tagFetishThe Princess and the Pee

The Princess and the Pee


This is a fairytale erotic romance, and not terribly explicit. It was inspired by Carnevil9's forum post: "In LIT-Land, it would be the Princess and the PEE, not the Pea. How can we fracture this fairy tale into the realm of water sports?"


The chamber pot was polished silver. As gifts from potential future husbands went, it was bizarre to say the least, and yet Jasmina found it oddly touching.

Oddly exciting too. Squatting over it, in the privacy of her room, she could see herself reflected in it, her womanhood, the lips that parted as her pee gushed forth.

Thinking no more on it, she slipped between the covers, glad that the bed had been warmed for her. One day soon, perhaps, hopefully, the prince would be her nightly companion, a source of warmth and love and passion.

Jasmina wondered what he was like. His portraits showed him to be handsome, and certainly he was wealthy. Her father's kingdom was little more than island of farmers and fishermen; the prince was heir to a kingdom that dwarfed her own.

She was not the first to seek his hand in marriage. Many powerful kings had sent their daughters in hope of political alliance. She herself could not compare, and had nothing but herself to offer. Still, if she failed, it was worth the journey. The view from her room was magnificent, snow-capped mountains and lush forests that filled her heart with a longing to remain forever.

Her maid servant woke her in the middle of the night. "My Lady," she whispered.

"What is it, Sara?"

"The prince, My Lady. I overheard his servants talking while in the ale. He's a daft one, no question. Seems he has a thing for watching women pee. He has this idea that you can tell a real princess by the sweet smell of her pee."

"That's absurd!"

"Aye, My Lady, but that's why none have snared him yet. Forgive me for saying so, but once he gets his nose in your pot, he'll have none of you either."

Jasmina sighed, understanding at last that the silver chamber pot was part of a test. How strange to judge a woman not by her fortune or her beauty, but by her pee. She tried to imagine the prince watching her while she squatted over the pot to pee - and far from horrifying her, the thought awoke a fierce desire.

"What am I to do, Sara? How can I control the smell of my pee? Is it even possible?"

"Are you serious, My Lady? You'd let him watch you and smell you?" Sara shook her head and laughed. She frowned in sudden thought. "I might be able to make a spell, but magic's a tricky thing."

"Do it, Sara. Please!"

"Sleep, My Lady, and I'll work on it."

Jasmina slept, and when she awoke, she was disappointed not to see Sara. Nature was calling, and the call was urgent. She left the bed's warmth reluctantly and walked over to the chamber pot.

It was empty. Clean. Sara had at least removed the previous day's evidence of her failure. Squatting, as before, she watched her pee stream out from between her lips, but this time it was a clear, glistening waterfall with just the subtlest aroma of her usual pee. A hint of rose water too.

Sara entered the room. From the fatigue in her eyes, it was clear she hadn't slept. "You did it, Sara!" Jasmina cried. "How long will the spell last?"

"Forever, My Lady, though I fear the spell was stronger than I planned."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Only that the smell of your pee is now an aphrodisiac, and it's not just the prince whose blood will be stirred by it." She blushed and looked away. "It's certainly affecting me."

Sara's confession startled Jasmina, and made her suddenly very curious. She moved closer to her maid servant. "Affecting you how?"

With a moan of lust, Sara dropped to her knees and buried her nose between Jasmina's thighs. "You smell divine, My Lady. All I want to do is drown in you."

Jasmina parted her legs. "Then drown in me. How could I deny you the gift you have given me." She cried out as Sara's tongue delved between her lips and swept across the very centre of her pleasure. "Yes, Sara, there."

The sun brightened the mountain slopes and brought fresh life to the forest while Sara taught Jasmina the meaning of ecstasy. "In truth, My Lady," Sara said as they lay together after, "I have long wanted to do that, but never imagined I would."

Jasmina smiled. "I think I must insist you do this every morning, whether I am married or no."

Sara kissed her. "Your wish is my command, My Lady."


