Soon the prince was once again stroking his wife in just the way she liked best and, low and behold, the chastity belt slowly opened.
“Shall we attempt it together this time?” he asked her.
“Mmm.”
He stopped stroking her and moved between her legs. “Let’s try it this way,” he said as he slid himself into her slick opening. Once he was settled nicely in her warm, wet body he slipped his hand between their bodies and resumed his stroking, carefully, with just the same tension and rhythm he had used before. It was only mildly awkward for him to do this; just enough, in fact, to keep his concentration on what he was doing to her instead of letting his body overrule his mind. At the same time he moved within her very slowly, so that he could enjoy it, too—but not too much. Soon her hips were gyrating wildly beneath his. Watching her beautifully flushed face thoughtfully, he perceived that this position would, indeed, allow them both to find fulfillment, if not simultaneously, then close to it. But now that the prince had learned to reign in his own pleasure in order to enhance Princess Attentia’s, he wanted to draw the experience out even further.
He abruptly stopped his caresses and pulled himself out of his wife’s body, smiling tenderly at her look of disappointment. “I can’t be certain if that was working well or not,” he teased. “Let’s try something else…turn around.”
The princess moved herself somewhat awkwardly onto her knees, but her arousal soon overcame her inhibitions. Her husband helped to arrange her body in the way he thought it might work best. Then he slid himself back into her body from behind, holding very still for a moment, and reminding himself that these little exercises in self-control would prolong the pleasure and intensify his and her satisfaction. He reached his hand around her hips to the place she liked best to be stroked and discovered that he could pleasure her from this position, too. As could she; for her fingers were already there!
Before long Princess Attentia was once again reaching the precipice of her desire. The prince watched in fascination as her plump 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 feeling of her husband moving slowly in and out of her from behind. She leaned comfortably on one forearm while she used her other hand to pleasure herself. This position raised her bottom up higher than her head, considerably enhancing the feeling of having her husband inside her. And as for her husband, he was trying to find ways to 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. She immediately 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 trembling, too. His body felt weak from the incredible pleasure of his release 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
P RINCESS C ONSCIA 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 e
ven 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 to remind 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 not want to appear frigid or distraught, but rather, preferred to draw him back to reality with dignity and common sense. “The wizardess has already explained that our shoes are being worn out by our thoughts, not our feet.”
“Yes, but have you never considered what those thoughts might be?” he asked her.
“Why, of course,” she replied. “The wizardess has as much as said that it is homesickness for my sisters and my father’s castle. We had such wonderful times there. I do miss it.”
“I don’t think that is all there is to it,” the prince argued. “You didn’t forget that the wizardess also mentioned ‘discontent’ in your marriages.”
She stared at the prince, shocked by his bluntness. “It does not seem so outrageous that our new lives should be a bit difficult to adjust to after such an enchanted childhood,” she countered.
“Or perhaps it is something else,” he said, with meaning and emphasis.
So here he was, referring to “it” yet again! She ground her teeth and asked, “What else could it be?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” he lied. “But I am very interested to hear what the wizardess has to say about it.”
She forced another stiff smile. “More coffee?”
Princess Conscia had been looking forward to the wizardess’s visit, but now she was suddenly feeling nervous. Would the wizardess think her a failure as a wife? Or worse, would she be expected to humiliate herself even further to her husband? Surely he would not be so debased as to bring “it” up while the wizardess was here!
She struggled for the proper words to caution her husband while she poured his coffee. “I hope you won’t impose your own ideas about this on the wizardess,” she began. “I think it would be best to listen to what advice she has to give.” A little blush crept up her cheeks as she said this.
“What ideas are you speaking of that have you blushing so, my darling?” he asked her with a teasing smile.
“I don’t have anything in mind,” she lied, wishing she had held her tongue. There was no stopping him anyway, so why had she bothered to ask?
He took her warm, flushed face in his hands and held it until her eyes met his. “I, too, wait anxiously for the wizardess’s advice,” he admitted in a low voice. They were both silent a moment, until the front bell rang out shrilly, causing them both to jump.
The prince went to the door to admit the wizardess while Princess Conscia regained her composure. A moment later the wizardess entered their kitchen, observing the princess carefully.
