The Royal Valentine's Day Ball was tomorrow and though I was expected to attend, the doctor had visited the night before and advised my husband it might not be wise for me to go. I ran my hands over my full, swollen breasts and rounded tummy. My second baby was due any day, and a night of dancing might be too strenuous, the doctor felt. Frankly, I didn't even know how I would find a gown to fit my pregnant body, but I would do whatever my husband wished. I stretched out beneath the blankets and waited for him to come to me, as he did each morning, thinking back to my first Valentine's Day Ball, five years before. . .
It was two weeks before the Valentine's Ball and the palace was a hive of activity. During the six months of corvée work all 18 year olds--except for those of noble birth--were required to do for the royal family after they finished school, I had gotten used to being a downstairs maid. I knew my duties and I did them well, just counting off the days until I could return to my family. But then the preparations for the ball began and everything was upside down. Downstairs maids were upstairs maids, indoor help was outdoor help as everyone scurried to make the palace ready for Valentine's Ball.
There was a ball every year, I knew, although a family of my station did not typically receive an invitation, but this year's Ball was something else again. The king had decided he wanted to step down, but before he could, the prince must marry. At age 30, Prince Aaron was the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom. King Rudolph had decreed that should he not become engaged by the night of the ball, he must pick a girl from those attending.
I, along with several other corvée girls, was hard at work scrubbing and polishing the ornate wood ballroom floor under the watchful eye on Mrs. Swigg, head of all the downstairs maids when I heard voices approach. It was the prince and his valet. I crouched lower to the floor, scrubbing with all my might, willing the prince not to see me. I had successfully avoided his attentions thus far, and I wanted to keep it that way. Everyone knew what his attentions meant, and while some of the maids welcomed the possibility, I, for one, did not.
"I'll take that one, and that one, and that one," I heard the prince say in a commanding voice, as if he were ordering horses or pastries. Please, I hoped, don't let it be me he's pointing at.
"Very good, Sire," answered the butler. "I'll have them brought up," he said, as he walked over to Mrs. Swigg.
Her voice rang out firmly, "Cristina, Agatha, Ella, you are needed in the prince's chambers."
I sighed, pulling myself up from the floor. Even girls who served the prince directly didn't draw always his attention; perhaps I wouldn't either.
"Right then," the valet was saying. "My name is Mr. Thomas." You'll be working in the prince's personal chambers. I'll need you three to clean up and change. Meet me at the bottom of the east staircase in 40 minutes. Mrs. Swigg will have your cleaning supplies ready.
Together we hurried back to our chambers for a quick wash-up. I splashed water on my face, my blue eyes staring back at me in the mirror, my white skin paler than normal with fear. I finished by smoothing down my long blonde hair and pulling my low ponytail tight. We changed, although of course we simply changed one uniform for an identical, although slightly cleaner one. We each wore a coarse brown jumper that scooped down just below our busts and fell to just below our knees. Beneath it we wore a simple white cotton shirt, held closed with a drawstring. I pulled my drawstring tight, bringing the blouse high up around my neck, while Cristina and Agatha wore theirs looser, leaving the top of the fabric just below their collarbones, but they were city girls and used to less modest fashions. On top of the jumper we each wore a simple white apron tied tight around our waists and brown slippers that allowed us to walk quietly through the palace without scuffing any floors.
In just under 40 minutes, we were at our assigned place. Mr. Thomas led us up the staircase and down the long hall to the prince's private chambers. I hoped that he might not be there, that we could clean his rooms and go back to work in the ballroom, but when the door swung wide, there was Prince Aaron sitting at a high-backed desk, working, a pair of councilors hovering around him. Mr. Thomas gave us our assignments and we set to work, dusting, changing linens, scrubbing every surface. The prince and his advisors continued as if we weren't even there, although once or twice I had the feeling of being watched. When we finished our work, Mr. Thomas dismissed us, complementing our efforts and putting us back in the charge of Mrs. Swigg. It was over, and with any luck, I thought, we wouldn't be called back tomorrow. Just as the door swung closed, I heard the prince say, "I'll have the blonde one again tomorrow. Alone." I glanced quickly at my two brown-haired companions and shuddered.