That same morning, even as Jasmina was squatting over the polished silver chamber pot in the ornately furnished chamber reserved for visiting royalty, far below her in the town, in a draughty building of wooden construction, a young woman with blonde curls and rosy cheeks squatted over a wooden bucket.

Amaline's legs were spread wide to give the young man standing before her a clear view of her womanhood as she did her business. She grinned up cheekily at Aster whose hand was wrapped about his erect manhood and working it with determination. Her own hands she used to squeeze her breasts together, lifting them up from time to time so that she could lick her nipples teasingly.

With a moan of intense pleasure, Aster climaxed, and the fruit of his climax he aimed at Amaline's beautiful breasts until they glistened in the morning sunlight.

He dressed quickly and took a silver coin from his pocket. "Thank you, Amaline," he said. Amaline was his favourite amongst the women, pretty despite her squint and bad teeth, and always cheerful.

"Thank you, Your Highness," she said, taking the coin from him.

Prince Aster left the brothel and made his way back to the palace, wondering whether Princess Jasmina would be as much a disappointment as all the others had been. He was almost resigned to the possibility that he would never find a wife that would satisfy both himself and his kingdom.

As a child, cursed with too many tutors and nannies, he had often played hide and seek about the palace, and had hidden oft beneath the eaves of his mother's four-poster. Peeking out at floor level, he had learned to identify people by their footwear as much as their voices, and had been privy to that most private of matters.

The sight of his mother squatting over her chamber pot, her skirt lifted, her womanly parts unwittingly exposed, a golden stream gushing forth... The knowledge that he was witnessing something profoundly forbidden to him was a thrill that had stayed with him, and there were still occasions - increasingly rare - that he managed to conceal himself in that old hiding place to witness the lifting of his mother's skirt.

In later years, though there was pleasure in the pursuit of sex - how many chambermaids had he seduced over the years? - his thoughts and imaginings turned increasingly to the old thrill. But the palace girls were horrified by his whispered requests, or perhaps simply too shy, and these pleasures soon turned to frustrations.

As an adult, free to wander in the town, he was a regular at the brothel. The women there thought him strange, but indulged his peculiar vice in exchange for coin. Wondrous to watch, but alas the women bathed infrequently and suffered often from illness, so while there was pleasure in watching them, he had no desire for greater intimacy.

No, he needed a more refined woman. A princess - a true princess whose sweet nature extended even to her chamber pot. Sadly, of all who had come to seek his hand in marriage (many fair of face and of good nature) none had passed the real test he set them.

Not once had the contents of a chamber pot enticed him to better acquaintance.

Until Jasmina.

As usual, he intercepted the maid as she carried away the silver chamber pot in the morning. "I'll take care of this," he said.

"Yes, Your Highness," she said, as if it was a perfectly natural thing for the son of a king to do.

Aster fully expected to be repelled, as always, but the aroma astonished him. Never had he smelled such delicately fragranced pee. He knew immediately, in his heart, that he had found his princess.

He wondered what she looked like, whether she was as beautiful as indeed she must be, for she smelled divine. But could she be persuaded to share her most private moments with him?


Jasmina dressed early in preparation for the afternoon's planned audience with the king and court. Her body still resonated with the blissful pleasure her maid Sara had induced earlier, and her curiosity about the prince's strange desires provoked a shameful hunger in herself.

"Will he be there?" she asked.

Sara laughed. "One whiff of your sweet golden nectar, My Lady, and he'll be on his knees worshipping you."

Jasmina felt herself blushing at the conjured image of the prince with his nose in the silver chamber pot. Could he really, she wondered, choose her to be his wife just by the smell of her pee? Should she feel guilty that by using Sara's witchcraft she was in effect cheating her way into his bed?

Then again, what kind of prince would trick a princess into giving him her pee?

A loud knock at the door distracted her from her confused thoughts. She and Sara exchanged a puzzled look as Sara crossed to the chamber door and opened it.

She recognised the young man who entered as Prince Aster. He had short dark hair and piercing blue eyes, and was as young and handsome as the portraits she had seen about the palace had led her to expect. He was dressed to match his station, but a button was undone and his shirt was escaping his trousers at the back.

