Nancy Madore - The Twelve Dancing Princesses

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Twelve princesses, each possessing riches, grace, power and dignity. Yet despite the sisters' charmed lives—and despite the handsome men who desire them—they are woefully unfulfilled, frustrated and aching for something more.As a powerful wizardess helps to solve the riddle of their discontent, each princess discovers creative—and naughty—ways to satisfy her passionate cravings and desperate needs.

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“Ah,” said her husband, “here is my subject at last!”

She walked over to the bed. “How shall I…?”

He handed her the instructions for the night’s painting and watched her while she read them. Her face was pink when she handed them back to him, but she approached the bed bravely and removed the silken robe she had been wearing. His body hardened at the sight of her.

Princess Conscia’s heart pounded as she approached the bed. She had never known that women assumed such positions to be admired in. Of course she had heard mention of such decadence in hushed tones of mockery and had even succumbed to that position once or twice in the dark, when her husband had been quite insistent. But this was different. It was hard to control her breathing, but somehow she managed to gracefully kneel in the center of the bed with her legs spread far apart. She arranged the pillows just so and then crossed her forearms just below them. Then she lowered her head onto the pillows. She felt her back arch as her head touched the pillows, causing her hips to spread wider. She gasped at the feelings this position evoked.

At the sight of her the prince could have wept. He did not want to paint. He wanted to make love to her. And yet, he told himself, by painting her like this he would be able to enjoy the image many times over. With that he picked up his brush and repositioned a candle. A little groan escaped his lips as he began his task.

The princess heard his groan and knew well how he felt. The intimacy of it all was overwhelming. And yet, even as it overwhelmed her it also seemed to quell her inhibitions. She basked in the warmth of the candles as their gentle heat penetrated her flesh and radiated inward, imbuing her with a sweet anticipation for the moment when her husband would appease her. She knew he would take her exactly as she lay, just like he had done the night before.

The thought of it made her breath catch in her throat. The illumination upon her sex had the effect of accentuating this part of her life with her husband, underscoring the beauty and necessity of this aspect of her being. For this moment, at least, she was created for this, and she could not call to mind a single reason to shy away or abstain from accepting the pleasure that their bodies offered them. She knew that he, too, eagerly anticipated that moment when he would have her.

The prince marveled at the mastery of the enchanted paintbrush as he adeptly reproduced the extraordinary image before him. There was almost a supernatural quality to his wife’s appearance as she posed for him, which was awe-inspiring as well as exciting. He felt new and intense emotions overwhelming him before he could even identify them. He was completely disarmed by the sight of her, and struggled to concentrate on the task ahead of him.

The overall effect of this lingering delay in consummating their desire was an increased awareness and intimacy that would not only enhance their pleasure, but also draw them closer in other aspects of their life together.

Princess Conscia’s wetness was causing her body to open further to her husband’s gaze. Her hips seemed to reach out toward him, further extending the arch of her back. Every now and then an impatient sigh escaped her lips, and in her expression was a look of wanton abandon. The prince duly noted each of these little modifications to her appearance as he attempted to capture every detail on the parchment. He, too, sighed, impatiently, aching for the feel of her in spite of his absorption in completing the painting.

At long last the prince applied his final stroke, and he noted with delight that, with the help of the brush, he had captured his wife’s image so perfectly that the parchment appeared more like a mirror’s reflection than a mere likeness.

The prince set down the enchanted brush and approached his wife. Very slowly, he raised his hand and stroked one finger gently along Princess Conscia’s open slit, feeling her wetness. She gasped and moaned, thrusting her hips toward him so that she was pressed more forcefully against his hand. He reached down farther beneath her and found the sensitive part of her that he wanted to caress. Meanwhile, he resumed rubbing up and down the length of her open slit with his tongue.

Princess Conscia cried out with bliss. The pleasure was so intense that nothing else could penetrate her consciousness. She focused on her husband’s tongue and what it was doing to her with every bit of her awareness. Her hips pumped up and down as she rocked herself absently against her husband’s hand and lips and tongue. She was losing herself fully as she sought after the exquisite pleasure that she now realized she could get from him.

The prince did not want to disrupt the princess’s pleasure, but he felt he must be inside her or die. Her newfound excitement increased his own arousal tenfold, and so he, too, was finding something new and amazing in their intimacy that he had not felt before. He quickly and efficiently mounted his wife from behind. Her body seemed to draw him in and clutch at him, causing him to moan loudly. He forced himself to go slowly as he reached around her hips and resumed his caressing of her. He realized how much harder it was for her to become satisfied than he, and so he used self-restraint and diligence to support her. It was, after all, just as much to his benefit as to hers to do so. He had been astounded to find how much more intense his own satisfaction became when he put it off time and again. He was certain that this was no coincidence; he knew his increased pleasure was a direct result of his consideration for his wife. He wondered that he could have remained ignorant of the connection between the two for so long.

He was, in fact, becoming more capable in holding off his own pleasure in order to satisfy his wife. He could feel his command over his body strengthening. He stroked and caressed his wife leisurely, enjoying every exquisite sensation without concern for time. When the pleasure came close to being too much to bear, he slowed even more in his movements to hold himself at bay. With his new knowledge of his wife, it would be unimaginable for him to allow any weakness on his part to thwart her. He was determined that she be satisfied.

As he watched his wife’s hips wriggling around his hardened flesh and listened to her cries, the prince found it harder and harder to withstand the temptation to let the pleasure overtake him. There were a few times when he had to turn away from the luscious sight of her, and close his ears to her enticing cries. Pleasing her brought the most intense sensations he had ever known. It seemed to soothe all of his broken places and give him strength.

Princess Conscia rocked her hips instinctively. The pleasure was incredible. Her husband’s slow, measured movements were exactly what she needed to remain focused and keep her rhythm. They moved together in perfect harmony until suddenly the princess stiffened and shuddered, crying out convulsively. She closed her eyes as the waves of pleasure rushed over her.

The prince took one small moment to languish in the sweet satisfaction of satisfying his wife and the exquisite anticipation of fulfillment to come. He moved his hands over his wife’s backside, delighting in the soft feel of her and then, settling his fingers halfway between her hips and waist, he grasped her securely and thrust himself into her violently.

Princess Conscia was suddenly filled with a new and strange exhilaration that was at once thrilling and poignant. She had always wanted to please her husband of course, but never so much as she did while under the effects of this mysterious afterglow. Throwing the very last of her inhibitions to the winds, she opened her legs even wider and arched her back to thrust her hips up as high as possible, opening herself to her husband even more absolutely and completely, and willing his pleasure to be as wonderful as hers had been. Noting his groans of delight when she moved, she accelerated the rocking of her hips in the manner she thought he liked best. How delightful it was to be able to excite and please the one you loved best!

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