When Mr. Thomas fetched me early the next morning, I found a pile of shirts laid on the bed, an ironing table set up and three irons warming in the fire. "I don't understand, Mr. Thomas. The palace has its own laundry. Wouldn't it be better for me to take the shirts there and return them when I'm done?"
The prince startled me, emerging from his bath chamber and answering my question. "Yes, that would be more efficient. But I like to watch a pretty woman at work. Now, get to it. Mr. Thomas, you may leave me. I'll need you in two hours."
The prince sat down at his desk and began writing as Mr. Thomas left me there alone. There was nothing to do but begin ironing. I fetched a hot iron from the fire and sprinkled water on the shirt as the iron cooled slightly. Testing it on a towel to see that it would not burn the fabric, I set to work. The prince did not speak, but now and again, I heard the scratch of his quill pen stop and sensed his eyes on me, his stare eliciting a warmth in my backside or slender hips as I ironed or knelt before the fire changing out an iron that had grown too cool for a hotter one. I watched the clock as I worked. Twenty minutes before Mr. Thomas was due back, I hung the last shirt in the wardrobe and turned around to find the prince standing just a foot away from me.
"Is that all, Your Highness? Shall I return downstairs, or do you have other duties for me?" I stammered as he towered over me, at least seven inches taller than me. His dark brown eyes looked me up and down, lingering on my breasts before returning to my eyes.
"What is your name, girl?"
"Ella," I answered. What did he want from me? He was staring at my lips now, and I felt as if I could not breathe, as if all the air had been forced from the room. And then he was leaning toward me, his hand coming up ask if to touch my face. I stepped backward.
"Don't touch me!" I cried.
"What?" he thundered at me, his brown eyes looking black with anger. "What is this impudence?"
Not knowing where the strength came from, I answered, "I'm here to work, Your Highness. And I have worked hard. My corvee is over the day after the ball and I want to go home to my family. I don't want to be one of your conquests."
The prince threw back his head and laughed. "My conquests! That's rich, girl. Most women are falling all over themselves for an opportunity to be alone with me."
For a moment, when I saw his eyes blacken with rage, I had been afraid, but now I felt more confident. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness, I know what happens to women who attract your attentions; they are married off to or made the mistress of some minor royal, councilor, or general."
"And that is such a terrible fate?" the prince asked.
"Those men, you give them everything: their titles, their power, even their women. They are nothing but for their toadying up to you and the king. My father is a farmer, but he owns his land, his cows, his sheep, and goats. He has worked hard for everything he has and he owns it all outright. I would rather be married to a man like that, a man I could respect, than some sycophant."
"I see, Ella. Very well, you may leave me now. Report back to your regular duties."
I thought that would be it, counted myself lucky, but the next day, while I was polishing one of the silver candelabras that would light up the ballroom in just a few days' time, I was summoned again by Mr. Thomas. "Change please, if you would, Ella, and meet me at the bottom of the east staircase."
"Mr. Thomas. . ." I began, but he waved me off.
"East staircase, 20 minutes," he said as he departed.
Cleaned and changed, I met Mr. Thomas again and ascended the staircase. As we walked down the hall, I saw a guard posted outside the door to the Prince's chamber. My heart beat faster with dread. Was I to be punished for my words yesterday?
Mr. Thomas pushed the door open. There stood a low table, covered in silver of all kind: candlesticks, heart-shaped platters and serving bowls; forks, knives and spoons. A mountain of silver, plus rags and polish.
"You told the Prince you had worked hard, Ella. And work hard you shall. This is the silver for the Valentine's Ball, or most of it. As you finish, more will be brought to you. Appear here for work each morning at 8 a.m.," Mr. Thomas explained.
"And the guard?" I asked.
Prince Aaron entered the room behind me. "The guard is here for your protection, Ella, from my unwanted advances. Should you call out 'Stop,' he has orders to enter at once and rescue you from my clutches." The prince's voice was hard, but his eyes twinkled. I wasn't sure if was serious or teasing me, but I set to work, determined to endure what could not be avoided.
"Don't forget the gloves, miss," Mr. Thomas instructed. "You wouldn't want to hurt your hands before your work is completed."
