The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Nancy Madore

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