It is a storyteller’s job to be in alignment with truth,
whatever truth that may be in the universe they create.
I have always taken this to heart,
even if some readers sometimes get offended.
To serve the story is always the utmost of importance.
Thus, The Maiden of Monaco would not be truly served
if I did not include the next scene.
If you are easily offended,
perhaps it is best to pass this chapter by.
CHRISTOPHE had fallen asleep to the distant sound of celebration. He had managed to win back the hearts of his fellow countrymen with his optimism, and had drifted into unconsciousness with thoughts of how the princess had looked at him when savoring one of his Chardonnay grapes.
Now he found himself in a dream. The kind the mind knows to be too good to be true, yet still allows such fantasy to unfold since rooted in deep desire. It was the delicate touch of the princess, gently running down his face until those lips he had so passionately merged with came down upon his own for a reunion that had been so longed for.
As the magic returned Christophe pleaded from the depths of his mind, begging the logical side of his brain to just let him be. But the intensity was just too strong, too real for his conscious to ignore.And so physical awareness took over, causing his eyes to flutter open.
But instead of opening to the sight of the ceiling above his bed, what came into focus was a pair of eyes staring into his.
Or was it a reflection of his own?
And then he realized he was still amidst the magic of the kiss.
Shock froze the boy in fear, but before he could snap himself out of it the lips he was attached to were withdrawn and immediately replaced with a delicate finger, followed by a whispered reassurance. ‘Shhh, do not worry, my lord Christophe. It is only I, Princess Angelique. The maiden you have fought so hard for.’ She lifted her finger, smiled and leaned down to kiss him some more.
He couldn’t believe it. Was he having the most realistic dream of his life? To be sure he wasn’t he pressed down hard into the tender wounds of his fingertips. Sharp pain arose but she was still there, her face above his, and now the awareness of her covered breasts resting atop his bare chest as she sat next to his lying body.
A test…? Oh no, wait…
“Wait, milady, is this another challenge? Am I again being tested for my honesty? I… I cannot hand over victory without a fight. I must-’
Placing her finger back atop his lips, her words remained soft. ‘The competition is over. Well, for me it is. Of course it must go on for appearances sake, but I come to you tonight to ask of you, to beg of you, let the German win.’
The request stung Christophe more than any thistle ever could. ‘But I thought I was not the only one who felt the magic of our kiss. Did it mean nothing to you? And if so, why come here and torture me with the very act I believed to be the evidence that we were destined for one another?’
‘Before I even laid eyes on you,’ the maiden went on to explain as she lifted her body off his, ‘I had heard rumors that one of the lords who would compete in taking my hand would be that of a mere boy. If true, this of course raised many questions, with the one that most begged to be answered being how could he expect to have a chance against nine full grown men?
‘And then the story only deepened, as I learned you had not been born into the royal title but only recently acquired it by saving your king’s life. That out of all things that could have been granted to you, you chose the title of lord for the sole purpose of competing for my hand.
‘That in itself reserved a special place in my heart for you. And then came the opening ceremonies. There is no way you could have known how much I cherish storytelling. How I had grown up with parents who read bedtime stories to me every night of my childhood. How I now have the largest library of books in Monaco, and aim to help all in my kingdom become literate.
‘And yet, as if it were fate, the one lord who had already demonstrated his devotion towards me presents me with a gift I hold most dear. That of story.
‘Before coming here to France I was instructed on how to remain impartial. But no amount of discipline, no amount of education could have prepared my heart not to waver from the extraordinary warmth you impressed upon it. To have bloodied yourself for so many hours just to continue the fight to win my hand… I cried half the night.
‘And yes, you speak the truth in that you weren’t the only one who felt the magic of our kiss. You see, I left my homeland as a girl who felt she was not ready for marriage, still needing the love of her nurturing mother and father to tuck her in and read her tales of the courageous and brave.
‘But although I still felt like a child on the inside, my body had ripened to the point to where I had to fulfill my destiny, and so I was sent away from everything I have ever known with the expectation that I would return with a foreign husband.
‘It did not matter that I had yet to develop an attraction for the opposite sex. My royal duty was to give over my maidenhead to whoever would win a competition I hardly had any say in.
‘Those three mouths I had to kiss before yours all felt repulsively the same, all domineering in their arrogant belief that the forceful course would be the one I’d be most attracted to.
‘And then there was your kiss. So gentle, so soft that it felt as though I had been approached by an angel. Certain parts of my body had come to life in a way I had never felt before, which scared me in to believing all who watched could somehow see such a secret exposed.
‘But then I began to taste the sweetness which coated your lips. A sweetness that was as deliciously new to me as this magic I felt. The two became one and I no longer cared who saw what. I was lost in heaven, not wishing to be found.
