Princess Hyacinthe Gloriana Astronomica, belovedly known to all as Glori, was getting married.

“Only seven days hence,” she murmured now, studying her reflection in the tall mirror, turning her face from side to side so as to capture this last memory of herself as a maiden, untouched.

In one short week, she’d be wedded and bedded, beginning her new life in a new land. Her stomach tumbled at the thought of it, and her face heated as a flush rose up her long, smooth throat to paint her tawny cheeks. An answering heat pooled low in her belly, lower still, between her plump thighs. She shifted her stance, feeling the rub of silken undergarments against her most intimate places.

She had not even yet met her prince.

Their marriage had been arranged by his father, King of Silveran, and her mother, Queen of Portifara, for the sake of tradition and keeping the peace that had been somewhat unstable between their two lands for as long as they’d been in existence. Her mother had been Silvaranese before wedding Glori’s father, and her future husband’s father had been Portifarian. It was the way the world had been, at least this part of it, for centuries.

Now it was Glori’s turn to leave the land of her birth and take on the mantle of a new country. To birth children who might then be sent off to wed in her home country. Well, she thought, there would be no children without a wedding night, at first…and a shudder rippled through her as she tried to imagine what that meant.

She drew in a breath and turned to face the room, the enormous bed that took up most of the space, and finally, at last, her retinue of attendants. All stared at her attentively, waiting her command, but she had none, really.

Oh, she could order them about to bring her food and wine, or to help her dress, undress, to bathe, to paint her face. To bring her amusements in the form of an easel, or books to read, or her embroidery, or her bow and arrow. But for this week, her bridal studies week…

The tallest of the seven stepped forward, ducking her head politely. Glori had not yet learned any of their names. This one wore her yellow hair cropped short and spiked, feathery waves framing her face. Her skin, golden and gleaming, bore no traces of cosmetic aside from the twin crimson circles of her nipples, clearly visible through her sheer gown, a twin to Glori’s own garment.

“If it pleases you, Your Highness, we are ready to begin your preparations whenever you are. I am Bellina, by the way. Your First, and honored to be so.” Bellina gestured at her associates. “Followed by Serinissa, Chalerian, Verlettina, Hemma, Jeroma, and Plentillina.”

The others stepped forward to bow or curtsey as their names were called. All wore similar sheer garments, gowns or blouses and trousers, revealing firm bodies beneath. Crimson rouged nipples, glints of body jewelry and piercings, sleek patches of hair, bare skin. A shiver tickled up and down Glori’s spine at the thought of those bodies touching hers, and of her body touching theirs. Her fingers curled into a fist against her palm, and she lifted her chin to meet Bellina’s gaze straight-on without flinching. Glori was a princess, by the stars, and she would conduct herself as one.

“I’m ready,” she said. “Let us begin.”

Bellina grinned and ducked her head again, but her voice was eager when she replied, “It is my honor to instruct you. Is there anything you need before we start? Water? Wine? Perhaps some herb? Some find a bowl of smoke helps — ”

“No,” Glori interrupted. “Thank you. I’d prefer not to rely on intoxicants to relax me.”

Bellina nodded. “Very well. If you’d care to take your place on the bed…?”

Drawing in a breath, Glori did so. She settled herself onto the pile of soft pillows and lay back. The attendants gathered around, quietly. Respectfully.

Bellina sat on the bed next to Glori and placed a warm hand on the princess’s belly. Glori tensed, but Bellina merely rested her palm there. Glori looked at her.

“We shall begin with a kiss,” Bellina said.

Her mouth was soft, warm, inviting. Glori accepted the pressure of it against her own. She felt the curve of Bellina’s smile and could not stop herself from letting out a nervous giggle. Bellina brushed her lips against Glori’s and sat back.

“Your pardon,” Glori said.

Bellina shook her head. “Never a need for that, Highness. This instruction is all for your sake. I personally feel that lovemaking without laughter is not lovemaking at all.”

“Kiss me again.”

Bellina did, more firmly this time. Glori’s lips parted, seemingly of their own accord, for she had not imagined how sweet it would be to feel the pressure of another mouth on hers. When the warm, wet length of Bellina’s tongue slipped into her mouth, Glori gasped and drew back. She covered her mouth with a delicate hand.

“Is that…normal?” she asked.

“It is common,” Bellina said.

“My husband will expect it?”

Bellina tilted her head to study Glori quietly for the span of a few breaths before nodding. “It is not my place to share the prince’s predilections, but I would suspect so. Tongue kissing is a delight many enjoy.”

Glori knew the prince was undergoing his own week of studies and instruction to prepare him as she was being prepared. Beyond that, she had no clue. Silveranese and Portifarian royals were taught basic anatomy and of the workings of how children were created and grown, how they were birthed, but of the act that created them, nothing was said until such time as they were wed. It was a long-standing tradition that for Glori, at least, had not been broken.