“Do I smell coffee?” she asked casually, but she noticed everything as she spoke, from the blush on Princess Conscia’s face to the slightly gloomy yet determined expression of her husband.
“I hope I did not interrupt anything,” she said with a sly smile.
The prince and princess looked at the wizardess; he with surprise and her with horrified embarrassment.
“Oh, heavens, no,” Princess Conscia insisted quickly. “We were simply finishing up our morning coffee.”
“Actually,” her husband divulged, “we were trying to guess what you had concluded about the shoes.”
“Indeed,” laughed the wizardess. “That is good.”
“Really?” asked Princess Conscia. She had feared her husband’s bluntness might have offended the wizardess. She poured them all a cup of coffee and sat down, feeling a bit more relaxed. She did not, however, want the wizardess to inquire further about where their conjectures had led, so she attempted to divert this by saying, “Have you questions you wish to ask about my…um, shoe problem?”
“My observations thus far have, in fact, been sufficient for me to identify the problem,” replied the wizardess.
“But, you have only just arrived,” the prince objected. “Perhaps you have missed something important.”
“Oh, I have missed nothing,” the wizardess told him with a smile. “Everything you will need is right here.” She shuffled through the contents of her bag and finally pulled from it a long, brown cylinder. “There it is,” she said, handing the cylinder to the prince. “I think its best if you delay the treatment—or even discussing it—until late in the day, when you are both ready to retire. Please follow the instructions to the letter,” she admonished him firmly, “and its magic will not fail.” She swallowed the last of her coffee and stood up.
“But…” objected the princess.
“You may see me out, Princess Conscia,” interrupted the wizardess.
With an anxious glance at the mysterious object in her husband’s hand, the princess reluctantly walked out with the wizardess.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured.
“You will in time, my dear,” the wizardess assured her. But the princess was not reassured.
The prince, meanwhile, had opened the tube and removed from it a roll of white parchment and a paintbrush. The parchment was made of a mysterious substance that shimmered as it caught the light. Several sheets were stacked together on a roll. As he unraveled the parchment he noticed that there were instructions on the back of each sheet, and he began to read. A low whistle escaped his lips.
“How strange,” Princess Conscia remarked, returning to the kitchen.
Her husband made no comment as he quickly put the parchment back on the roll and slipped it and the paintbrush back into the tube.
“May I see that?” she asked him.
“No,” he replied.
“What?” she cried in shock. “But I wish to see it.”
“I think not,” he replied.
“Do the instructions say that I can not see it?” she asked.
“No,” he answered.
“Then for heaven’s sake,” she said, “allow me to see it at once!”
“I will show it to you when the time comes,” he replied with a note of finality that made it clear he was not going to give in.
“Do you mean later this evening?” she asked.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“When we are �
��ready to retire,’” she quoted from the wizardess.
“Exactly,” he confirmed.
“Not before?” she pressed.
“Not a moment before.”
What a long day that was for Princess Conscia! Whatever was in the strange, brown cylinder must not be to her liking, she mused, for her husband to have refused to allow her to even look at it. And yet how objectionable could it be, when it was recommended by such a dignified figure as the wizardess? It was impossible to imagine that Harmonia Brist, who commanded so much respect, would suggest something inappropriate.
And yet, why was her husband keeping it from her? He would not do so unless he had reason. The princess quickly deduced that the cylinder must contain something to do with “it”. That was the only plausible excuse she could come up with that would explain her husband’s behavior. He knew that would upset her. But why would the wizardess recommend anything to do with that? And what could it have to do with her shoes?
She now regretted her promise to her father, the king, that she would do exactly as the wizardess instructed. But having given her word, she supposed all she could do now was to submit to whatever it was until the week was over. She was not pleased by it, even though she still didn’t know exactly what it was. But she was certain that it must have something to do with their activities in the bedroom. She had glimpsed the paintbrush and the white roll of parchment. Obviously the paintbrush was for painting on the white paper. No doubt it was her who was to be painted. This would not be something unappealing to her, unless…so that was it! She was to sit nude for her husband to paint. The more she thought about it the more convinced she became that this was the case.
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