‘And the blindfold, it had no bearing. I knew in my heart of hearts that it had to be you. Who else would have had the thoughtfulness to prepare in such a way?
‘You, an adolescent some three years younger than I have shown more will and determination than any man I have ever known. One cannot walk the streets of Paris without hearing stories of the boy who became a lord to win the hand of a maiden. So much like the fairytales we hold dear, Christophe, only the achievement of this happily ever after is an impossible task.
‘If only I would have had the foresight to have known that the final challenge would involve hand-to-hand combat, then would I have chosen Belgium over the German.
‘So I beg of you, forfeit the match, for it will break my heart to see you unnecessarily harmed and defeated.’
‘But Your Highness-‘, Christophe began to protest as he sat up. But the soft touch once again came down upon his lips. ‘Please milord, allow me to finish.
‘Although I have no control over the outcome of the final challenge I can determine my own destiny when it comes to whom I chose to give over my maidenhead. I won’t allow such a decision to be made by others on my behalf. It is all I have left of who I was, and I choose you, my beloved. Please do not deny me this one last wish I have for myself, for after tonight my fate will be in the hands of a stranger.’
Princess Angelique stood Christophe to his feet as she did so herself and guided his hand to the lace of her night gown. He was about an inch shorter than her, and when he looked up into her eyes he saw something new. The look of total surrender.The look of a girl asking a boy to take them from innocence to blossom. What if he did lose the competition? How could he deny such a last wish?
Christophe’s wounded fingers took hold of the lace string and slowly pulled it down, the fabric of the gown beginning to ease off the maiden’s shoulders until it came to a rest atop her bosom. The two leaned in, to what was now becoming the comfortably familiar feeling of the other’s mouth, the passionate kiss eventually leading them back onto Christophe’s bed.
Baited breaths proceeded to get heavier, and when the younger of the two took his kisses to his beloved’s jaw line she lifted it, inviting his open mouth to her extended neck.
He followed the path which naturally led to her chest, and it was there where he found her white-blush breasts already half uncovered. The fleshy roundness beckoned him to reach out with both hands and mouth, and when he set the second half free the sight of them in their entirety sent the awoken organ between his legs into a state of throbbing.
He devoured, spinning his Angelique into uncontrolled bouts of pleasure as he played with her hardened nipples with every part of his mouth.
The journey across Christophe’s bridge to manhood was nearing an end, his hands pulling the fair maiden’s gown on down past her hips and thighs until he had stripped her bare.
The pubic hair sprouting out of Angelique’s small mound brought to Christophe’s attention that she would soon see he hardly had any, but just as shame began to creep through his aroused nerves the maiden opened her legs to her young lord, presenting him the virginal prize ten had been fighting over.
Nature’s most miraculous creation was now right there before his eyes. How intricate it looked with those two plump lips bunched together. How was he supposed to approach this mysterious thing that looked somewhat like an exotic flower made of flesh? Well, it had what appeared to be lips, so he leaned down and placed his own against the soft pinkish-red to give them a kiss.
It started off by reminding him of the one he and Angelique first shared and how she had begun to lick the sweetness off of his lips. Although there was no juice of a grape on these lips they did seem to be moistened by something, the taste of which provided somewhat of a tang to Christophe’s tongue.
Angelique’s moanful reaction encouraged him to keep going, and once he had licked both lips he slipped his tongue in between them, finding the inside to be wetter than the outer, and as he started to get the feel of this foreign mouth he began to French kiss it like he had done with the one above.
The more Christophe worked his tongue the more his fair maiden would twitch and jolt, with the lad coming back up now and again to visually take in the discovery of a new area.
After awhile curiosity got the best of him and he took some time to look over in more detail this most private of the princess’s parts. He had felt with his tongue that although tight the lower portion seemed to be leading to what he suspected to be an entrance to her insides, but upon closer inspection he found there to be no way in.
There was, however, a small patch of skin that appeared to be thinner than the rest. Somewhat transparent, with a collection of red below its surface. Perhaps this was the maidenhead he had heard of. Was he to push through it and break it with the hardness of his organ?
The thought made it ache with desire, while his heart ached at the prospect of hurting her. Thankfully Angelique sat up and pulled away the undershorts he had been sleeping in.
Christophe’s manhood sprang out like a beast unleashed, and for a moment the princess just sat there, speechless, causing concern for the boy since this was who he was, unable to change his physical makeup. ‘What’s wrong, my beloved? Do I not meet your expectations?’
‘Oh, my lord,’ she replied without taking her eyes off of it, ‘you far exceed them! Has no one ever mentioned your size before? The men you bathe with? Your mother? A sister?’