“Do it again,” she commanded, already opening her mouth for the slide of Bellina’s tongue.

The kiss deepened. Bellina slid her hand beneath Glori’s head to cradle her at the back of her neck. This arched Glori a bit upward, her mouth open, tongue seeking the heat of Bellina’s open mouth. It felt…soft, and warm, and it sent ripples of similar feeling all through Glori’s body until she shuddered and shivered and let out a long, low moan that surprised her into breaking the kiss.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

Glori cupped her breasts. Her nipples had become tight, hard points, thrusting through the sheer fabric of her gown. She shifted her thighs, noting the pressure caused another ripple of sensation to rise inside her. She giggled again, softer, this time.

Bellina kissed her again. This time, the servant cupped Glori’s breast and ran her thumb over the nipple. She pinched it gently between her thumb and forefinger. Glori cried out, writhing a little, but Bellina did not cease kissing or pinching.

The servant’s hand moved from one nipple to the other, tweaking. Stroking. Pinching gently. Tugging in tandem with the stroke of her tongue. She moved her mouth along Glori’s jaw, along her throat and over the first mounds of her breasts. Her kiss wet the fabric. When Bellina closed her lips around one of Glori’s nipples, Glori bucked and cried out hoarsely, but without words.

Bellina moved over Glori’s body with her hands, up and down, cupping her breasts and moving them together as she suckled one nipple, then the other, the barrier of the sheer gown blunting the sensation but still allowing the pleasure of it. Bellina’s hands moved lower, stroking. Glori’s thighs, her belly, her breasts, hips, up and down, over and over, but never touching her between her legs, where the rising heat was making her lift her hips in a silent plea for…what, exactly, she wasn’t sure.

Her head fell back. It seemed impossible to keep her eyes open. She heard her own breath, fierce and rasping in her ears. The soft huff of Bellina’s breath gusted over her face as the servant kissed her mouth again. Then moved that kiss lower once more. Glori felt dream-like, floating. With her eyes closed, she could scarcely tell which was the kiss of Bellina’s lips and which the touch of her fingertips. The sensation rose inside her, filling her, and all she could think about was being stripped naked of the gown, of being touched, of yearning, a growing ache between her thighs.

She wanted to be touched. She needed it. She could not articulate this need with words and could only moan and gasp and writhe. She opened her legs, instinctively, uncertain what any of this would lead to but incapable of stopping herself.

Bellina kissed her lips again. Glori moaned into Bellina’s mouth. Bellina’s hand moved between Glori’s legs, at last, at last, and her fingers stroked over the sheer fabric of her gown, and Glori cried out and shook, her fingers bunching the sheets she gripped. She could not be sure what was happening, only that it was pleasure. Pure pleasure.

“Open your eyes,” Bellina urged.

Glori did.

“Look. Watch,” Bellina whispered.

Glori managed to focus her gaze on her own body as Bellina slipped her fingers once more between Glori’s parted thighs. The sheer gown had gone translucent with wetness there, and for a moment, she was startled.

“Shh,” Bellina soothed. “It happens when you are experiencing pleasure. Now, watch. Feel.”

Slowly, Bellina inched up the hem of Glori’s gown to expose her flesh. The tight black curls between Glori’s thighs glistened, and as she shifted, looking down at herself, she saw a glimpse of pinkish-brown flesh lighter than the color of the rest of her skin.

“This is the point of your pleasure,” Bellina said as she hovered her hand over Glori’s juncture.

Slowly, slowly, she stroked a fingertip over the tight bud of flesh peeping out of Glori’s dark curls. Once. Twice. And on the third time, Glori could no longer hold back. The sensations that had been rising inside her exploded.

Her back arched, legs opening wide as her entire body shook. It felt like the rush of an ocean wave overtaking her, tumbling her head over heels. Sweeping her away.

Pleasure was not a strong enough word to describe it. Pure ecstasy tore through her, making her convulse. The soft place between her legs — her cunny, she thought wildly, tossing her head, crying out, oh, it was her cunny, the spot she’d never paid much attention to before, it throbbed and swelled and bore down on emptiness that left an ache behind, desperate to be filled with what, she did not know.

Panting, Glori fell back against the pillows. She could not keep her eyes open. She felt Bellina pull her gown back down over her thighs, but couldn’t even protest. She was limp. Incapable of moving.

“Is that…lovemaking…” she managed to mumble.

Bellina laughed gently and pressed a light kiss to her lips. “There’s so, so much more. This is just the beginning.”

***

Last night’s first lesson had lingered in her mind all day, which had been spent going over the intricacies of the rules and policies and traditions she would be expected to follow as future Queen of Portifara. By the time she’d finished her evening’s repast and been bathed by her attendants, all Glori could think about was getting into bed, mostly for sleep, but nevertheless she knew there would be no rest until she’d had her second lesson. One new experience a night.

