“Nonsense,” he told her. “You make that choice in an attempt to add undue importance to your job. Look at tonight. You would have stayed busy until late in the night if the wizardess hadn’t ordered you to do otherwise. And the sky is not falling because you stopped.”
“What if one of the children wakes?” she pointed out. “Or becomes ill?”
“When is the last time that happened?” With her silence he continued, “I just think that if you come to terms with your life, or change it—it doesn’t make any difference to me—you will not have to defend it so fiercely by talking about it all the time and criticizing everything everyone else does.”
“I had not realized that that was what I was doing!” she said huffily, and even more tears gushed forward. She did not like to hear these things but could not find the explanation to deny them, either.
“I think the first thing you should do is set a time each day when you stop working,” he suggested, feeling better now that he had at last gotten his point across. “After that, just walk away…like I do.”
“I can’t just walk away,” she insisted.
“Neither of us can, literally, walk away,” he agreed. “But mentally you can tell yourself that the time of day has come when you will stop your workday. If something happens with the children to force you back into it we will handle it together, but otherwise, you will be on your own time.”
She wanted to find something wrong with his suggestion and reasoning, but could not. He made it all seem so simple. Why was she still so resentful? Was she unhappy? Should she find something else to do with her days? Her husband’s warm strong hands rubbing her feet were having a soothing influence on her. Still, she was feeling a bit restless, unused to retiring so early in the evening.
The prince had won the battle and now he wanted to take on more. He liked the way it felt to challenge his wife. Perhaps he had been wrong to allow her to command all aspects of their relationship. He did not want to be an ogre husband, but he realized he was no longer willing to just follow her knowingly in the wrong direction, either. Somewhere in between there had to be a balance and he was determined to find it. Princess Doitalla was clearly too immersed in her own personal issues to properly take the lead and so he would have to take the reins from her.
First on his agenda was the issue of their celibate marital bed.
“If you want something really important to do,” he said, intentionally goading her, “I have something right here you can tend to.” As he said this he grasped her legs with his strong hands and pulled her toward him.
She was outraged. “That is not funny!”
“Indeed it is not,” he agreed, quickly maneuvering their bodies so that she was flat on her back and he on top. It was not easy to do with her struggling under him but he managed it, and for good measure he raised her arms above her head and held them there in a firm grip.
“How dare you,” she hissed, but as he inspected her more closely he noticed her breathing was more rapid and he could see she was aroused.
“As your husband I dare,” he answered. “Shall I take my demands elsewhere?” He was purposely antagonizing her, perhaps because of the frustrating months without sexual contact, but he was seeking any response he could evoke as long as it came out of passion. His wife struggled against him as he held her down.
“Tell me, princess,” he murmured, kissing her with deceptive gentleness even as his hands held her arms in a viselike grip. “Shall I take my demands elsewhere?”
“Oh, you animal,” she cried, enraged by his threat. But he did not back down. How could he, once he had begun?
“I did not marry to become celibate,” he insisted. “What shall I do then, princess?”
“I don’t care what you do!”
“Be careful,” he told her. His voice, although still low and gentle, had a hard edge to it. “Or perhaps I should not pay attention to your words. It seems you don’t really know what you feel.” During this condescending speech he pulled her arms together and held them with one hand while his other hand moved over her body, leisurely stroking her breasts and stomach, and then moving lower.
The princess was coming alive with a variety of sensations in one tumultuous jumble of emotions, from outrage to exhilaration, and was assailed with strong desires to both fight and surrender. She at once loved and hated her husband’s behavior and it occurred to her that perhaps he had a point in accusing her of not knowing her own mind.
The prince’s hand had reached down below her nightgown and, slipping underneath, began its ascent up her thigh. She gasped as his fingers pried gently between her legs, stroking her moist opening a moment before pressing further into her hole. His lips captured hers in a triumphant kiss.
“Apparently, you are not as unmoved as you pretend,” he laughed in between kisses. “So what is it to be, wife? Will you perform your duties and pleasure us both or will you push me into the arms of another?” He was determined that she would surrender to him this night.
Princess Doitalla could not answer his question without painting herself in a corner. If she answered that she wanted him, which her body seemed to do whether her mind did or not, she felt she would be humiliated somehow. Yet how could she justify turning him away when she wanted him as much as he wanted her? She remained silent, biting her lip.
“You know,” he whispered at last. “You really are a spiteful bitch.” He said this with remarkable gentleness, stroking her lips lightly while murmuring the harsh words. His fingers still slid in and out the length of her silky wetness. Tears sprang to her eyes and he saw them as he watched her. Still, he continued on. “I think this is really about power with you,” he guessed. “Instead of managing your own life you use your frustration to torment and lord it over others.”
“That’s a lie!”