I worked for hours. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the prince watching me as he attended to his own duties, councilors coming and going, menus for the grand Valentine's banquet being revised and refined, all of this going on with no one questioning a servant girl polishing silver in the middle of the Prince's bed chamber. Once, when we were alone, he spoke without looking at me, "You should stop and stretch each hour, Ella. You'll find yourself stiff from working so long in one position."
It was true; I could feel the stiffness in my body as stood before the windows and stretched, looking out over the countryside, blanketed in snow. In just over a week, I would be home again. My eyes couldn't wait to see all the familiar places of my childhood. I knew the prince was watching me as I bent and touched my toes, then stood up and arched from side to side, working the kinks from my muscles, but he didn't approach me and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The days passed, mostly without me speaking or anyone speaking to me, other than a "Good morning," "Good work," and "Good night." Many hours I was alone in the room as the prince and his valet attended to duties elsewhere and I found I missed his presence, although it was more comfortable to stop and stretch without feeling as if my body was on display. My meals were brought to me there, and I used a small washroom located off a council chamber that was part of the prince's apartments. As the week drew to a close, I noticed that the loads of silver being brought to me were smaller, but more intricate. I polished dozens of silver Cupids Mr. Thomas told me would stand on the large banquet tables, scrubbing with a small brush, but the pile grew smaller day by day, until at the end of the week there was no more silver left for me to polish.
"Good work, Ella," Mr. Thomas said. "I will expect you tomorrow morning at 8 a.m." When I appeared the next morning as ordered, the guard was there as usual, but Mr. Thomas was not. The guard rapped on the door and I heard the prince order me to enter. I looked around, but there was no work for me to do. No ironing, no silver, and not even a cleaning implement that I could see.
"Good morning, Your Highness. What are my duties today?" I inquired.
"It is a strange thing, Ella. This is the last week of my bachelorhood, and yet I do not want to be alone. Your duties are to keep me company. Don't worry, the guard will remain in place. You'll find a basket of needlework next to the chair there and a few books on the side table, as I might ask you to read to me. You are not to clean or labor, but simply find some womanly task to keep you occupied." With that, he turned his back to me and sat down to work at his desk.
I sat down as ordered and began doing some fancywork my mother had taught me, making delicate lace out of fine white thread I found in the basket. The Prince ignored me altogether until lunchtime, when his meal was brought to his chambers. "Come Ella, join me while I dine."
I followed him into the salon, where lunch was set up. At first, I thought it was only for one, but the prince sliced off food for me and presented me with a plate and fork. We ate in silence as Prince Aaron studied me intently and I tried, just as intently, not to notice. When we finished and the dishes were taken away, he spoke again, "Ella, I find I am tired. Come and read to me. Pull a chair up next to the bed. Select any book you like."
I picked a book, and pulling up a chair as ordered, I began to read. The prince lay with his eyes clothes, and presently I could tell he had fallen asleep. I studied him then, his high forehead and sharp jaw, his aquiline nose and jet-black hair. He rode often to horses and his body was long and lean, his muscles clearly well-developed beneath his clothing. When he stirred, I began reading again as if I had never left off.
The next day went on much as the one before it, until it came time for lunch. Unlike the previous day's meal, there was no extra plate and no extra fork. Perhaps I was meant to go without food, I thought, or eat in the dining hall as I had done before. "Join me, Ella," I heard the prince order. I noticed my chair was pulled much closer to his than the day before and I sat, waiting. The prince cut into the food, asking, "Are you hungry, Ella?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Then you will let me feed you."
I did not know what to make of this order, but I had already confessed my hunger. He stretched out the fork to me, watching my face as he fed me each bite. I flushed, feeling again that sensation I had had right before he had tried to kiss me, that their simply wasn't any air in the room to breathe. And, inexplicably, I felt the place between my legs grow warm, as my body did when his eyes rested upon me.
When the meal was over, he dismissed me. "Thank you, Ella. You may return to Mrs. Swigg." No explanation of why he didn't want me. Had I done something to anger him? Was my company no longer desired? I hurried out of the room and down the stairs, finding Mrs. Swigg supervising in the kitchen.