“What will be left for my wedding night?” she asked as she sat in front of her vanity, watching as Serinissa drew a brush through Glori’s black curls, softening them into a puff that would be covered with a silken cap for sleep.

“Highness, there is so much variety in the way bodies can join, no matter what you learn during this sennight, you’ll find infinite new ways of pleasure with your husband,” the servant told her. She placed her hands on Glori’s shoulders and looked at her reflection with a smile. “There. When you’re ready…?”

Glori shivered with anticipation. Heat already pooled low in her belly. “I’m ready.”

Again, the attendants gathered around the bed to murmur their encouragement, although this time it was Serinissa who joined her. A small flutter of nervousness tangled in Glori’s chest. She’d grown accustomed to Bellina.

“What will I learn tonight?” she asked somewhat plaintively.

Serinissa smiled. “Let me show you.”

They began with kissing. Glori relaxed into it. Serinissa tasted different than Bellina, but still delicious. She opened her mouth for the stroke of the other woman’s tongue. Serinissa cupped Glori’s breast. Tweaked her nipple. Her touch was harder than Bellina’s had been, but Glori arched into it, eager for the intense pleasure she remembered from last night.

When Serinissa urged her with her hands to sit, Glori complied with a frown, uncertain what the servant meant for her to do. When Serinissa pulled Glori’s gown off over her head, Glori gasped and covered her bare skin with her hands. Only at first, though, and with a nervous giggle.

“You surprised me,” she said.

Serinissa smiled and pulled of her own gown to reveal a smooth, creamy body, her nipples painted crimson. The thatch of hair between her legs was cropped close and matched the flame colored hair on her head. She aligned her body with Glori’s, notching her thigh between the princess’s.

They kissed. Kissed. Kissed. Serinissa’s hands roamed over Glori’s body, stroking and touching, never lingering too long in one place, until Glori gasped.

“I am on fire! I need…I need you to…” But she was not entirely certain what she did need Serinissa to do. Only that she wanted what Bellina had done for her the night before. She tugged Serinissa’s hand between her legs, only to have the other woman cover Glori’s hand with her own.

“Tonight we learn about self-pleasure. In part,” Serenissa amended. “If you don’t know how to pleasure yourself, you can’t tell your prince how to do it, can you?”

Glori licked her lips. “I suppose not.”

Serinissa circled their hands, hers guiding Glori’s in a slow but steady pattern. She curved Glori’s fingers so they settled directly only that tight knot of flesh that Bellina had stroked the night before.

“Like this?” Serinissa asked. “You must tell me.”

“Oh, yes, that’s lovely…” Glori sighed.

She blinked at the sight of the other attendants moving their hands between their own legs. Sighs and murmurs surrounded her. She tensed and stopped moving her hand.

“We’re all joining you so you can see other techniques,” explained Serinissa gently. Her other hand moved between her own thighs. “Watch us. Learn yourself.”

Glori tentatively slid her hand back between her legs. Her fingertip parted her curls and found that sensitive spot again. With the others murmuring their encouragement, she once more began circling her… “What is this place called? I know it is part of my cunny.”

“Your clit,” instructed Serinissa. “Your bud, your pearl. Ahh…yes, like that, touch yourself, Highness. Feel the pleasure rising?”

“Yes,” Glori murmured in a rasping voice gone thick with the pleasure.

All around her, the seven servants were touching their own bodies. Some cupped their breasts, pinching the nipples upright. Some had both hands between their legs, fingers rubbing their own pearls and others…oh, that looked interesting.

Glori slid two fingers of the hand not rubbing her clit inside herself. A shocking ripple of pleasure arched her back as she cried out hoarsely. She moved her fingers in and out, slowly, feeling her slick warmth.

“That’s it. Fuck yourself. Rub your clit. Find what feels good for you,” Serinissa urged, her own voice shaking as she rubbed at herself.

Chalerian, who had the same yellow hair as Bellina but worn in tight corkscrew curls tied up on top of her head, pulled one of the many pillows toward her. She folded it in half and, naked, climbed astride. She rocked her body back and forth, leaning forward so her heavy breasts hung down. She rode the pillow much the way she would have ridden a pony, her hips rolling. She sat upright, hips moving, then bent forward again with a low series of cries. She twisted her face toward Glori so the princess could clearly see the ecstasy on the servant’s face. Eyes closed, mouth open, her tongue sliding across her lips.

A feeling of urgency filled Glori as she moved her hands faster, faster, following some instinct she’d never before known. She wanted to be filled there, below, she wanted to be rubbed and…she wanted to…hump, yes, like Chalerian was doing.

She rolled over and found her own pillow. She climbed on. Her body moved of its own accord, hips rocking. Each push rubbed her clit against the soft fabric, teasing and tantalizing. Bent over this way, she could feel her bottom on full display, and more heat rushed through her. She imagined the sight of herself as she saw Chalerian’s rosy bottom cheeks rising and falling as the servant ground her pelvis against the pillow.