“Is it?” He was at his most ruthless, because he had suddenly realized how much he needed her to tell him, right now, how she felt about him. That he was making it extremely hard for her to do so did not seem to occur to him. He simply continued to goad her. “Whether I talk about it or not, I actually do work damn hard to protect and provide for you and the children. And whether I mention it or not, I don’t get appreciation, affection or even honorable mention for my efforts. You seem to think your activities, thoughts, desires and feelings are the only ones that matter. Well, I’m tired of begging for your forgiveness and affection, Princess Doitalla. Either you want me or you don’t. Which is it?”
“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” she cried, angry with her body for responding to his touch and frustrated, too, by her inability to give in to him.
“Oh, but you can,” he argued, kissing her again. And with his fingers he continued to stroke her! “Which is it, Doitalla?” he asked again, mockingly.
She did want him, more than ever. If only he would be his nice, usual self. Suddenly it occurred to her that it was always him that compromised. He backed down and gave in continually for her. Why was it so hard for her to do it for him? Was she really just a spiteful bitch, like he said? “You know I want to be with you,” she conceded finally.
“Not good enough princess.” He kissed her lips again and she felt his warm breath on them as he raised his lips mere centimeters from hers to continue. She was beginning to like the way it felt to have his hand firmly gripping her arms over her head. And she could also get used to his fingers gently stroking between her legs. “I want to hear you tell me that you are willing to perform your wifely duties.”
“You know that I am willing,” she whispered.
“Try again,” he insisted, kissing her neck, shoulders, breasts.
“I am willing,” she said.
“I’m not convinced.”
“Please,” she whispered.
“Slightly better. Maybe you can show me what you have so much trouble telling me,” he said, releasing her and raising his body up suddenly so his hardness was poised over her lips. “Are you willing to show me?”
“Mmm…yes, that’s much better,” he murmured. She blushed with a mixture of mortification and excitement, knowing he was saying these things to ensure her total submission, and realizing suddenly that she wanted that submission as much as he did. In response to his words she sucked harder and with more vigor, knowing she had never pleasured him so well, and finding a wonderful new stimulation in that knowledge. Her whole body trembled with expectation and desire. She tried her best to communicate her enthusiasm by caressing him most lovingly with her mouth, licking up and down the length of him as he moved in and out of her. A moan escaped her as she welcomed all of him that she could hold in her mouth, and she relished the amazing rigidity of him as he attempted to push himself in deeper. His sighs of satisfaction sent thrills right through her.
“This is what I married you for,” he told her in a husky voice. “Not to run my life.”
Her face burned and she felt an automatic rush of anger from his words, even as yet another alarming thrill surged through her, causing her sex to swell and ache. A tumult of emotions raged within her, bringing more tears to her eyes. She looked up to see that he was watching her eyes as he spoke, and when her eyes met his, he seemed to be silently challenging her. She stared up at him, unable to look away. She felt a tear slowly slip its way down her cheek. Her face burned hotter, but she continued to please him with her mouth, even more vigorously now in fact, for there was an oddly liberating element in her absolute capitulation. She stared up willingly into his eyes, letting the tears flow, as she bobbed her head even faster, determined to give him more pleasure from this experience than he had ever received before.
The prince was amazed by the sight of his wife. He had never felt so aroused by her, nor had he felt so much love. Seeing her submit in this way was something he had never expected. He had always felt that he would draw her closer to him by accommodating her in her every wish, but he now realized that there had to be a balance. While he would always elect to please her, he would no longer feign agreement simply to avoid displeasing her. She was not a frightening creature to be condescended to but an intelligent being who was capable of dealing with the truth. He fought dragons all day long; why should the sound of a female voice, raised and upset, intimidate? He knew now that she could and would accept the truth from him, just as he would do for her. He would not always be right, perhaps, and it certainly would never be easy, but he felt a new intimacy emerging in the knowledge that she really would accept him, even if she did not accept all that he said.
This new awareness caused the prince’s confidence and trust in his wife to soar.
The prince felt a surprising surge of tenderness for his wife and he pulled away so he could take her face in his hands and kiss her ravaged lips. She clung to him, kissing him back wholeheartedly. With her response he suddenly became even more urgent, bombarding her with kisses all over her face and neck, tasting the tears on her cheeks.
“You are mine,” he told her, again and again, as he opened her legs. She trembled in anticipation, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He took her tenderly, reveling in each and every stroke. Her body was warm and soft and willing. She was not performing a task now; she was loving her husband with her whole being. They whispered endearments to each other in between solemn kisses.
“I love you,” she murmured, over and over again.
“I love you, too. And I need you,” he admitted.
They were words of surrender, sweet to hear. Both delighted in the intense exhilaration they felt from the heady combination of full submission amid absolute victory.