"There you are, Ella. Finished with the silver then? Good, I need some more busy hands to help prepare the mulled wine for the Ball. The guests will be arriving chilled from their travels."
It was good to be back at work with the other girls, slicing fruits and grinding spices, stirring great vats of wine as it cooked down. And yet I felt something missing. Here, I was just another girl wearing an identical uniform, not someone anyone looked upon as anything anyone, the way the prince looked at me. I told myself not to think such things. I wanted to return home in freedom, not to become entangled in palace life.
I worked again the next morning in the kitchen before I was summoned again to the prince just before lunch. I rushed as I brushed my hair, making my long blonde tresses shine before tying them back again in a ponytail. Nodding to the guard, I knocked on the door and was given permission to enter.
"Ah, Ella, I'm just starting lunch, please join me," the prince called to me. I hurried in and sat down, noticing that my chair was again pulled close to his and there was no plate or fork for me. He held a grape. "Care for one, Ella?" he asked. I nodded, expecting him to invite me to take one. "Open your mouth, then." What could this mean? I opened my mouth and he fed me by hand, as one would a baby, or a pet. When his thumb brushed my lip, the touch burned me like fire. Bite by bite he fed me by hand, my body reacting to each inadvertent touch. I felt my nipples harden and knew they were visible through my blouse, no matter how high I had tied the neck. My loins grew wet and I pressed my thighs tight together, willing the prince not to notice my arousal. He pushed back from the table. "I have some things to take care of. Wait for me here. Today you are my guest, and not my servant. Simply make yourself comfortable until I return." He strode from the room.
I tried to keep myself busy, reading and doing fancywork, but the hours dragged by and the prince had not returned. His chambers were a state. Why was Mr. Thomas not arranging for them to be cleaned? Perhaps everyone was too busy with the ball, I thought. There was nothing to clean with, but I could at least straighten, I thought. I returned the books strewn about to their bookcases and placed the lunch dishes in the hallway to be taken away. In the bed chamber, I placed dirty clothes in the laundry hamper and hung up a jacket that dangled off the back of the chair. I had just finished making the bed when I heard the door open. "Good evening, Prince. . ." I began, but he cut me off, his voice hard and angry.
"I gave you a simple order. You are my guest, and not my servant," he said, repeating his earlier instructions. "Was that somehow too difficult for you to understand, Ella?"
"No Sire, I just thought. . ."
He cut me off again. "I didn't ask you to think, I asked you to follow instructions." He grabbed me hard around the wrist. "Don't bother calling for the guard. Believe me, I have no intention of kissing you." He pushed me to the desk. "Put your hands on the table and bend over." He had come in from riding horses and he held a crop in his hand. My eyes watered as I thought of what was to come. He flipped up the skirt of my uniform, exposing my underpants. Whack, whack, whack, the riding crop stung across my buttocks and legs.
"I'm so sorry, Sire, I'm so sorry!" I cried. "I only meant to make you more comfortable." The crop burned with each stripe across by tender backside and soft creamy legs. And then he stopped. I collapsed crying on the floor as he strode from the room, slamming the door behind me.
I felt the heat and the sting as I lay there crying. I truly had only meant to make him happy, and now he hated me. When I felt strong enough, I went into the washroom and splashed cold water on my tear-swollen face and straightened my clothing, but when I tried to leave, the guard blocked me. "The prince says you are ordered to stay here until his return." Gingerly, I closed the door and went back into Prince Aaron's rooms.
He did not return all that night. I curled up on a sofa in the salon, trying to find a comfortable position between the hard cushions and the lingering pain from the whipping. Finally, I fell asleep. When I awoke, Prince Aaron was sitting in the chair watching me. A blanket I had not had the night before was draped over me. When I opened my eyes, he spoke. "Shall we begin again, then? The Valentine's Day Ball is in four days. In five days, I will be engaged and you will be done with your corvée. Until then can you follow my instructions? You may find some of them uncomfortable, but I promise you will remain in your virginal state throughout."
"Yes, Sire. I am sorry for displeasing you. I will not do so again."
"Very good. Go downstairs and get cleaned up and changed, then return immediately."
I scurried out the door, unblocked by the guard, and was back before the half-hour was out.
"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.