Every now and then, Glori could see a glimpse of the sweet, pink hole between Chalerian’s bottom cheeks. She thought of her own, so exposed, of the others seeing it as she saw Chalerian’s. This idea, of exposing her most intimate and private of places, to the inspection of others, so aroused her that very hole pulsed and winked. More pleasure suffused her.

She began shaking as she humped faster against the pillow. All around her came the rising cries of feminine ecstasy, as they all surged toward their common goal. Between Glori’s legs, the pillow rubbed, rubbed, and she thrust against it harder, each thrust sending her arse higher and higher. She imagined her prince watching her pleasure herself in this fashion, imagined him becoming aroused by the sight of her tight, beckoning hole…and there her thoughts left her because she was overcome with a pleasure so strong she could think of nothing more except fulfilling its promise.

A scream tore from her throat as she thrust once more. Her entire body convulsed. Her cunny bore down as it had the night before, but this time, Glori also felt that same contracting, pulsing throb in her bottom hole. Her clit pulsed. Ecstasy flooded her, wiping away any possible thought other than writhing, thrusting, grinding.

“I’m coming!” Chalerian cried.

Others echoed her. Glori couldn’t form words, and wasn’t sure what it meant, anyway, to come, only that her body was overwhelmed with desire. She was coming, too. Coming and coming.

She fell onto her back, the pillow still pressed between her thighs. Panting, she tried to find her breath. She was aware that all around her, more feminine cries were being uttered. She opened her eyes, watching as Bellina’s entire body shuddered. The servant had been sitting on the bed, one hand spreading her cunny wide while she slapped and spanked her clit. The others all had their methods, too, and one by one, they all tipped over into their individual ecstasies.

To Glori’s fascination and surprise, her own cunny clutched and throbbed, despite having already achieved its peak. She slipped her fingers down there again, finding her body slick and wet, slippery with her juices. She rubbed and rubbed the small bead, tweaking it between her fingertips as she watched one of the servants rapidly fucking three fingers into front hole while her other hand probed at her bottom hole. It was Verlettina, and she shouted hoarsely as she manipulated herself with both hands. Her body convulsed, shaking.

Glori’s clit swelled under her touch. This second surge of pleasure pushed a grunt out of her, and she fell back again against the pillows as the climax took over. Slowly, she became aware of silence, broken only by muffled sighs and giggles.

She dared to look. Her servants, to a one, were all panting. Replete. Serinissa smiled at her.

“Well done, Highness. You’ve found one way to pleasure yourself!”

Glori swallowed. “But how shall that please my prince? It was so…solitary.”

“That,” Serinissa told her with a grin, “is a lesson for another night.”

***

Tonight, Verlettina was in charge of the lesson. A tall, broad-shouldered woman with long brown hair, she gave off an air of authority that Glori admired. She also had a kind smile.

“Highness, you’ve learned how to pleasure yourself, but you asked how doing it using your pillow could please your prince. Tonight, I’ll show you.”

Glori nodded, eager for the lesson.

“First, off with your gown,” Verlettina said with a clap of her hands.

Under any other circumstance, Glori would have been irritated with the servant’s assumption that she, the princess, would leap to follow someone else’s command. So eager was she to learn, however, that she stripped off her gown at once and stood naked in front of Verlettina.

“You asked yestereve how learning to pleasure yourself in the manner preferred by Chalerian,” here Verlettina gave her servant companion a knowing smile, “would assist in your pleasure with the prince. I’m going to show you. If it pleases you, Highness, would you recline on the bed?”

Happily, her body already awakening in all its most tender and intimate places, Glori did as requested. She was amazed at how quickly arousal bloomed inside her from no more than a simple action. When she described that surprise, Verlettina smiled and nodded.

“Desire is a hunger, like that for food. No matter how many times you sate your stomach, it eventually yearns to be filled again, does it not? Your cunny is the same way,” said the servant knowingly. “And now, your body is awakened.”

“Shall I hunger this way always?” Glori asked with a small frown of concern. “I daresay it shall make it ever so difficult to concentrate.”

Verlettina shook her head as she climbed onto the bed next to the princess. “Desire waxes and wanes, but we are here to help you learn to sate it. When you master your pleasure, Highness, you’ll find you can focus on whatever is necessary. And the more pleasure you and your prince share, the more harmonious your marriage.”

“Even if he infuriates you enough to scream,” said Bellina with a chuckle, “when you come together in the bed, it makes the rest of it all bearable.”

This made sense to Glori, who sighed as Verlettina kissed her. The taller woman settled herself alongside the princess, one thick thigh pressed between Glori’s. She pushed it upward, rocking it against the princess’s cunny and clit.

“Think of how you pleasured yourself on your pillow,” murmured Verlettina. “Use my thigh the same as that.”