Still unsure if this was a good thing or not, Christophe answered the only way he could. Honestly. ‘I am an only child, and my mother died upon bringing me into this world. I have bathed alone from as far back as I can remember, as such is the custom in the monastery I grew up in. Am I not normal?’
Angelique searched for the words as she slowly reached out to touch it, and when her fingertips made contact it jumped at her like a snake looking to sink its fangs into her.
‘I do not believe so,’ she whispered as she cautiously went in for another touch. ‘I mean, I am by no means an expert, with my only experience being that of occasionally seeing one of my relatives arise from bed in the mornings, by accident of course. And none were ever as, how do I say, well-endowed as this! I may be wrong, but I doubt any of these lords you’ve been up against can compare. Even that monstrous German would be unlikely to measure up!’
‘If only the competition had been based on such, then,’ Christophe joked.
Spellbound, Angelique could only respond with a soft ‘indeed’ as she curled her small hand around part of the impressive shaft. With her other hand she began to run a finger over the secretion that was now beginning to ooze from the slit of the engorged head, spreading the sticky substance onto its smooth surface as the whole thing continued to throb.
Although it would still be some time before either of the two would know for sure, the maiden had been correct in her assumption that Christophe had been born with a penis significantly larger than other males. A secret asset he had had no idea of being in possession of. A secret that made Angelique feel special in knowing that she was the first to discover this, and that her first would be his first as well.
With open lips she went for Christophe’s thick head, barely being able to fit her mouth around it and then moving her head about to taste the sweetness of its coating. Her other mouth began to water even more so, the need to have him deep inside of her driving her to release him from her oral grasp and guide his massiveness down in between her legs.
Christophe had been riding a wave of sensational bliss until the maiden had stopped tasting him, and now watched in anticipation as she once again opened her legs, her hand still wrapped around his excitement while directing it to her wetness.
Angelique placed the head against the area that Christophe had found to be the thinnest layer of skin and looked up to her young lover with those same surrounding eyes.
Now armed with the knowledge of how to proceed, he gently pushed forward, their eyes locked into one another’s as the tip of his piercing manhood began to rip through her maidenhead.
It reminded Christophe of breaking through the thin skin of one of his Chardonnay grapes, with the extracting juice now being that of blood. The look on his beloved’s face, mixed expressions of pleasure and pain kept him in wonder. But it was clear that this is what she wanted, and so tight as it was he continued to tear through her innocence until his head was completely inside of her.
The amount of blood that had spilt forth thus far was more than the accumulation that had come from his fingertips the day before, yet he still had several more inches of himself to fill her up with.
The little mouth was as snug around the area right below his head as her lips had been when tasting him. Continuous movement within the wetness of the mouth had caused the unforgettable pleasure, prompting him to move his hips a bit in search of similar sensations. And it was through such action that the euphoria returned, the skintight friction against Christophe’s underside creating such an intense feeling that he couldn’t imagine anything ever being better.
The craving for more drove him to push in further, in turn ripping out a loud cry from the princess. He immediately froze in fear and noticed her eyes were now full of tears. But she made her wishes known to him with a soft whisper of, ‘Keep going. Never stop, my beloved Christophe. Never stop.’
He looked down at their union and found there to be even more blood. So much so that it was hard for him to see the state of her little mouth. But from what he could make out it was like trying to plug a hole the size of a coin with one’s fist.
To try and help ease the compaction he used his fingers to gently spread her open a little more, then picked up where he left off with the soft movements of pushing inside her again and again.
The tearful moans went on, as did the increased levels of pleasure felt between the two. How could a man deny himself such an amazing experience? Christophe asked himself as the thought of Father Ramsey and the others who lived such strict lives crossed his mind.
His appetite would never be the same again, for no feast would ever satisfy like the one he was indulging in now. And no woman would ever compare to his beloved Maiden of Monaco. The deeper he pushed the more her tears would flow, the more her sweat and blood would pour, the more she would urge him to keep going.
The rawness of her insides continuing to massage the very monster that was tearing her apart in such a delicious way. Harder, stronger, faster until the two were one in their heavenly flight towards orgasm, their bodies then bursting into simultaneous spasms, the exquisite grip of which then released them to collapse into one another’s arms.
Only after the great moment passed did the two notice the incredible amount of blood that had been shed from the breaking of the princess’s maidenhead, and only after such a shocking sight did the imperative question arise. Whether or not Christophe were to forfeit or face the next day’s challenge, which in all likeliness he would lose, the outcome would be the same. In their intense desire for one another they had both failed to realize the obvious…
What would the consequences be when Germany were to discover that the Maiden of Monaco was not a maiden after all?
The grand finale to be posted shortly!