The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Nancy Madore
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When she joined her husband in their bedroom that evening, she was groomed and dressed for his pleasure. That it titillated and excited her beyond her wildest imaginings to present herself to him this way, she refused to feel penitent for. Taking pleasure in giving surely did not make the giving less meaningful. In fact, she suspected her husband would also find joy in knowing that she, too, was getting pleasure; for hadn’t he been struggling to get her to accept that pleasure since the very first night of their marriage?
The prince immediately noticed his wife’s revealing attire with a little start of surprise. She approached him with anticipation; for once excited by the prospect of giving him the “ecstasy” described in the verses she had read earlier that day. She almost felt that in serving her husband she would be serving their creator.
Lowering her filmy gown timidly, Princess Devotia exposed her upper body to her husband’s gaze, recalling with a little tremble the advice she had read that said, “Let her own breasts intoxicate you at all times.” Yes, she thought, let them intoxicate him to the fullest!
The prince gasped when he saw her. His eyes drank in the sight that to him was beauty itself. He could not stop his fingers from reaching out to touch the full richness that she presented to him. At his touch she did not shrink away, but actually seemed to move toward him, reveling in the exquisite feel of his hands as they caressed her breasts so lovingly. He could not account for this change in her demeanor, but he would not question it, either. He lowered his mouth to taste of her flesh, and suckled eagerly at the tip of her breast, causing a ripple of pleasure to shoot through her and sending a surge of moisture between her legs in preparation for her body to receive him. And she could not help but reflect upon how faultlessly perfect it all was!
But her husband was in no hurry to take her. Whatever the cause of this little godsend, he intended to enjoy it to the fullest extent that his wife would allow. He continued to suckle one and then the other of her breasts, pushing her nightgown farther down with his hands, until it fell silently to the floor at her feet.
As her husband was savoring his exploration of her body, the words Princess Devotia read earlier that day rang in her ears— “Likewise, also, the husband does not exercise authority over his own body, but his wife does.” It was the same for her then, she realized. Just as she was surrendering her body over to him, he was obliged to do the same for her. Her hands began to trace over his sinewy muscles, delighting in the male strength of him. Her curious touches quickly led her to the object of her interest, and she grabbed hold of it; for it was standing proud and eager, pointing out at her from between her husband’s legs. The prince jumped at her touch, but he did not interfere with her hands as they continued to explore and touch. He seemed to possess the same desire as her, to own and be owned by the other. She imagined their creator watching as she stroked him, and suddenly it occurred to her that He would be pleased.
There was one thing in particular that her husband had always wished she would do, but without ever giving it much consideration she had dismissed it as too indulgent and therefore immoral. Now she could not recall why she had felt that way. What particular teaching or verse had validated that opinion? She did not know. All she knew for certain was that it was a way to give her husband pleasure, and wasn’t it within her rights to do whatever she wished with his body, short of hurting him?
She had been kissing the warm flesh over his chest and stomach and so she simply moved her kisses lower, until she spread her lips over his hard shaft and took him all the way into her mouth. This simple act of putting her mouth on him sent thrills of pleasure through her. Her husband responded also, nearly jumping out of his skin as she engulfed him in her mouth, and gasping loudly with his obvious pleasure. How lovely it must feel, she mused, for him to respond so. She licked and sucked his fleshy appendage with vigor, and every little moan of delight that escaped his lips made her quiver with satisfaction. She felt that by loving her husband so fully and fearlessly, surely she was embracing all that was right and good. The old guilt was nearly completely gone; replaced with a new fervor to “do onto others as you would have done onto you.” He had fulfilled her expectations of a husband in every way she had allowed; shouldn’t she, too, do the same?
Princess Devotia’s husband seemed to be thinking the same thing at that moment, because he stopped her suddenly to pick her up in his arms and place her lovingly on their bed. He kissed her hard on the mouth, passionately, and then asked her in a hoarse whisper, “May I, too, my love, partake of your banquet?”
“Indeed,” she replied, delighting in the knowledge that he wanted to please her, too. “I am yours to do with as you wish.”
His eyes widened and his head shook in amazement as he heard this, but he did not linger long in confusion. He lay beside her, facing in the opposite direction, so that both could enjoy the other at leisure and however they wished. He explored her with his fingers and tongue, using the little noises of pleasure that escaped her lips with the trembling responses of her body, to determine what she liked best. In short time he learned a great many of her secrets.
The princess, too, was quickly discovering the best ways to give pleasure to her husband, using her lips and tongue and hands. Suddenly it had all become clear, and his body no longer seemed illicit or depraved. On the contrary, it was as if he was an extension of herself, and she remembered vaguely an admonishment she had heard in their marital vows that “the two shall become one.” In accepting her husband and pleasing him, she was accepting the handiwork of her creator and pleasing him. In giving her husband more than the minimum service, more in fact than what was expected of her; she felt that she was honoring life. She delighted in this service and performed it to the best of her abilities.
On the other hand, the princess also assigned to her husband all rights to her body, splaying herself wide open for him to do with her as he wished, hiding nothing, and withholding nothing, and thereby allowing him to give her the pleasure he, too, had been instructed by their creator to give. If there had been shame in their marital bed before, it now occurred to her that it was the shame that she herself had brought in through the sin of self-righteousness, pride and apathy. She had been following the advice of charlatans, who had the impertinence to speak for their own creator.
Indeed, if any spirit had looked down at them in that moment, they truly would have appeared to be one flesh; for their embrace was absolute in its love and benevolence and passion, and they had reached that stage of ecstasy that visits the body and mind directly before the thrill of release and its subsequent exhilaration.
But the prince stopped abruptly, desiring all of a sudden to hold his wife within his bosom and taste her sweet moans when she reached the height of her passion. The princess acquiesced to the adjustment quickly, clutching her husband to her so earnestly that she practically absorbed him into her flesh. She perceived im mediately that her munificence with him had already paid back dividends, not only in her own heightened pleasure, or even the pleasure one gets from truly pleasing another, but, rather, the completely unforeseen bonus of having strengthened the bond that she had previously shared with her husband, and even creating a new, more genuine intimacy between them. Until that very moment, she had not even realized how desperately she had needed the intimacy.
All of these ruminations were rather fleeting and faint, like little epiphanies that hover unseen behind one’s consciousness, but have much impact on their behavior.
Meanwhile, with her body, the princess focused all her effort and energy on pleasing her