At first, Glori felt a little awkward, but soon she lost herself in the press and release of flesh upon flesh. Verlettina shifted their bodies so that their pearls were touching, their soft and slick nether lips as well. The sensation was strange, but arousing. She murmured.

Verlettina rocked her hips. The motion slid her cunny along Glori’s. The princess could not stop herself from moving in the same way. The pair of them were positioned much the way a tailor’s instrument would move along a bolt of fabric, their legs moving and their bodies shifting with each press and pull.

“Ride my cunny the way you rode your pillow,” Verlettina muttered huskily. “You will ride your prince in the same way.”

Glori blinked, her body ceasing its motion for a moment. She understood that the male anatomy was different. “But how —”

“A lesson —”

“For another night,” she finished with a breathless laugh.

The princess and the servant ground their bodies together. The pleasure was different, Glori thought as she focused on what was happening between her legs. In some ways more intense than using the pillow, which had provided a more diffuse sensation. Flesh on flesh was even better!

“You’re so wet,” Verlettina muttered. “Good, that’s good.”

The others had all taken their positions around them on the bed. Some used hands and fingers. Two others had joined the way Glori was with her attendant. Two were using implements Glori could not quite see, and although her curiosity was piqued, she was too full of her growing desire to focus on anything but this.

Faster they moved, faster and faster. Moved by an impulse she couldn’t name, Glori moved to press Verlettina onto her back. She spread the other woman’s legs wide, exposing her entire cunny, her arsehole, the thick, swollen knot of her clit. Glori positioned herself, one leg thrown over the servant’s belly, the other on the other side of Verlettina’s leg. Glori ground her body down, rubbing and rubbing. Her cunny felt swollen, her clit even more so, and if she dipped her head she could clearly see the slickness of her juices mingling with Verlettina’s.

The servant’s clit was much bigger than Glori’s. It thrust upward at a jaunty angle, much darker in color than the rest of Verlettina’s cunny. Glori pressed her pearl to it, rolling her hips and sending a shudder through her body. She met Verlettina’s eyes. Their gazes locked, Glori let her body do whatever it wanted to.

She cried out, over and over, “ah, ah, ah,” and yearned to scream, to growl, to cry out her pleasure like an animal. She thrust her hips, each pass back and forth rubbing her swollen flesh against the other woman’s. Her arsehole contracted, released, tensed again. Her nipples felt hard enough to tear through fabric.

Glori lost herself in this, the rise of desire, the swell of her power inside her, ready to explode forth. A lighting bold. A crack of thunder. She had never felt stronger than this moment, when she fucked against this soft, slick flesh, when she knew she was making Verlettina’s body react the same as her own was doing.

She slowed, rotating her hips, lifting herself so that her clit barely brushed Verlettina’s upright button. The other woman groaned out a protest, but with a laugh as she tossed her head back and forth.

“Yes, Highness, tease me, tease me…”

Glori slowed further, watching the red flush creep up Verlettina’s chest and throat to mottle her with pink and crimson flecks. Fascinated, she drew back a little more and saw the servant’s clit contract. Her cunny lips were open, glistening, her pink hole between them gaping wide. The inner walls shuddered and shivered. A little lower, the dusky brown rose of her arsehole puckered, release, tensed again, while Verlettina writhed and cried out, begging. Pleading for release.

The princess’s own body responded from watching the other woman respond in such a way, even though she was no longer touching Verlettina. With sudden desperation, Glori again rubbed their clits together. This final stroke of flesh on flesh was enough to tip her over into the abyss at last.

She screamed as the servant’s echoing cry matched hers. Both of them shuddered, clawing at the air, their bodies twisting and thrusting and humping. This pleasure was sharp, like a spear, and it pierced Glori to her core. She fell over onto the bed with the feelings continuing to sweep over her. Panting, shuddering, she thought of watching Bellina pleasure herself.

When Glori spanked her twitching clit another wash of ecstasy swept over her. She came again, crying out, rocking her hips. Surely this would be enough, surely she had no more left inside her, but the sound of feminine moans and cries tipped her once more into a third shaking climax that at last, left her spent.

“There can be no more than this,” she murmured finally, when some long minutes had passed in silence.

Sweet laughter burbled all around her. She sat up, smiling, joining in. Verlettina shook her head.

“Sweet Princess, you’ve only just begun.”

“That is exactly what I was hoping you would say,” Glori said, and the lot of them erupted into joyous laughter she would hold close to her for all her years.

***

Hemma, a round-bottomed and big-hipped woman with sheaves of silvery hair, entered the princess’s chambers a little later than the others. She’d been preparing the bath chamber, where tonight’s lesson would take place. Although Glori had of course been bathed this morn, and then again after her afternoon of daily instruction in other matters, but it had been determined she was due for another bath.

“For the pleasure of it this time,” Hemma explained as Glori followed her servant into the bath chamber attached to her bedchamber. “There is utilitarian cleaning, and then there is decadence, Highness. You’ve been so hard at work all this sennight, surely you deserve a few moments luxury and leisure while we all attend you.”

