One Day My Prince Will Come

"I'm going out. There's a pile of mending there for you, Ella. When you finish, you may do some more of that lacework you do so well," the prince told me. I blushed with pride. I didn't know he had noticed. My fingers flew over the work, replacing buttons on his clothing, darning small holes in his socks. I was so happy he was letting me serve him again, after the disaster of the day before. Finished with the mending, I turned to the lace as he instructed.

"It is a hard thing, learning to be the king," he said without preface when he returned, his voice weary and his eyes tired. "Come sit by me Ella, I have work to do, but your presence will make it easier." He placed a low stool next his desk and I hurried over and sat down.

"Take out your ponytail." I did so, my golden hair falling halfway down to my waist. He stroked my hair absentmindedly as he turned over papers, signing some, setting others aside. He pulled me to him, my head resting on his firm thigh as he continued stroking my hair. The last paper done, he stood up.

"Ella, do you think a thing a pain can also be a thing of pleasure?" he asked, suddenly.

"I'm not sure, Sire," I stuttered, not understanding what he meant.

"Stand up and remove your underpants," he ordered. I froze. "Come now, Ella, I promised to leave you a virgin, and you promised to obey. Shall I have to whip you again to remind you?"

"No, Sire," I answered, sliding my underwear down to the floor and stepping out of them.

"Very good. Now put your hands on the chair as you did when I whipped you."

I followed his instructions, glad that my shift covered my nakedness. He pulled out the riding crop. "Here is the riding crop I whipped you with, Ella. Did it hurt, or were those crocodile tears?"

"It hurt, Sire."

"So this is a thing of pain, then?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Close your eyes, Ella."

My eyes closed, I could feel him come close behind me, the heat of his body perceptible although he wasn't touching me. He reached around and began rubbing the crop gently back and forth against my nipple. It hardened, the feeling electric, shooting waves of pleasure throughout my body. He moved to my other nipple, circling it now with what felt like the handle of the crop, again and again as my breath grew quick.

"Lift up your skirt, Ella," he ordered. I hesitated, but complied. He ran the handle of the crop back and forth between my legs, the leather becoming wet with the moisture that had begun to flow when he caressed my breasts, then focused on the hard nub in front that was the center of my pleasure.

"So, Ella, I ask you again, do you think a thing a pain can also be a thing of pleasure?"

"Yes, Sire," I gasped. Back and forth the slick leather slid across me as I felt a fire building between my legs, a feeling like I might faint or even die building inside me until my body shuddered in climax. I clung to the chair to keep steady on my feet as he leaned closer to me. I could feel the hardness of his manhood pressing up against my back as I struggled to catch my breath.

"Put your underpants on Ella. I have a meeting of my councilors in a few minutes. I trust you can sit in the room quietly and do your lacework until they leave."

"Yes, Sire."

I made my way unsteadily to the chair that had been set aside for me and sat down to work. "Not this room," the prince corrected me, "the council room." I grabbed my basket and followed him. "Sit here," he ordered, pointing to a chair set away from the council table, but the window. It was a strange chair. Low and cushioned, it had two arms, but they didn't run parallel to one another as with most chairs. Instead, they met at the back of the chair and went out perpendicularly, with a small cushion at the back and on each arm. I sat working as the councilors met, sure they could smell the sweat and musk of my climax on me, but no one paid me any attention, other than the prince, who flicked his eyes my way a few times as the meeting dragged on. As instructed, I worked on my lace and didn't speak.

After the councilors filed out, he stood behind me, running his hand through my ponytail. "Very good, Ella. You are getting much better at following instructions. Now, swing your legs up on the chair legs." I looked at him, baffled.

"One leg here, and one leg here," he pointed. "Put your legs where the cushions are." I obeyed, blushing. In this position, my legs were spread wide, my skirt rode up, exposing my still-damp underpants. Prince Aaron sat down and stared at me, looking me up and down, examining every inch of me. I half expected him to inspect my teeth like my father would do to a new horse he was thinking of buying.

"For a woman with such a mania for cleanliness, one thinks you would attend more closely to your own hygiene, Ella," the prince said.

"I bathed this morning, Sire. It is only the sweat from, well, from before," I stammered.

