Nancy Madore - The Twelve Dancing Princesses

The prince leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His wife’s body had never felt so deliciously soft and wet, but then, she had never wanted him this much before. Always something had held her at bay but tonight she was his completely. He relished in the feel of her and wanted to enjoy it for as long as she remained so receptive to him. He stroked her with care, wanting her to find satisfaction as badly as he wanted his own.

The princess was shocked to know that having her husband inside her could feel so utterly amazing. She thought she had found some pleasure with him before but now she realized that she had never come close to enjoying the full measure of that pleasure. In the position she was currently in, her legs still covered most of her view of the prince, and this small measure of concealment sufficiently shielded her from her usual timidity and self-consciousness. She clung to her legs and shut her eyes tight as she moaned and writhed with abandon. Her moans grew louder and she uttered little words in between, such as“yes,” and “please,” and “I love you”; not extraordinarily bold words,but little admissions, nevertheless, of her utter surrender and loss of control. She had always carefully held all such utterances back, so hearing them now had the effect of stoking the fire that already burned so hot in the prince. He bit his lip to maintain control as he stroked and caressed her.

At last the princess felt an amazing surge of agonizing ripples of pleasure rush through her. In an involuntary motion her arms collapsed to her sides and her legs fell open. There, between her spread legs was her husband’s face, staring down at her as she cried out, completely overwhelmed by the intense sensations. Seeing her face and knowing her pleasure was the prince’s undoing. He grasped one leg in each of his hands and spread them wider apart as he thrust himself into her one last time. He let out a loud yell. She stared at him wide-eyed, realizing suddenly that they had never made love with the candles lit before this.

Princess Conscia was astounded that she did not feel the embarrassment she had imagined she would under such circumstances. What she wanted was to hold her husband in her arms. He seemed to read her mind, for he carefully put her legs down and embraced her. They clung to each other for a long moment. He realized he had not even kissed her yet, and he did so now. They kissed with all the passion of forlorn lovers. Then the prince looked into her face with a grin.

“Aren’t you even interested in seeing the painting?” he asked incredulously. He thought that would have been her first consideration the moment he set down the paintbrush.

Princess Conscia gasped. “I had forgotten all about it!” she ex claimed, equally surprised by herself. They both laughed as they gotup to look at the painting. When she saw it she let out a little cry.

The prince watched her carefully. He could not tell if her expression was one of horror or delight. “I should warn you that one harsh word could cause me to give up painting for good,” he told her.

She laughed halfheartedly, and reached out her arm to touch him. She could not take her eyes off the painting. Was that how she looked? She could not believe it. The woman in the painting exuded sensual vulnerability. She held her legs lifted high as she bared herself for the painter. Her eyes were dazed, her lips were parted and her expression was one of utter abandon. Her fingers rested shameless in the curly nest of hair between her legs. A small pearl of liquid picked up the light as it squeezed its way through her swollen flesh. It was terribly revealing, and incredibly lifelike. It took her breath away to see it.

“Is that how you see me?” she said at last.

“It is,” he said. He tried to lighten the moment by adding, “On the rare occasions I get to see you, that is.”

“I never thought of myself in that…way.” She still couldn’t draw her eyes away from the portrait.

The prince drew Princess Conscia to him and kissed her. He said nothing, simply allowing her to stare in amazement at the painting. He still wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or disappointed by it. When she finally turned to face him there were tears in her eyes.

“I love it,” she told him. And he pulled her down with him onto the bed and they slept very well indeed that night.

The next morning, Princess Conscia was first to wake. She smiled when she looked at her sleeping husband. Slowly, the memory came back of their lovemaking the night before and then she recalled the portrait. She turned toward the wall and there it was. In the daylight it seemed even more graphic and a bit unseemly, but even so, the princess felt a little twinge of pride and desire curling up within her at the sight of it. Was she really that woman?

She felt her husband move and she turned to him. He was watching her. She was still unclothed and she blushed.

“It’s all right,” he told her. “You will get used to it.”

“I still can’t believe it’s me,” she admitted.

“It’s only one part of you,” he told her. He rose up and she noticed he was aroused.

“Perhaps…” she faltered, and bit her lip.

“Perhaps…?” he prompted.

“Perhaps…we should have pancakes for breakfast,” she finished with a little smile. She glanced at the painting one last time before dressing. She felt sure that if she truly was the woman in the painting she would have known how to say what she wanted to say. But even if she had known what to say, she was not entirely certain that she was ready for that kind of intimacy in the bright light of day.

Throughout the day, Princess Conscia repeatedly found reasons to return to their bedroom and look at the painting. Each time she did this she felt terribly excited about the evening to come. In what position would her husband paint her this night? She imagined several scenarios and each left her breathless.

At long last the evening came and her husband with it. She rushed toward him as he entered their castle, a little blush coloring her cheeks. He was delighted by the change in her.

At dinner the princess barely touched her food and once again the prince wondered at her behavior. It was almost as if she were anticipating the events to come. He had barely lifted the last bite of his food to his lips when she scooped up his plate and whisked it offto the kitchen. She was out of breath when she returned only a moment later.

“All cleared away,” she announced. Her voice had a slightly shrill edge to it.

“No dessert?” he teased.

She didn’t smile. “I, uh…thought with the heavy dinner…” her voice trailed off.

“Never mind,” he said. “I am well-satisfied.”

He was astounded by the wizardess’s astuteness. She had been perfectly right when she told him that she had missed nothing. All it had taken was a little push and his wife was quickly becoming the sensual creature he had always known she could be. He took her hand and led her wordlessly up the stairs to their bedroom, where she rushed into the bathroom to disrobe while he arranged the bed and candles, and set up a new piece of parchment. Daylight was just beginning to dim, and dusk was following closely behind her. There was a strange excitement in their bedroom, giving the air an electrical charge very much like it did before a storm.

Princess Conscia took deep breaths in an effort to remain calm. Even the preparations for the event were bringing about the most delightful sensations of excitement. Earlier that day she had trimmed the hair on her body and now she patted her flesh with scented powder. When the princess had arranged herself to her satisfaction she joined her husband in the bedroom. The lighting was spectacular and her eyes shone with excitement. She noticed that he had moved the bed to accommodate a new panel of blank parchment on a different wall. She glanced again at the previous evening’s painting and bit her lip.