told her, hovering close behind her open legs. He wanted to see how she found satisfaction. He had always wondered if she did, and he was certain that she had never been completely honest with him about it.

  She put her hand between her legs and began to stroke herself while he watched. She rubbed herself self-consciously, obviously in an effort to entice him, spreading the little lips and opening herself to him. Although it pleased him to see it, he preferred at the moment to see what it took to bring her pleasure and satisfaction. He was beginning to wonder if she even knew.

  “I need you,” she murmured anxiously.

  “I’m not convinced,” he replied. “First show me where you like to be touched.”

  With her finger she pointed to her opening. “I want to be touched here,” she moaned. “Please!”

  “I want to see you satisfy yourself first,” he insisted.

  “What?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Surely you must know how to give yourself satisfaction?”

  She just looked at him. He was genuinely shocked.

  “Lie down on your back,” he said after a moment. She immediately obeyed.

  “Now open your legs. Yes, like this.” He maneuvered her so that her legs were parted comfortably, bent at the knees. Using the tips of his fingers he carefully felt around between her legs until he found the small nub of hardened flesh that sat just above her opening. Pressing one finger firmly but tenderly on the hardened tissue on top of the little nub, he slowly moved his finger back and forth over it. Princess Tartia gasped.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Now just relax and enjoy it.” Princess Tartia sat back in stunned silence. His rubbing seemed to be easing the tension even as it increased it. His fingers soothed her; yet they afflicted her, too, escalating the pressure, and driving her closer and closer to she knew not what.

  In no time at all the prince had her hips bucking and thrashing about, assisting his fingers as they kept up their gentle but firm rubbing, urging and encouraging of her. She had never been this aroused before in her life and had momentarily forgotten the disdain she had felt for this kind of lack of sexual restraint. Her need was so great and the pleasure his hand was giving her was so intense. But just as the pressure was nearing its peak he abruptly stopped.

  The princess looked up at her husband in horror. She wasn’t exactly sure what had just been about to happen, but she knew it would have been incredible. “Don’t stop,” she cried.

  “There is something I want you to do for me, too,” he said. “Press your breasts together.”

  She groaned, hating him. But she pressed her breasts together for him. “You will please me while I please you,” he explained.

  She held her breasts together for him as he rubbed himself back and forth in between them. She remembered vaguely how she had laughingly offered herself in this way to him in exchange for…what had it been? She could no longer remember. His fingers had begun their delightful caress yet again, and all of a sudden taking him between her breasts did not seem so disagreeable. She liked it, in fact. It was exciting to watch his arousal moving so close to her face. His fingers forced her to feel what he was feeling with a steady stroking that caused her own hips to move back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster, just as he was moving his hips. She watched him, fascinated as he pummeled her breasts. She recalled suddenly how she had demanded an extra gift from him once for allowing his pleasure to erupt over her face but now it seemed like the most erotic thing she could imagine. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but only got so far as to cry out loudly. The mere thought of such decadence brought her over the edge from arousal to a pulsating explosion of pleasurable sensations. Her whole body shook with the impact of her release. Her response brought an instantaneous reaction from the prince and he pressed forward one last time, spattering hot liquid all over her face, just as she imagined seconds before.

  The shock of the eel was at last subdued. But the princess was far from reconciled with all that had occurred. She had been shocked in more ways than one. She had always thought her husband selfish in his desires, never guessing that she would ever feel those same desires herself. She wondered if he felt the way she just did when he wanted her all those times; that aching, painful desire that separated everything from your mind except the need to be satisfied. Furthermore, why had no one told her that she, too, could get this kind of satisfaction from these intimacies?

  The hardest thing of all would be letting go of the power she had gained from their previous arrangement. What now did she have to bargain with? In truth, she did not really enjoy lording it over him in that manner. Thinking back, she realized she had started using sex as a weapon shortly after their wedding night, feeling justified by her anger that he got more pleasure from the marital acts than she did. Instead of talking to him about her feelings—or working on them—she began withholding and trading favors. At some point that part of her life had become a task and her feelings for her husband became more like those for an employer.

  That evening, Princess Tartia prepared a sumptuous dinner for her husband.

  “I want you to take the eel out,” she told him once he had eaten his fill.

  He looked at her skeptically.

  “I have learned my lesson,” she said solemnly. “I have thought about this all day and I understand now how you must have felt when I have manipulated you…in that way.”

  He was astounded as well as pleased by this confession, but even so, he wasn’t convinced. “Does the eel bring you discomfort having it inside you?” he wanted to know.

  “Well, no,” she admitted. “But I hate it. I’m afraid with it inside me.”

