NancyMadore

by The Twelve Dancing Princesses

  But alas, the frozen chip had melted, leaving her aching for something more.

  “Do you want more?” her husband asked, perceiving her loss.

  “Yes! Oh, yes!” she cried.

  He had been licking her all the while but now he slipped another chip into his mouth and then with his tongue once again pushed it far up into her. Her head moved back and forth on the pillow as she endured the tantalizing sensations all over again.

  “Oh, surely…?” she moaned, thinking there must be a way to harness this pleasure.

  “Yes,” he answered her. “We will get to it…just slow down.”

  His voice, so calm and low and delightfully reassuring, instructing her in this way was having a strange effect on her. She listened through the music, waiting restlessly for his next directive. But presently his tongue was busy licking hungrily at her trembling little opening. He stopped again for a moment to slip another ice chip into her. She cried out with excitement as she received it.

  Now the prince, perceiving Princess Toilla’s readiness, slipped his fingers up over the top of her and began searching for the small, cartilage-like knob of flesh that sat directly over her opening, about a half inch up, right in the center. Just as the wizardess had predicted it sat there swollen and quivering, never having been fully awakened from its overlong slumber. He settled his finger over the top of it, applying a small amount of pressure as he gently moved his finger back and forth and around it. His wife’s hips stopped moving suddenly, and she lay as if paralyzed by his touch.

  “Does that feel good?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she sighed, unable to collect all of her strength or find her voice.

  “Tell me you like it,” he insisted, wanting to keep her fully focused on the activity so as to maximize her excitement and further ensure her success in finding satisfaction. As he rubbed, he picked up another little ice chip with his other hand. He would indeed keep her focused on the task at hand!

  “I like it,” she whispered obediently. She was beginning to get lost in her desire again, for the music had never stopped, nor the images, nor his finger, nor his instructions, nor even the tantalizing stinging of the ice, as he slipped another chip far up into her, causing her to moan loudly.

  “Say, ‘I want you to keep touching me.’”

  There were so many erotic sensations fighting for her attention, between the music and the images and the piercing cold and his deep voice issuing instructions, she could hardly think. Mostly though, there was his finger massaging her in that place where everything came together. She was terrified that he would stop. She mechanically obeyed him, crying, “I want you to keep touching me.” The voices in the music seemed to be echoing her cries. The drums continued to pound out the rhythm of her heart. Her hips had started to move again, and now she was rubbing herself against his hand, for her instinct had finally kicked in and she knew that somehow that little place he had discovered was just like the magic genie in the bottle, and that with enough rubbing something very magical would surely happen. She moaned in delighted agony as she struggled against his hand.

  His sexy deep voice was saying, “Just relax and enjoy the sensations…we have all night. I love touching you.” Or was it the voices in the music? She wasn’t sure. Her head swam in time with the erotic images on the wall. She wanted him inside her and she told him so.

  “No, not tonight,” he told her, not without difficulty.

  She became upset by this. “But…”

  “Maybe afterward then,” he assured her to quiet her agitation. “But only if you try hard and you’re very good.” This seemed to bring her back on track so he added, “You are going to try very hard, aren’t you?” She moaned loudly, grinding her hips even harder into his hand.

  “Tell me you’re going to try very hard,” he continued, seeing her excitement over this type of questioning.

  “I will try,” she moaned. She closed her eyes but her mind seemed to conjure images that were more graphic than those on the wall. She tried to push the images away, but they persisted. Her imagination was running away with her and she began to visualize things she had never thought of before, things that surely were not natural or done. Was it the music that put those images in her head? Her hips moved furiously against her husband’s hand.

  “Tell me you’re going to try very hard,” he persisted, slipping in another chip of ice with his free hand.

  “I will try very hard,” she cried out, moving her hips faster with each question he put to her. Several times already she had reached the brink of something only to get too excited or afraid, and lose it completely. She could feel it coming upon her again, and once again her mind seemed to want to change directions and revolt, but she squeezed her eyes shut and forced her thoughts to remain with the images—the very worst ones, in fact—where in her mind’s eye she was doing unspeakable things that perhaps her husband might not even approve of. The music helped to push her along as she dwelled on the forbidden images, murmuring all the while, “I will try, I will try.”

  “That’s it, princess,” her husband coaxed her, amazed by her efforts and how much it aroused him to watch her. He slipped yet another ice chip into her quivering hot opening.

  She was still chanting, with eyes squeezed shut, “I will—Oh!” The ice pierced her flesh just as her release came upon her, so that the effect was intensified and lengthened. Her hand flew down to where her husband’s hand stroked her and she held it still, trying desperately to hold on to the incredible waves of pleasure that tickled their way through her body, seemingly meandering through her very veins.

  The prince watched with delight as his wife was consumed by the pleasure. Her eyes were still shut tight and her body was rigid and tense. But at length she relaxed and lay still and limp.

  The prince was on fire.