“But…” Glori tried not to sound disappointed at the thought perhaps tonight would not end in with paroxysms of ecstasy.

“Never you fear, my princess, I shall be teaching how to explore yet a fresh method of pleasure. But first, the bath. Relax. Enjoy. Allow us to tend you.”

Given that promise, Glori was all too happy to have the servants help her into the steaming tub of water. To have them bathe her with scented soap and oils. To have them all run their hands up and down her body, caressing. Lingering. Tickling, at times, but also stroking. Arousing.

She was limp with desire by the time Hemma determined she should be helped out of the cooling water. Dried off with soft cloths. Smoothed with more scented oils. Her hair brushed and braided. By the time they were finished with all that, Glori felt boneless, weak. Pampered, too, of course.

Hemma did not lead her to the bed, however. Instead, she seated the princess in one of the soft, upholstered chairs in the room. When Glori made a longing noise and looked toward the bed, Hemma shook her head.

“Here,” she said firmly. “Sit back, if you please, and open those pretty, plump thighs. Let Hemma see your lovely cunt.”

Glori did as Hemma had asked. All hints of sleepiness had been chased away with her expectance. She spread her legs and held her breath, unsure of what was meant to happen next.

Hemma knelt, her hands resting gently on the princess’s knees. She pressed them a little wider apart. She bent her face lower, lower, and before Glori knew quite what was happening, Hemma had pressed her lips to Glori’s clit. She suckled gently.

Glori bucked, crying out, trying to clamp her thighs closed, but Hemma held them open with a firm but gentle pressure. Her tongue flickered, quickly, then the flat of it rubbed and licked Glori’s clit. The princess moaned and her head fell back against the chair. She opened herself, helpless against this new route to pleasure.

Hemma laved Glori’s clit, over and over, keeping that steady pattern of licking until Glori could not stop herself from raising her hips to meet each press of the servant’s tongue. When she climaxed, she gripped the arms of the chair so hard she swore she heard the wood creak.

But Hemma did not cease. All the other times, there’d been some time between the glorious spasms of the princess’s body before she teased it again into another climax. This time, there was no cease in Hemma’s attendance. She licked, licked, licked, and then slipped one finger, two, a final third into Glori’s hot channel. She fucked her fingers in deep, then twisted her palm upward, curling her fingers. Fucking more. Harder. She took her mouth from Glori’s clit, and the princess protested with a grunt, but she was held in place by the servant’s internal, dancing touch.

“Oh, stop, you must stop,” Glori groaned as a new sensation rose inside her. Slightly uncomfortable, much the way it felt when she needed to use the chamber pot. “Oh, you must — ahh! Ah!”

Hemma did not stop. Her curling, thrusting fingers moved faster. Glori was so wet from her first climax that the servant’s fingers made wet noises as they fucked inside her. Glori gripped the chair’s arms, tossing her head. Her hips rose and fell. Her body bucked, out of control.

She needed Hemma to stop, but she could not, would not bear it if she did. Glori was bound to this spot. Her belly muscles clenched. Her clit throbbed, pulsing, but the center of this new pleasure was not in that tender little pearl, but someplace inside. A swelling pressed inside her, pushing against the teasing of Hemma’s fingers, which now passed and stroked, stroked and pressed, urging that small swelling inside of Glori’s cunny to grow and grow.

Glori slid a bit down in the chair, hooking her knees on the chair arms. She was spread so wide she thought she might split in half. Her arsehole was gusted with cool air, and it pulsed. Her cunny clenched down on Hemma’s fingers. The moist sounds of the servant’s thrusting became faster, sloppier, and slickness flowed down Glori’s thighs.

Time froze at a sudden rush of sensation unlike any she had ever felt. A burning flow of heat tore through her, top-to-toe. Her cunny clutched at Hemma’s fingers again, bearing down as the servant pressed upward.

Glori shrieked

Pleasure tore her wide open.

A gush of golden fluid arced from her cunny, coating Hemma’s hand. Splashing the floor. Ecstasy so fierce it nearly made Glori faint filled her as her another jet of fluid shot out of her. Another. Another. Each sent an even stronger bolt of climax through her, until at last, all Glori could see or hear or feel was her own animalistic grunts, her own body convulsing.

When she came to, she was wrapped in a soft blanket on the bed. She barely recalled her attendants cleaning her after her climax, helping her to the bed, bundling her up. She snuggled into the warmth and yawned. Unlike the other times, her cunny felt stretched and a little sore. For the first time, she thought she might understand how one could be so sated by pleasure that it could be possible to have no more desire left.

“We’ll see how you feel tomorrow,” Hemma whispered in response to this sleepy admission. “You have two more lessons left.”

