Tuesday, February 4, 2014

The pearls

(The narrative thread, now exiguous, continues from here.)

I think I told Charles this one after reading Sleeping Beauty to my daughter Chloe.

Once upon a time, Princess Emily was at a ball, in a castle, wearing an evening gown of green silk over (and this she knew because she could not move a muscle without remembering it anew) lingerie made entirely of pearls, netted together in gossamer lace. This lingerie was the most expensive lingerie in the history of the world, and it had been a present from her father the king.

Emily had blushed crimson when her father had given her this royal gift, with the words "When your maids have attired you in these costly under-things, you must be careful! No one may touch them, or the gossamer lace will tear, and the pearls will fall away, and land upon the floor, and everyone will know that you are a slut who cannot keep her under-things on!"

"But father," said Emily, "If I should find a husband, will not he have the right to touch these pearls?"

The king smiled. "Yes, my dear, he will, for I have told the nobles of the land that he who wins your hand will gather these pearls tonight at the ball, when he shows that he is your lord, in front of the whole kingdom, on a stage set in the ballroom. And he will give you a new set of pearls, once he has gathered these."

Emily gasped at the thought, but felt a warmth growing in the place that would soon have those pearls upon it.

Now the handsome son of a Duke was whirling her across the floor, and all Emily could think about was the pearls covering her charms, working their way into her tender clefts, the one in front and the one in back, and, as she did, the pearls grew warmer, and moister. Would this man be the one to claim them? she wondered.

He was handsome, but he was too. . . deferential, too nice. She didn't know how her future lord was supposed to claim his pearls, but she sensed it would have to be by force, in some way. This son of a Duke didn't seem capable of that.

Then, to her astonishment, he said into her ear, "I know how wet your pearls are, princess." He sniffed the air, and continued, "I can smell how much you need to be possessed. I can assure you, when I rip those pearls off you, your backside is going to pay for the way you are flaunting your naughtiness in front of us all." Emily blushed to the roots of her hair. . . how could he? But. . . she felt the pearls growing ever warmer.

"My lord," Emily said, "I cannot understand you. In what way am I flaunting my naughtiness? If my nature is such that these pearls have caused my own body to betray me; even if you, as you claim, can smell that betrayal--in what way do I flaunt it? No, I would rather not wear these pearls, if it causes men to take such liberties." But she knew she lied.

"You are lying," said the son of the Duke. "You flaunt your naughtiness because in every look, in every step, in every breath you take you show us all how fortunate the man will be, who masters you."

Emily gasped, and it was then that the trumpet sounded.

"My lords!" said the sonorous voice of the King's Herald. "The Princess Emily is now to be awarded to him who can fuck her hardest!"

Emily gasped, but the assembled nobles murmured in assent. Emily broke away from the son of the Duke and ran to her father. "Father, what is this? You said my husband would be he who could claim the pearls, and that the gossamer lace would tear if anyone should touch it! How can you then award to me to the man who can. . . do that unspeakable thing. . . hardest?" She could not say the word, but as she thought of it, she grew wetter and wetter.

"Daughter," said the King, "I must confess that I told you an untruth. Your pearl lingerie is actually very strong. It is bound with the enchantments of a great sorceress; also, since your maids attired you in it, you doubtless did not realize that your pearls part, in certain places, to allow these lords to enjoy you, and to prove their worth. When a lord possesses you more forcefully than any other could, the gossamer lace will tear, and he will gather the pearls."

He looked at Emily, kindly but also, she thought, a little hungrily. "And now, daughter," he said, "It is time for you to take your place on the dais."

The footmen seized Emily, while she stood there pleading with her father the King, and carried her to the dais, where a low horse, such as is used in gymnastics, had been placed. Over this horse they bound Emily hand and foot, once her maids had removed the green silk gown, leaving her in only the pearls that covered her charms.

The nobles who were to compete had already disrobed. They stood before her, in a long queue, their sceptres of flesh rising arrogantly towards her face.

"The Princess," cried the Herald, "will greet each nobleman with her mouth, and prepare him to try to claim her pearls. She will prepare each nobleman, after the first, while the preceding one tries his strength inside her loins."

And so it began. One hundred nobleman tried the princess' charms that day, but only the son of the Duke knew how to possess her truly, for only he knew the secret of the pearls: the magic of the gossamer lace could stand up to ever so much pounding at the front entrance, but it would shatter the instant a man dared to use Emily in the rear.

At the moment the son of the Duke took Emily there, her mouth, now free (for the son of the Duke was the last in the queue), cried out in shame and agony and, finally, pleasure, and the pearls shattered all over the dais, and the people cried "Huzzah!" for the happy couple.


  1. Wow!!! That was amazing!! But.. We want more, we want more!!!

    1. Thanks, Tracey! I've been thinking about expanding this one, actually.