Their intimacy gave way to a new abandon. Princess Doitalla responded to her husband without reservation, undulating wildly in his embrace. And as for the prince, he withheld only his climax, and that for the sole purpose of satisfying her. He kept his strokes slow and easy, kissing her and coaxing her with words of love and adoration. He remembered how she had responded when he had held her hands firmly over her head earlier and he did it again now, pulling her arms high above her head and holding them in a viselike grip. She seemed to like this, and the rough play appealed to him, as well, so he bent his head down to suckle vigorously on her breasts, plucking aggressively on the tips with his mouth. She cried out and thrust her hips against him faster and harder. This made him suckle her all the harder, although he was careful not to actually hurt her.
Princess Doitalla rubbed her hips fiercely against her husband in order to further stimulate herself. Her behavior seemed foreign to her and yet, she knew she had never been more true to herself. She loved what her husband was doing and cared nothing for the control she had lost. Perhaps she would think about that tomorrow, but for now she virtually swooned under the power of her husband’s strength as he held her down and ravished her. Before long it became more than she could bear and she bit into his shoulder to avoid screaming. Her whole body shuddered in a release that was more intense than any other she had experienced.
With a low chuckle the prince pulled his wife’s arms together so he could bind them with one of his hands. He had fully subdued her but he was still in the mood to dominate. With his other hand he caressed her face. Her head was turned to the side and she was staring, as if spellbound, at the wall. He was still moving slowly in and out of her. He stroked her hair ever so gently at first, while kissing the side of her face, but ere long he pulled on it firmly, forcing her head to turn and face him. This brought her out of her trance and she opened her mouth to receive his kiss.
Princess Doitalla luxuriated in the exquisite feel of being pinned down beneath her husband. She was suddenly and remarkably aroused all over again. His forcefulness, so all at once antagonizing and enticing, had her body yearning and pining for more. Although she would never admit it, she thrilled to the strength of form and character he established with his gentle domination of her. Had he loved her less, perhaps it would not have been so, but in the circumstance of his tender purpose to forge a stronger intimacy she found it irresistible. She had never felt so safe and cherished. And she had never before felt so aroused. It seemed her husband had kindled a flame within in her that was burning out of control. She once again allowed the flame to build up inside her, encouraging it even further by rubbing her hips just so against her husband.
The prince restrained the princess even more securely in response to her renewed arousal, so that her arms were stretched high over her head and her face and breasts were his to ravage. She clung to him with her legs as she ground her hips against him. Her breath came quickly in little gasps and cries as she was carried away by the rapturous emotions and sensations that overwhelmed her. Her mind whirled with a plethora of stimuli that left her unable to focus. She was first and foremost aware of her husband’s superior physical strength as he pinned her ruthlessly to the bed. His slow strokes spoke of control; control that she could tell—from the sweat that trickled along his skin—took real effort and love. She was aware that he chose to first please her and this knowledge sent her senses reeling. Soon another rush of pleasure shivered through her.
Upon feeling her shudder the prince finally let loose. He suddenly drove into her with a force that made her cry out. Her cries caused him to grip her all the tighter. She clung to him, bearing up under his strength as best she could, kissing his face and encouraging him with all the endearments that were in her heart. Suddenly he stiffened and threw himself all the way into her with a loud yell. And her body yearned for him still!
The prince stayed atop the princess for several moments, shifting his weight so as not to crush her. At length he perceived that she was crying. He looked down at her with concern.
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sp; “Did I hurt you?” he whispered, kissing the tears on her cheeks.
She remained silent, trembling violently beneath him. He became alarmed.
“Princess,” he said more urgently. “Did I hurt you? Tell me.”
She still couldn’t speak but she shook her head to quiet his alarm. She could not say why she trembled and cried. How could she explain that she was filled with too many emotions to identify, much less articulate to him? Who was she? What did she want? Was she strong or weak? What did she desire from her husband? These were questions that she could not begin to answer. All she really knew for the moment was that she felt safe in her husband’s arms. And he did not ask her any more questions that night.
The next morning the princess awoke from a deep slumber, feeling inordinately content. The loss of time from her schedule on the previous day should have set her behind but she felt somehow quite the opposite. Many of the daily duties that previously tormented her now seemed rather empty. Things that usually worried her appeared trivial. Aggravations failed to bother. What is happening to me? she wondered.
She wished she could talk to her husband about it. Perhaps she would later that night. He was, no doubt, already out slaying dragons again.
As for her, what would she do today? She looked down at her shoes and noted with surprise that they were in nearly new condition. She laughed in surprise. Perhaps she would have to wear them out in the ordinary way from now on.
And that is precisely, from that day forward, what she began to do.
PRINCESS DREADIA
P RINCESS D READIA SMILED TIMIDLY AT HER HUSBAND FROM ACROSS THEIR luncheon table. She had served him a midday meal that would delight even the finickiest of palates and satisfy the heartiest of appetites in her attempt to please him, hoping that would make up for any deficiencies she might have as a wife. She loved him dearly and wanted so much to be a worthy mate. Why did she suffer so? Life had finally given her what she wanted. Why couldn’t she forget the past and enjoy the present? What would her husband think of her if he knew about the things that really went through her mind? What would he think of her if he knew how she really felt?
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