"That's not what I meant. Go warm some water in the fireplace."

I did has he ordered, letting him know when the water was hot. "Very good," he said, "Bring it and come with me to the bathroom."

I followed him, wondering what he intended next. "Take off your underpants and dress. You may leave your shirt on. Sit there on the stool."

I could not imagine what he meant by any of this as he fetched a mug, dropped a bit of soap in it and poured the hot water over it, stirring it with a thick brush. He knelt before me and commanded me to spread my legs. My face flushed red, but I did as I was told, and he began spreading the hot soapy water across my lower lips. I felt myself grow hot and moist again as the brush dragged across my sex. He stepped away for a moment, coming back with a straight razor. I rose up from the stool in fear. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ella. I'm just going to shave this unsightly mat of hair. You can't do it yourself, but if you'd be more comfortable, I can call Mr. Thomas to do it." Slowly and carefully, he shaved me bare before standing me up and turning me around. Once more the hot, soapy brush was called into service as he rubbed it between the cheeks of my ass before removing some hairs he apparently found there. Finally, he ordered me into the tub, pouring what was left of the water over my sex, washing away the last of the soap.

"Please get dressed and see yourself out. I have much to attend to before the ball and will not have time to spend with you. Mr. Thomas will come to you with instructions. You will follow them as if they came from me, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sire."

So that was it then. He was leaving me a virgin, just as he had promised, but where I had once hoped he would not notice me, I now wanted nothing than his attention, which he no longer cared to give.

I went back to work the next day, trying to focus on my tasks even as I wanted nothing more than to be sitting on the floor next to the prince, his fingers stroking my hair. "Ella!" A voice startled me. "Quit daydreaming. Mr. Thomas needs you." The prince's valet led me down hallways, through passages to a little room I had never entered. A small woman was sitting there, surrounded shelves and baskets of fabrics and sewing notions.

"I will leave you here with Mrs. Gruen. She will be sewing your dress for the ball. Mind you follow her instructions and return to work when she is done with you," Mr. Thomas told me.

It seemed like hours as Mrs. Gruen measured me and sketched. Then sketched and measured me some more. By the time she was done, the day's work was done. The next days flew by as delivery after delivery came: food, flowers, decorations, and more. The palace was immaculate, and there was little for us to do as the professional staff took over, arranging flowers, hanging decorations, setting tables, and preparing the ornate feast. I watched trays of silver pass me in a hallway, it seemed so long ago that I had sat in the prince's chambers polishing those pieces, and now it seemed I would never see him again.

The morning of the Valentine's Ball, Mr. Thomas fetched me and turned me over to the attentions of a lady in waiting. I was scrubbed, polished, and painted. My hair was pulled straight back and sleek against my head and styled in a high tight bun, . Mrs. Gruen came with my dress and Mr. Thomas delivered jewels. Left alone for a few moments with the valet, he coughed and fidgeted, so unlike his usual self.

"Just say what you need to say, Mr. Thomas, I'm sure it cannot be any more embarrassing than some of what I have experienced these weeks."

"In addition to the jewels he sent, His Highness would like you wear this," he said, handing me a small pouch and clearing his throat again. "You wear it, ahem, behind. There is a small flask of oil included should you need it." He hurried from the room. I opened the pouch. Inside was a small glass object, like a tower, but with ridges running along it and a base that flared out. Was this even possible, I wondered. But the prince had told me to treat Mr. Thomas's instructions as if they came from him. I spread oil across the glass cylinder and inserted it between my cheeks, feeling the center stretch my tight little hole while the base held it firmly in place. The fullness was distracting, yet exciting. Was I really expected to attend a dance with such a thing lodged in my behind? Before I had a chance to reconsider, the lady in waiting entered with a corset.

"I thought corsets were out of fashion this year," I exclaimed.