  Princess Toilla was soft and trembling as she wrapped herself around her husband. The wizardess had recommended that he focus solely on her that first night, so that the princess might learn to find pleasure without worrying about his pleasure, or him waiting for her, but how could he help it, with her so warm and willing, and especially after he promised to take her if she tried hard, which there was no arguing she most certainly had?

  So he slid gleefully into her, and neither of them had realized it could feel so good. For him to be inside her when she was so wet and well satisfied was indeed an amazing thing. His body shuddered violently as he struggled to hold off his own release so that he might linger in the sweet, tender folds of her swollen flesh for as long as humanly possible. For her, feeling him inside her softened body brought delicious little ripples of pleasure that, although not as strong in their intensity as her earlier pleasure, brought tingling little reminders of what she had just enjoyed. Suddenly she felt that she was truly making love, and she marveled at the glorious feeling.

  The next day was a long one for the princess, spent in anticipation of what was to come. She felt like this was her real honeymoon. The night came at last with the same measures of lights, music and touching. The princess had rushed to their bedroom, and by the time she was bathed and naked upon the bed she was already in a state of arousal. She approached the marital bed with anticipation instead of anxiety, and she was amazed to find that this had a huge influence in her ability to enjoy what followed.

  This time, when the prince perceived her readiness, he instructed her to lay on all fours on top of him but facing opposite him, resting her head on his stomach with her forearms and knees resting on the bed on either side of him. In this position, her hips were spread wide open and high in the air…and positioned directly in front of her husband’s face. But shyness was not her problem, especially while such wild images flickered over the walls and the low, throbbing music filled her mind with ideas that seemed to come directly from the suggestive voices of the musicians. Furthermore, this position forced her to be fully aware of her sex. No sooner had she settled herself on the bed over her husband than she was tingling an
d wet.

  She forced her head to remain rested on his stomach as instructed, even though she knew he was hard and aching to be touched just inches away from where she lay.

  He began much like the night before, moving his hands over her and caressing the shape and feel of her. Soon his finger slipped into her wetness and she began the little exercises that strengthened her awareness as much as they strengthened the little muscles that contracted with her pleasure. All the while he encouraged her like before, stroking her backside with one hand while he monitored her progress with his finger. She found she was much more easily excited now, and her hips rocked with the music while she obediently kept up with his orders to tighten and release. Indeed, it had by now occurred to her experienced mind that this exercise actually mimicked the contracting of her muscles that occurred during her orgasm, except that she was doing it much slower than when passion brought it along of its own accord. Was this exercise helping her then? It certainly seemed that the simple act of doing it made her more aware of the capacity for pleasure that always waited, dormant, between her legs, until such times she decided to awaken it.

  “Take your time,” she heard her husband tell her in his deep, reassuring voice, but the music seemed to be whispering for her to move faster, so she did, wiggling her fanny with delight as she imagined her husband’s eyes watching her. After she finished her exercises he rewarded her with his tongue, wiggling it deep inside her while his hot breath scorched the tender skin on the outside.

  She could hear the rattling of a cup and knew that he was collecting an ice chip for her. She began to whimper in anticipation, causing him to laugh.

  “Do you enjoy the ice chips?” he asked her.

  “Yes!” she was forced to admit.

  “I think you should earn them,” he teased.

  “No!” she cried. She could feel her labia lips trembling, reaching and grasping for the ice of their own accord.

  “Bring your hand down between your legs,” he ordered.

  She hesitated only a second. Maybe it would not be so bad. She reached her hand down and felt around for the place he had discovered the night before.

  “There’s my love,” he encouraged, and she once again thrilled in the knowledge that his eyes were watching her from his perfect viewpoint. He took her hand with his and helped her. She shuddered at the utter delight in having him instruct her this way. Each time she followed his directions he would slip in another little chip of ice, so she had double the incentive to perform well. Her eyes, meanwhile, were grafted to the wall, taking in the erotic imagery while she listened attentively to his instructions through the pounding music, and massaged the magic little button for her and her husband’s pleasure. And all the while the voices continued their encouraging chants.

  The prince watched with fascination from his incredible vantage point, tormented by the sight of her hand caressing herself and her hips bouncing erotically, mere inches from his face. Every time she pleased him he slipped in another chip of ice, causing her hips to jump and dance even more delightfully. He knew it was impossible, but it seemed that her little lips would reach out for the ice when his hands approached them with it, sucking it up into themselves hungrily—only to have it dissipate all too quickly into mere wetness. He licked at the little lips when this happened, kissing away their disappointment. Meanwhile her hand continued diligently rubbing between her legs. She realized she was able to perform this service on herself even better than her husband had done and, what’s more, she loved having him watch her do it.

  But now the voices seemed to be moving the princess toward something new. As if in a trance she lifted her head and stared at the throbbing flesh that stood up fiercely between her husband’s legs. Instinctively she slipped her mouth over him and began moving her head up and down to the same rhythm that her hips moved back and forth to. Now she felt in sync with the thrilling music, but still the voices seemed to be calling out for her suck harder and deeper. Her husband moaned loudly, thinking it was all really too much, having her most private area wiggling in his face while she was stroking him with her mouth. Just who was supposed to be learning about pleasure here?