Having charged excitedly into her room, he caught sight of her and came to an abrupt halt, radiating anxiety. In his hands he held the silver chamber pot, and seemed suddenly at a loss about what to do with it. He smiled with nervous gratitude as Sara took it from him.

To Jasmina he said, "Forgive the intrusion, My Lady, but I could not wait for this afternoon, and formal introductions can be so tiresome."

Jasmina offered him a tentative smile. "I also was growing weary of waiting. Your portraits don't do you justice, My Lord."

"I must confess I have seen none of you, My Lady, and am most pleasantly surprised."

"Thank you, My Lord."

Aster took a deep breath, and seemed to be debating some important matter with himself for a few seconds. With a sigh of exasperation he straightened himself and looked into her eyes. "I have another confession to make," he said. "I fear it may horrify you."

Jasmina could feel the heat rising in her cheeks in anticipation. Nevertheless, she remained calm. "I pray you, continue."

"I have a secret desire," he started, then hesitated before finding the courage to speak on. "I desire a wife who will share certain intimacies with me that no well bred woman ever would."

Jasmina's cheeks were positively burning. "What intimacies, My Lord?"

Aster crossed the room and knelt before her. "My Lady, will you allow me to observe while you use the chamber pot?"

Sara, unbidden, placed the silver chamber pot on the floor behind Jasmina. "It's ready for you, My Lady," she said, barely suppressing a grin.

Now that the moment was here, and both Sara and the prince were watching her expectantly, Jasmina had no idea if she could do it. Never had she exposed herself to a man before, and certainly she had never squatted so lewdly before one. Certainly her mother would be aghast at the idea of it even being suggested.

And yet... A part of her was throbbing with need - the same part of her that would be so wickedly exposed. "Yes, My Lord," she said, her voice scarcely more than a whisper.

Sara helped her hitch up her skirt and she lowered herself over the waiting chamber pot. Spreading her legs, she watched Aster's eyes fill with awe as he focussed on her revealed womanhood. Looking down, she could see herself glistening with evidence of her arousal.

It should have been humiliating, but it merely made her burn more furiously.

"Beautiful," the prince whispered.

Jasmina squatted for so long her legs protested, but at last she was able to relax and release the flow. With a sound that was as much whimper as sigh, she emptied herself, pee as clear as spring water gushing from between parted lips.

Not until the last drop fell into the pot did Aster tear his avid gaze away. She half expected to see condemnation in his eyes, but she found there only sincere admiration.

As she struggled back to her feet, Aster bent to breathe in the aroma of her pee. "If he's feeling even half of what I'm feeling, My Lady," Sara murmured in her ear, "you're in danger of losing your maidenhood before you're even married."

Jasmina nodded. "My Lord," she said, and waited for him to look at her. "I will happily share this - and more - with you, once we are married, so long as you will share me with my maid Sara."

Aster gave Sara a puzzled look. Shrugging, he said, "So long as you keep your affections discreet, I have no objection to that."

Leaping to his feet suddenly, he yelled with triumphant joy. "My Lady Jasmina," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "Will you consent to marry me?"

Jasmina grinned back at him. "I will, My Prince."

The door to her chamber slammed open and guards rushed in, responding to Aster's shout. Moments later, the king charged in, the queen hot on his heels. Jasmina was uncomfortably aware of the chamber pot on the floor between herself and Aster. Fortunately, her skirt was as it should be, and not still hitched up about her waist.

"She said yes!" Aster cried.

After a minute, the king and queen's expressions of surprise gave way to relief. "Is it true?" the king demanded, even as the queen asked, "You are to be married?"

"Yes and yes," the prince replied. "Today!"

"Patience, Aster!" the queen cried, smiling warmly at Jasmina. "There is much to prepare, and all the kingdom to invite."

"No," Aster insisted. "We will wed in secret today, and make public our union with a grand celebration when a month has passed." He turned to Jasmina. "Is that acceptable, My Lady?"

"It is, My Lord."

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