  “What have you to fear?” he asked. “If you have truly learned your lesson, as you say, the eel remaining inside you for a few days more should give you no cause for fear.”

  “But it does give me cause for fear,” she insisted.

  “Perhaps it is that you do not like the way in which the tables have turned,” he deduced. “Perhaps you fear I shall be as cruel as you have been in the past.”
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  This had indeed occurred to her and she remained silent.

  He chuckled, and then continued in a scolding tone of voice, “I promise not to abuse you, princess. I will use the eel with discretion.”

  This statement enraged and thrilled her and, unable to manage the conflicting emotions, she abruptly stood up from the dining table and fled the room. The tables had most definitely turned against her, just as he surmised, and now it seemed that she would be obliged to await his leisure in resolving the matter.

  Later that evening, when her husband joined her in their bed, Princess Tartia shivered with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. She wanted him to do to her what he had done earlier that morning, but she was not sure how to ask. There was a much milder sensation of desire growing within her now than there had been then, but even so; it wore on her nerves to have to wait for it to be appeased.

  The prince leaned over his wife in their bed. He brushed her hair away from her face in a gesture that was both loving and tender. “Are you feeling better?” he asked her in a husky whisper.

  “I want you,” she blurted out. He took a sharp intake of breath, searching her eyes to see if he heard her right. Satisfied that he had, the prince took her face in his hands and kissed her very affectionately. She embraced him, wanting a more passionate kiss and getting it. When the kiss was broken they were both breathless.

  “You see,” she told him candidly. “I really don’t need the magic eel anymore.”

  At this the prince’s expression turned cold. “So,” he said in a scathing tone. “You’ve changed, have you?”

  “Wh-what?” Princess Tartia stammered. What had she done?

  “You are still the scheming little shrew,” he stormed. “You seduced me most convincingly just now, but you still have to learn not to be so quick to name your price!”

  “Oh!” she cried. “That was not at all what I meant.” Tears came immediately to her eyes, but unfortunately, those, too, had been used too often to move him. Before she could stop him he had touched the magic ring.

  “No!” she screamed. But it was too late. The shock pierced her with an intensity that nearly lifted her off the bed. She squeezed her thighs together in an effort to quiet the horribly intense sensations that followed. It felt like pins and needles were oppressing and tantalizing her most vulnerable and private area and she reached her hand down to rub the place where her husband had touched her earlier. This brought some small measure of relief but she still needed more.

  “Oh, no,” she heard her husband say, grasping her hands and pulling them up over her head as he flung her down on her back. “You will not get relief until I permit it.”

  Tears continued to stream down her face as she cried, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. She struggled beneath him, but it was not in an effort to escape him but rather, to rub against him in an effort to somewhat assuage the incredible need between her legs.

  “Little vixen,” he murmured, kissing her tears away in spite of his anger. “I think you need to learn how it feels to want.” In fact, his body was aching nearly as much as hers, but he felt he should really make her suffer this time.

  “Please listen,” she implored.

  “Do you want me to satisfy you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

  “Will you pay my price for satisfaction?” he continued.

  “What is your price?”

  “Will you pay it, princess?” he asked her again.

  “Yes, anything,” she swore.

  But he loved her still, so how could he make he suffer?

  “Then my price is that you satisfy me, too,” he said at last. She opened her eyes and looked at her husband. Tears filled her eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy.

  “Just tell me how you want me to do it,” she said with a sniff.

  “Surely you know what I like best?” he reminded her. Of course, she thought, shamefaced—and isn’t that how she got the biggest presents from him!

  His benevolence motivated her to make up for past hurts by giving him her best effort at his highest pleasure. She positioned herself carefully over him, settling her hips over his chest to cuddle his face between her legs while simultaneously leaning forward to grasp hold of him in her hand. She stroked the bottom half of his shaft with her hand in the way she knew he liked best while she massaged the upper half of him with her lips and tongue. She leaned the heaviest part of her weight on her legs and belly, so that he could enjoy her in absolute comfort. She moaned in relief to at last have his tongue soothing the nagging ache, even though the raging fire was still burning hot within her.

  They both caressed and soothed each other exactly in the way they knew the other liked best. The pleasure was doled out in even parts, stroke for stroke, and as each partner became more impassioned, they struggled to give as much pleasure as they received. Pretty soon, their bodies were guiding the pleasure giver, so that all they really needed was the friction that person provided against their writhing bodies. The princess knew they would reach their climax here and now; for this was the prince’s favorite thing in the world, to have his face buried deep between his wife’s legs while she swallowed all of him down her throat. Each and every time they had done this in the past, the princess had walked away with a very special trinket, but this time she did it purely for the pleasure it gave her. She could tell the moment when he was ready to release himself in her mouth and found herself longing for the taste of him. At last when she felt the hot liquid erupting over her tongue and the inside of her mouth, her own body shuddered with a magnificent release of its own.