"This was the prince's order," she explained, wrapping it around my middle and cinching it tight. "Breath in, miss." She pulled tight again, my waist growing smaller with each tug, finally making tying the straps when she was sure the prince would find no fault. She helped me into my dress and sat for me pair of red silk slippers to step into. After hours of preparations, I was ready. Dressed and bejeweled, and wearing, as all the partygoers would, a mask, I made my way to the ballroom, where the music of the orchestra was already playing. With no formal invitation save an order to appear from the prince, I slipped in a side entrance and joined the crowd. The ballroom was positively covered with hearts and flowers, the guards wearing tunics embroidered with hearts and cupids, and two golden cupids, taller even than Prince Aaron, flanking the main entrance.

Looking at the ladies, I felt myself woefully mis-dressed. The women dripped with jewels, their gowns brightly colored, sleeveless and with plunging necklines and ornate trains and slits, all threatening to expose their breasts at the slightest false move and showing their legs with each dance step they took. They were like gilded birds, glittering tiaras perched atop ornate hairdos. And me? I wore a simple gown of cream silk. The neckline scooped demurely just below my collarbone and the dress had cap sleeves. Embroidered all along the skirt of the dress, which fell straight to the floor with no train at all, were pink and red roses. And while the other ladies had jewels everywhere jewels could be attach, I wore but three pieces. My drop earrings were a ruby heart, joined to a diamond teardrop, and then another ruby heart. Rubies and diamonds also made up my white gold headpiece, which lay flat against my hair. Wrapped around my high blonde bun, the chain circled my head with three jewels running down my forehead: ruby, diamond, ruby. The third piece, I had never seen its like before. The lady in waiting called it a handflower. A loop of white gold encircled my finger, while a band of diamond and rubies went around my wrist. Chains of white gold interspersed with still more diamonds and rubies linked the piece together. While a description sounds quite ornate, compared to the other women there I felt like a daisy among so many hot-house flowers.

I stood to the side, uncertain if I should stay or go. My presence had been commanded, but perhaps I would not even be noticed if I left. . . Before I could complete the thought, Prince Aaron swept me into his arms, twirling and swirling me around the dance floor I had only too recently polished. My mask hid me from onlookers and from the prince alike as he made a speech he had clearly practiced in advance:

"My Ella, you look ravishing, a vision of refinement next to these peahens dressed as peacocks. Like your father, I would own what belongs to me. If you will wed me, I promise pleasure and pain, ecstasy and agony." With those words he pressed me to him, his manhood hard against me as he grasped my bottom and pushed the glass cylinder deeper within me. I thought of him rubbing me to climax with the same crop that had punished me for my disobedience and felt a flush of wetness between my legs. "You may find me to be a hard master at times," he continued, "but rest assured you will always be treated as my most treasured possession. If you agree, when you leave the ball, do not stand in the receiving line as the others will. Simply slip out that side door in a few minutes, but drop one of your slippers on the way. Mr. Thomas will see to it you are returned to the maid's quarters. The people like a bit of theatre," he said enigmatically.

I wasn't there to see it all unfold. As promised, Mr. Thomas met me in the hall, then waited while my finery was returned to the lady in waiting and I, clad again in my uniform, was led back to my bed, where the other maids were already sleeping. At midnight, when the prince was to announce his choice of a bride, he told everyone he would marry the girl who had dropped her ruby-red slipper. How the ladies pushed and fussed, but the shoe, made especially for me, fit no one else. Finally, it was suggested that someone from the palace, a maid perhaps, had slipped into the Valentine's Ball and captured the prince's heart. We were all awakened and taken to the ball room. Perhaps on another day, the king and queen might have objected to their son marrying a farmer's daughter, but on a night of love and romance, how could they help but give their blessing?

The door to my chamber opened and in strode my prince, now the king. I was thankful that my changing body had not cooled his ardor for me. In fact, it had, if possible, inflamed it. I slid off the bed and dropped to my knees as he opened his trousers and pulled out his turgid cock. As I did each morning, I took him into my mouth, sucking him deep, licking the length of him, probing his slit until he filled my mouth with his cum, all the white pinching and twisting my nipples roughly and pulling on my long ponytail until I almost came myself.

Lifting me to my feet, he said, "Come along my little whore of a queen, Mrs. Gruen has made the most elegant dress for this year's Valentine's Ball. I think you will like how it complements your current assets." He kissed me deep, with a tight squeeze of my breast that left me panting, then led me from the room, hand tight around my wrist.

And we lived happily ever after.