  But it was true—in the past two evenings he had felt more intense pleasure than he had ever felt before in all of his life. And all from trying to bring pleasure to his wife, who deserved it after giving him so much without ever asking for anything in return. But, oh, how delightfully it had all turned out! All the little recommendations that the wizardess had given him to awaken his wife’s senses had awakened his, as well. The images playing over the wall and the erotic music with the sensual chanting had delighted his senses as much as hers. He had learned to savor pleasure, whereas she had learned to find it.

  The prince perceived that his wife was reaching the proximity of her release and to spur her along he slipped another ice chip deep inside her, pushing it all the way in with his finger and then leaving his finger inside her to relish the silky wetness of her.

  Now the princess knew that she only had to give herself over to the passionate images and sounds and sensations to once again feel that wonderful vibration run through her. Her mind still hesitated, but she did not give in to it. Rather, she gave over her will to her senses. She sucked her husband harder and better than she ever had before, until she heard—or imagined that she heard—the voices applauding her efforts. Her hips moved in wild abandon as she sucked her husband with all her might and rubbed herself furiously. His hips were also moving as he stared helplessly at her shaking hips. With effort he reached for another ice chip. He felt drunk.

  Suddenly the princess was nearly toppled off the bed as her husband moved from beneath her to behind her in one quick maneuver. She stayed on her hands and knees and resumed caressing herself, realizing instantly that he was going to take her from behind.

  The prince deftly slipped an ice chip inside the princess and ground himself into her behind it, stuffing the ice deeper and deeper with each thrust. She cried out loudly as the ice again caught her in the middle of her release, extending and magnifying it for her and the prince both—for her release had set his off. And all at once the prince realized why Princess Toilla liked the ice so much!

  The wizardess had recommended that the prince continue these sensation awareness exercises with his wife each night for as long as it was needed, but long after Princess Toilla’s shoes ceased appearing mysteriously worn through in the mornings, the exercises continued. And for all I know, they practice them still.

  PRINCESS WEARIA

  P RINCESS W EARIA ROLLED OVER AND GROANED . I T WAS LATE IN THE DAY , she knew, but she didn’t feel like leaving the comfort of her bed. She made a silent wish that the wizardess would be kept longer with her other sisters so that she would have additional time to make herself and her house presentable, but even as she wished it, it registered somewhere in her consciousness that no matter how much time she had she would not likely trouble herself too much anyway.

  Why, oh, why did her father have to expose her to the pestering wizardess in the first place? Who cared if her shoes wore themselves out while she was sleeping? It wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford new shoes!

  She yawned petulantly, looking around her. Her husband was long gone from their bed, she wasn’t sure where, but that was not unusual; he always rose from their bed in the mornings. She, on the other hand, often slept late into the afternoons if left unhindered. But it seemed that too often there arose some irritating task of mundane proportions that she had to attend to. Why must she bother? Her lethargy quickly turned into resentment. However, in Princess Wearia’s case, resentment proved to be a useful emotion that actually acted as a cathartic, giving her the power to haul herself out of her bed at last.

  She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, wondering over the image she saw there. She reluctantly acknowledged the little evidences of neglect and excess, and made herself a mental promise that she would attend to those matters sometime near in the future. Som
ewhere in the far back reaches of her mind, buried beneath many such promises, rested the realization that these daily pledges were nothing but fluff, created for the sole purpose of making the moment more tolerable, but as always, at the forefront of her mind she felt satisfied that this time she would achieve success where before she had failed.

  The princess wandered over to her wardrobe and browsed absently through the clothes, somewhat discouraged by the challenge of transforming herself into something that was fit to be seen by a wizardess. There were a few items that brought out the best in her, but upon closer inspection she realized that they were in dire need of ironing. This was a sufficient obstacle to eliminate them from her options. Next she spied a large, flowing dress that, although not very impressive, would most certainly fit and did not require any preparations. She quickly plucked it from the wardrobe, quieting her outraged subconscious by arguing the import of this day. Why should she dress for some aged wizardess? The wizardess would likely be removed from their kingdom by the end of the week anyway, for the princess was certain the woman would fail. She was the only one of her sisters who had not acknowledged any truth in the wizardess’s assessment that the princesses were “discontented” in their married life. She had, in fact, been outraged that the wizardess would dare to even suggest such a thing.

  The princess thought about her husband as she dressed. He was so handsome and kind, never pressuring her about “her ways” as her father used to do while she was growing up. Her husband seemed content to let her live her life as she wished, without expecting her to constantly put forth effort to do more. She could not imagine herself being happier. Oh, to be sure, they were not honeymooners anymore, but that was to be expected. Married couples did not share intimacies all the time. She tried to think of the last intimacy they had shared, and her mind couldn’t locate the memory of so much as a kiss. Oh, well, her husband was busy building their legacy, and once this was accomplished they would, quite possibly, take a second honeymoon.