***

The soreness did not abate immediately once the morn had arrived, but Glori found it a most delightful reminder of the previous night’s activities and therefore, did not mind it. When her court advisor asked what was making her smile so wickedly, Glori felt caught out. She could not admit she was thinking of what joys awaited her that evening!

The court advisor, though, a staid gentlewoman a few years older than Glori’s mother, only smiled and patted the princess’s hand before moving on to the next subject.

That night, Glori entered her bedchamber eagerly. She was bathed, but quickly this time, even though they’d offered her another luxurious bath. She was too eager! If there’d been anything she’d learned about this sennight’s lessons, it was that each night was better than the last.

When she got into bed, surrounded by her adoring attendants, Glori was surprised to see Jeroma there, holding a contraption of leather and metal, much like the harness for a horse. “What is that?”

“It is how I shall wear my phallus to penetrate you,” Jeroma explained. “As I have no natural one of my own, as your prince husband does.”

Glori drew in a shaking breath. The reason these bridal lessons were provided by female attendants even when the future spouse was a man was two-fold and also simple — there was no risk of pregnancy, and aside from that, no matter what the servants had taught her, the wedding night would still be a first experience for her. Although nobody had ever told her so, Glori suspected the prince, for his part, was having much the same treatment — lessons in lovemaking from his cadre of male servants who would be doing their best to prepare him for marriage.

“How does it work?” Glori asked.

Jeroma demonstrated by slipping the harness over her hips and around her thighs. She tightened the buckles, then took the length of carved and polished wood and affixed it in front of her, where it jutted so merrily that Glori could not help but laugh.

The servant joined her. “You would do well not to show such amusement when your prince husband disrobes in front of you the first time, Highness.”

“I plead your pardon,” Glori said, “but…it looks…will his look so ridiculous?”

“It is likely to be so,” Jeroma said, “but you shall be likely to find it charming and a delight, as well.”

Bellina handed Jeroma a small vial of what turned out to be a thick, creamy paste she used to coat the phallus. Glori watched, intrigued. She knew the phallus was meant to enter her cunny.

“But I am so wet already,” she said.

Jeroma smiled. “We want to make sure there is no discomfort, Princess.”

There would first be kissing and touching and stroking, she explained. There might even be a climax or two or more, before penetration. But on their first night together, it was also quite likely their eagerness to join would mean it would happen without as much play beforehand, hence this lesson was to mimic what might happen.

Glori understood. Before this sennight, she would never have, as she had not known a single thing about the ways a married couple joined. She appreciated the lessons and was eager to learn even more — especially knowing now, as she did, that no matter what else lay in store for her, there would be ever so much more for her to experience.

“You can ride a phallus, the way you rode your pillow,” Jeroma said now, “but for this first time, I’ll mount you as you are on your back.”

The princess sighed, her body already softening, warming, opening. She lay back, spreading herself wide with the fingers of one hand. Jeroma’s appreciative gaze sent flames licking through her, and she imagined her prince husband studying her with the same intensity. More arousal rose inside her, so that when Jeroma probed the entrance of the princess’s eager cunny, the servant found no resistance.

Slowly, she eased inside, pausing at any hint that Glori might be in discomfort. There was none, only a beautiful feeling of being stretched and filled — exactly what her empty, aching cunny had been longing for! Glori cried out her pleasure as Jeroma seated herself fully inside.

When the servant began moving, thrusting gently, rolling her hips so that her pelvis pressed Glori’s, the princess could do nothing but moan and lift her own hips in response. It was truly overwhelming, such ecstasy. Her head tossed back and forth as she gripped Jeroma’s hips to urge the servant to a faster pace.

Jeroma fucked a little harder, a little deeper, a moan slipping from her throat as she did. The princess and the servant moved together in perfect unison. Glori wrapped her legs around Jeroma’s thighs, crying out, clutching at the sheets at her sides.

“I want,” she gasped out, “I want to ride you!”

Together, they rolled. Jeroma’s phallus slipped free but only for a moment before Glori had mounted her, filling her aching, greedy cunt with the entire length. Sitting upright, she cupped her breasts, pinching the nipples into tight peaks as she ground herself onto Jeroma’s wooden prick.

Soon enough, Glori was the one in control of this act — she ground, she rode, she thrust. Her breasts bounced higher as she moved faster and faster. The wet slap of their bodies aroused her even more, until she could do nothing but make cry after cry as she came. At the last immense pulse of pleasure, she screamed and collapsed, the phallus still deep inside her.

Surely there could be no more than this!

And yet, her body told her she was not yet finished. She needed…she craved…something. To her relief and delight, her attendants all fell upon her, kissing and stroking and licking and suckling. A mouth found her clit. Another, her nipples. Jeroma took the phallus from its harness and slipped it inside the princess again, only this time in her bottom hole. Coated as it was in the thick cream and Glori’s own fluids, the wooden instrument slid inside her without resistance.

