Succumbing to Tradition

Written by Tara Tainton

Sunday, 19 April 2009 11:16

The mere thought of being near a woman made the young prince cringe with disgust. Marriage. It was only a political necessity. His royal duty. A contemptible fashion applauded by society. And the prince himself would be surrendering to the tradition as soon as tomorrow.

He had no use for a woman. All the necessities and expense of caring for one seemed too high a price. What was the merit or lure of the much talked about “embrace of the bosom” compared to that of sword-fighting, steed-racing, or mapping battle tactics? Even as prince and heir to the throne he had no choice but to succumb to the pressure to continue the line of succession. He must marry, must get with a woman to beget a son.

Another shiver shook the young man’s body from head to toe as he heard that dreaded announcement, served like a death sentence, outside his bedroom door. He would give anything to avoid carrying out the oldest tradition to terrorize a royal-born male prior to his wedding day. Yet he couldn’t escape the inevitable, and he was soon alone with her at the foot of his heavily adorned bed.

“Instruct me, then,” he commanded, “and be done with it.” The weighty woman, wise in ways as well as years, approached the prince in a manner much too jovial and casual for his taste. She smiled slyly as she removed his codpiece, unfastened his belt and breeches, and shoved a cold hand into his underclothes without hesitation.

The prince instantly jumped backwards, finding himself quite uncomfortably positioned on his back and his own bed. His paranoia only grew as the middle-aged woman chuckled with deep-throated laughter and rushed to his side again.

“My Lord, the methods of marriage are none to fear,” she said, and added “and your wife-to-be is much more pleasant to gaze upon than I.” With a final, haughty laugh, she flew onto the bed with enormous ease as if aided by some form of magic.

Her large hands were at his loins once again, this time carefully removing his most private bits from their hiding place and into the chill open air. He squinted against the pleasing touch, winced at the uncontrollable response in his nether region.

“My Lord, you should wear your sword much more proudly.” The woman’s complimentary words hardly compensated for his anguish.

When she cupped his “bits,” and began to stroke his “piece,” a quiet moan escaped the prince’s lips completely against his will. The pleasure was a different sort than he’d naturally learned to reward himself with. It was now skillfully inflicted by another. The prince decided he could give in to the obvious outcome of the moment, but hardly understood what a woman had to offer that he couldn’t provide himself.

With dutiful skill and self-control, the prince’s royal fluid quickly spurted in a voluminous fountain across his quivering lap. Quite proud of himself, he smirked at the woman and began to gather himself and his clothing. “Ah, but we haven’t finished your lesson, my lord.” The prince couldn’t possibly imagine what else might be required of his precious little time.

To his utter dismay, the well-worn maid began to remove her skirts, one by one, in a heap upon the floor. When she finally dropped her knickers themselves, the prince nearly shouted in fright at the sight he’d never laid eyes upon before. There—between the woman’s thick, milky legs—was the greatest forest of curling hair the prince assumed to be possible in the natural world. What could possibly be its point or purpose? Why did such an ominous nest of heavily scented fur exist?

The prince wanted nothing more than to run from the room, to inquire about the necessity of this confounded custom with his father, to perhaps debate the very necessity of marriage itself. Yet, he remained. He would conquer this challenge as he had all others he’d been faced with. She was merely a woman after all. He stood his ground.

His intimidating tutor slid toward him and pressed him against the bed once again. With the expert stroke of her hand, his piece was instantly standing stiffly yet again. The woman swiftly squatted over his prone body, lowered herself onto him, and swallowed his sword whole. Before his very eyes, his proud piece disappeared completely into that abyss of black hair.

Soon, the woman was bouncing on top of the prince, dipping his sword into that mysterious and moist hole. In and out. In and out. What he couldn’t see gave him the most unexpected pleasure.

He felt enveloped by warm folds, embraced by a cradle of wet silk. His own hips began to lift and press of their own accord, pounding against the woman’s wide bottom in rhythm. He reached for her large, pendulous breasts and used them as reins as if riding his favorite stallion.

Before the prince could reach his pinnacle moment, his tutor removed herself from his lap in surprisingly graceful fashion, and left him sweating with fever. His face was flushed with embarrassment and impatience. As he moved to right himself and call an end to the frustrating experience, the woman pinned his chest to the bedcovers with a single sweep of her arm.

The prince gasped as he witnessed the woman’s gaping mouth swoop down upon his nether region with tongue protruding. She lapped at him like a hungry animal, feasting upon his loins. The prince could no longer separate the swarm of sensations—pressure from warmth, wetness from suction. He was delirious with pleasure, overwhelmed by the sheer possibility of its magnitude.

The prince succumbed.

His body convulsed uncontrollably, slamming his lanky form into the pile of bedcovers again and again. As rhythmic waves suddenly washed over him, his body straightened in response. Boundless fluid escaped from his body, filling the welcoming mouth of his mentor. He was rigid from neck to toes, absorbing the full shock of utter ecstasy. He finally sank into complete relaxation, motionless for several minutes.

As the prince slowly awoke from his state of awe, the woman was still wiping at her mouth with her thick fingers, carefully licking each of them clean. In silence, the two dressed themselves and were soon greeted by the arrival of the prince’s men-in-waiting. With nothing more than a bow, the woman shuffled towards the open door and left the room.

The newly educated prince now stood with conspicuous and comfortable confidence as his eyes followed the invisible trail of rustling skirts. He signaled for his best man, his eyes never leaving the empty doorway.

“Yes, my lord?”

“See to it that this woman visits upon the princess this evening. Give her strict instructions to ensure that my wife-to-be masters these methods of marriage.”