The Twelve Dancing Princesses

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.

“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!

The prince half thought he must be in a dream. His wife’s response was so unrestrained and enthusiastic he hardly recognized her. That she wanted to please him he could clearly see, but his heart leapt at the fervor of her desire to please, and the pleasure she was deriving from it. All of this he perceived from her behavior; although he noted it unconsciously, for it was beyond his capabilities of self-restraint to resist such wanton surrender. His whole body quaked from the power of his release as he at last gave in to all of the pent up desire and stimulation. He let out a loud cry of satisfaction that caused the princess to tremble. He clung to her hips after the initial rush of ecstasy, momentarily dizzy from the intensity of it.

At last they collapsed together, entwined as closely together as they could get. She clung to him and he clung to her. They remained quiet, for words were not necessary. Princess Conscia wondered that she felt not the slightest uneasiness or embarrassment over her behavior. Quite the contrary in fact; she felt positively joyful and self-possessed. It seemed to her that she had learned something new about life and what she wanted from it. No more would she look backward for simpler pleasures. She had grown up.

The paintings continued throughout the years, although the need for them disappeared after that very first night. The exceptional artwork covers their bedroom walls completely, with erotic images of the princess in every imaginable position. Often the princess will find herself alone in that room, staring at the walls in amazement. The images never fail to arouse her. And needless to say, the princess no longer dreams of escaping her bedroom to rush away to her father’s castle and dance holes in her shoes with her sisters.

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