  In the afterglow she could have shouted. Giving her husband pleasure had brought her satisfaction! She felt that she was at last really and truly a wife.

  But in the morning it still plagued and worried her to be fettered with the eel, although she refrained from mentioning this to her husband. Aside from that, she felt very happy and contented, and found that she enjoyed her husband’s company more than she had realized. She sought him out later that day at lunchtime so that they might dine together.

  Now Princess Tartia dearly loved to shop, as you may already have surmised, and there stood in between the town’s various restaurants several of her favorite stores. As she walked along the street with her husband she spied, in one of the large shop’s windows, such a fabulous pair of ruby earrings that she momentarily forgot herself. With only the exquisite earrings on her mind—and how they would look in her ears—she immediately reverted back to her old ways.

  “Oh, my,” she cried suddenly, squeezing her husband’s arm. “What I wouldn’t give to have those!” She turned to punctuate this statement with one of her most suggestive looks, and without her even thinking about it automatically slipped her tongue out to play along her lip. But when she saw her husband’s expression her tongue stopped short and her look turned to one of dismay. It was now on the tip of her tongue to apologize for this slip but the prince had already touched the magic ring.

  To her utter disgrace, the princess was struck with the piercing sting of the eel right there on the public street! She grasped her husband’s arm in her absolute misery, trying to hide the tears in her eyes as much as the stinging epidemic between her legs. Seeing her discomfort the prince led her into a dark alley between the buildings. By the time he got her into the most isolated part of the alley, the smarting had subsided to a pulsing ache, and the princess reached between her legs. But the prince grasped her hand and held it cruelly behind her back. She cried out with frustration.

  “Do you still want the earrings?” the prince asked her.

  “No!” she cried.

  “You wanted them a minute ago,” he reminded her.

  “Yes.”

  “But now you want something else?”

  “You know what I want now!”

  “Yes,” he said. “And the price for what you want is the same as the price of those ruby earrings!”

 
; “I…I don’t understand,” she said.

  “You don’t remember the going rate for a pair of gemstone earrings?” he asked mockingly.

  She tried to concentrate. Yes, she did recall another similar pair of earrings. Suddenly she gasped. Her face turned bright red, remembering what she had offered him for them. The thought of it aroused as much as it horrified her. “Please,” she begged.

  “Right here and now,” he told her. She looked around. There was no one else in the dark alley but she still didn’t think she could do it.

  “If you will just…help me through this little problem now, I promise I’ll do that for you when we get home,” she told him.

  “I find I want satisfaction now, too,” he persisted.

  “You can’t be serious,” she objected. “Someone might find us.”

  “No one will find us,” he assured her and, indeed, the alley was quite dark and uninviting to visitors.

  The throbbing between Princess Tartia’s legs was becoming intolerable. “And you will…help me, too?” she asked him.

  “After you have satisfied me, yes.”

  He released her then, and Princess Tartia nervously lifted her skirts and slipped down her undergarments. There was a wall nearby and she leaned on it as she bent over, still holding up her skirt. Her backside was fully exposed to her husband.

  When he addressed her his voice sounded different. It was husky and low, sending titillating thrills through her. “Open your legs more,” he told her. She complied and at length she felt him prying her open from behind, in that forbidden place, where she remembered with shame having offered herself to him for the more expensive gifts that she desired. Now she was bending for him, accepting him there so that he might later give her pleasure in return. She moaned as he pushed his way into her backside.

  She had always disliked doing this for her husband, for there was a sharp discomfort involved in having him fill her that way. But on this occasion the discomfort inflamed her, making the throbbing ache she already suffered from multiply in its intensity. It did not come close to satisfying her; it solely had the power to antagonize and exacerbate her frustrated condition. She moaned her distress, swinging her hips to the agonizing thrills that rocked her body. Every thought that crossed her mind, along with every sensation that she experienced, tormented her more: the dark alley where at any moment someone might come upon them…perhaps someone was watching quietly, at that very moment, in one of the dark shadows…the steady pounding, pounding, pounding of her husband as he thrust himself into her…teasing and antagonizing her with his own pleasure while she suffered…even the feel of the cold wall on her hands as she bent before her husband had the power to send new waves of painfully strong desire pulsing between her legs.