At its intrusion, Glori screamed louder than she ever had. Climax ripped through her, tossing her on the bed as she writhed. She could not bear it! She was going to die from it!

And yet…she did not die, she merely rode the tremors of desire until they faded. She made a murmur of protest when Jeroma slipped the phallus out of her, but the princess was incapable of doing more than that.

“That has been my favorite lesson thus far,” she said as she drifted toward sleep. “I cannot wait to see what the final night brings.”

***

At last, there was but one more night of instruction before she would spend the final few nights in deliberate abstinence before her wedding and the accompanying wedding night.

“It’s to build up your appetite,” Plentillina explained.

Glori nodded. “Of course. The first time I am joined with my husband should be full of excitement. Although how he will match all that you’ve shown me, I cannot begin to believe. I am hopeful, of course!”

“Of course,” Plentillina agreed with a smile. “And if his instruction has been as well-learned as yours has been, I have no doubts the pair of you will please each other very well.”

“I’ve had both my holes thoroughly pleasured, what else could there be?”

The servant gave her a grin while the others all tittered, as well. Plentillina handed Glori the harness and phallus. Glori took it, brow furrowed.

“There is one last act we’ll introduce. One you might find surprising,” she said. “But your prince husband might request it of you.”

Glori’s servants helped fit her into the harness. She took the phallus in her fist, hefting the weight of it before they fit it into the buckles. She shook her head with a small laugh at how it looked thrusting up away from her.

“It will be a bit different on him than on me,” Plentillina instructed, “but the general idea will be the same. You recall Hemma’s lesson? How she stroked you internally until you jetted?”

“Of course.”

Plentillina nodded. “It will be similar with your prince husband, although your fingers will be inserted into his anus, where his pleasure spot rests. The phallus can do much the same work. Shall we try it so you get the feeling for how it handles?”

Glori gave the wooden prick a dubious glance. “I can’t feel it. How will this pleasure me?”

“Pleasing someone else can sometimes be as much of delight as being pleasured, and also,” here Plentillina grinned, “you might find the pressure of the phallus’s base will give you what you need.”

In some short moments, Glori discovered this to be true. Remembering how Jeroma had mounted her the night before, she positioned herself between Plentillina’s thighs. Guiding the phallus with one hand, she pushed it into the servant’s gaping, eager entrance. Plentillina gasped out a cry of pleasure when Glori fully seated herself, and the sound peaked the princesse’s nipples into tight, hard points.

“I understand what you meant,” she said in a low voice.

She began thrusting, slowly and hesitantly at first. Then faster. Harder. Plentillina rubbed at her own clit with her fingertips in time with the thrusts, and as her cries of pleasure grew louder, Glori’s own arousal grew. With every thrust, her clit rubbed the base of the phallus and, as predicted, her own pleasure soared.

Her climax was mild, ripples rather than a roar, but nevertheless it made her entire body shudder. She kept thrusting, slower, slower, watching carefully as Plentillina responded by writhing and moaning. It was Gloria’s first real experience with being the provider of pleasure, not only the recipient, and she was fascinated with how delightful it made her own pleasure feel. Different. Better.

Plentillina cried out, arching, shuddering and fell back, breathing hard. She had climaxed. Glori eased her thrusts. Pulled out.

“I want to do more,” she commanded. “Who would like to ride my cock?”

She didn’t know where the words had come from, but saying them aloud surged a power through her that fanned the flames of her arousal to a new height.

Bellina eagerly moved in front of her, on her hands and knees, offering her slick channel. Glori knelt behind her, pressing the cock in slowly while Bellina grunted her delight. When the servant squealed and leaped, Glori began to thrust. Desire rose inside her with every in and out. She fucked harder, gripping Bellina’s hips. The servant caterwauled, pushing back to get as much of the wooden cock inside her as she could.

“More!” Glori cried out.

All of them moved together. Fucking. Thrusting. She dipped her cock into each of them, bringing each to her climax before finally, at last, Plentillina offered her own bottom hole, and Glori took it.

Fucking the servant’s tight hole, Glori at last felt the final rise of climax building up inside her. She was behind Plentillina, who was on her hands and knees. Glori spread her bottom cheeks so she could watch as she filled that dusky hole, clutching around her wooden prick. The sight of it made her almost come, but it was the thought that she might do this, one day soon, to her prince husband that really sent her over the edge. Thinking of having him on his knees this way, taking her in so deep while he cried out and jerked with climax forced Glori to spill into a garbed shriek of ecstasy as she came.

Panting, sweating, her face split by the broadest grin she’d ever felt in her life, Glori eased free of Plentillina’s body. Her servants helped her out of the harness. They bathed her quickly with soft, warm, damp cloths and helped her into her gown.

There was so much she’d experienced and so much yet to learn. One thing Glori knew for sure.

She could not wait for the wedding night.

~ THE END ~

Same Place, Same Time

Lucy Felthouse

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