Prince Bonir Vol. 05

I knelt on one knee, holding her hand, kissing it. I looked up at her with a slight smile, asking "Princess Petra, will you be my bride?"

She smiled slightly too. She didn't answer at once, giving herself a moment to make sure this was what she wanted. Satisfied that there was no reason not to, she replied, "I would be honored, Lord Duke of Averic."

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To the surprise of no one, I announced at breakfast that Petra had assented to my request for her hand in marriage. Queen Malena tried to be happy for her daughter and hide her disappointment at Inga not being chosen. Inga, for her part, had not even bothered to come to breakfast. But Freya hugged her sister with happy congratulations, and tough old King Harald shed a tear that his favorite daughter would be wed in the morrow. But there was little time to celebrate; it was a good thing that I had chosen in just two days time, for there was much work to be done for a royal wedding—tomorrow! As soon as breakfast was over an army of seamstresses descended on the bride to be, taking measurements and making adjustments to a gown they had begun but had not been able to fit without knowing who would wear it. A smith came to measure her finger for the gold circlet that would denote both her marriage and her rank as Duchess. Freya, thankfully, was Petra's giddily excited companion throughout the whole process, and I think made it become an enjoyment instead of a chore.

For my part, I was busy receiving wedding guests that had already begun to arrive. It was too short of a notice for many, especially those further away, but fortunately my cousin the king came. I offered him my own room, especially since the King of Norway was already in the room normally reserved for royal guests, but he insisted on taking a regular room rather than unseat me from my own room in my own castle. King Edelbert and I had a lot in common.

Next thing I knew it was dinner. Half of the wedding guests had already arrived, and Petra and I sat side-by-side at a table at the head of the dining hall, just as we would be at our reception the next day. She was feeling overwhelmed by the number of strangers coming up and offering their congratulations, but a few squeezes of my hand were all the boosting her confidence needed to carry on. And as her confidence grew, her charm was unmistakable, and she left many positive impressions on her soon-to-be relations.

It was late before I had taken care of all of my guests' needs and was able to retire myself. I returned to my room to find that Eve and Arianna were waiting for me. To celebrate my last evening as a single man, they had a surprise for me—they had snuck Kamilah in from the Abbey to reprise her Dance of the Seven Veils for me (see Prince Bonir #3: The Witches' Orgy). As Kamilah began twirling and letting veils fall, Eve and Arianna stripped me from the waist down. Lying on my back, the two of them worked together to pleasure my phallus with their lips and tongues. With a more private audience, this time Kamilah not only did not hesitate to dance topless after the seventh veil fell, but she teased me by bending over the bed, hanging her breasts over my head, and shimmying them back and forth, just out of my reach. I grew intensely erect in response, so much so that Arianna removed her dress, bend her knees, and lowered herself onto my erection, bobbing up and down so that I slid easily into and out of her depths.

"Are you frustrated you can't reach?" Eve teased as she watched me watch Kamilah. "Poor baby. How about one of these?" She draped her own breast into my face, and I suckled it like an infant, still watching Kamilah. The dance and Eve's breast, combined with Arianna's impaling herself upon my pole, produced a rapturous orgasm. As I thanked Kamilah, and Eve and Arianna thoughtfully licked my phallus clean, it felt like the end of an era—even though I had made it clear that marriage or no marriage, Eve and Arianna were staying.

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Being the groom is one thing, being the host of the wedding is quite another. Be being at the same time—I don't recommend it if it can be helped. But my father was gone, and my mother could just bring herself to be carried to the church for the ceremony, the first time she had left her apartments since my father's passing. I was so busy attending to guests in the morning, I had to be reminded—twice—that it was time to dress and head to the cathedral. No sooner was I there it seemed that I was standing by the altar as my bride made her entrance. She was beautiful, almost-white blonde hair up, in a white dress just a teasing hint of cleavage displayed. We smiled genuinely at each other as I took her from King Harald's arm; it had taken some explaining, I was told, how the procession worked, as it was different from how it was done in Norway. Arm and arm, we stood before the Archbishop and recited our vows. For the first time I could remember, the Archbishop seemed to approve of my actions.

After our vows there was the reception in the great-hall, and again I was so busy being the host that I barely had time to enjoy this occasion—indeed, I scarcely had a chance to eat. The dancing began, and truthfully neither of us was an accomplished dancer, but as we were both somewhat athletic it didn't look as bad to observers as it might have. It was the first chance I had to really be alone and in touch with my new wife, and it is the thing I remember most. Once the rest of the guests began dancing, it was back to being host again, and I didn't get a chance to rest until there were but a handful of guests remaining in the hall, and they remained as much because they were too intoxicated to find their way in the unfamiliar castle as any desire to remain.

Petra was likewise exhausted—as the bride, she had danced with someone for every song all night. She sat in my lap, sideways, arm around me. She held a cup of wine in her other hand, sipping from it from time to time and offering it to me as well. It felt very natural to have my lovely new bride offering me the cup. I hugged her close, both arms around her waist. Her soft breasts pressed against my face—I was suddenly anxious to see them, to touch them for the first time. She was aware that I was pressing my face into her chest, and gently kissed the top of my head. I nuzzled her breast with my nose, hoping that I might get a preview of its tip, but could not feel anything through the cloth of the wedding dress. I craned my neck forward instead and lay my head down atop her exposed cleavage, my cheek feeling the soft mounds having slightly.

Petra took a sip of wine, then put her glass down. She put her finger under my chin, gently pulling my face up from her cleavage, and kissed me. "It is time for the reception to end, is it not?" I nodded, then kissed her again, my hand creeping up the front of her dress towards those increasingly irresistible breasts. She stood before my eagerness created a scene.

I stood up, took her hand, and walked with her to my bedchamber. She started to walk in until I pulled her back by the hand. She turned to me with surprise.

"It is a tradition since Roman times, in this part of the world," I began, while putting my right arm by her knee and swoop picking her up. She squeaked in happy surprise. "The groom carries his bride over the threshold and into her new home..." I explained as I carried her into the room "thus."

She smiled a big smile, touched my cheek with her hand gently. She was lighter in my arms than I expected, not like Arianna but enough that I didn't strain to hold her. "Put me down," she half-giggled.

"Why?" I teased, and bent to kiss her. She put her arms around my neck, making her even less of a burden to hold, and kissed me back. I gently pressed my tongue against her lips; she opened them, and we intertwined our tongues. I stood there holding her, tongue-kissing, for what seemed like a long time—or at least, my arms were beginning to fatigue. Without putting her down, I took three steps towards the bed, turned and sat down on it. Now she was again in my lap, but now I could touch her with impunity.

She sighed nervously; I had no doubt that my interlude with Eve and Arianna earlier in the week was all the she had seen or knew about the bridal bed. Perhaps she feared that she would disappoint me. I sought to put her at ease. I kissed her again, gently touching her face and the side of her neck. Bit by bit I let my hand slip further down, until I was touching her breasts through her dress. I made little circles with my fingers, trying to stimulate the nipples below without yet touching them directly. Presently I felt a firm spot in the midst of my circling.

My fingers fumbled into the buttons down the front of the dress. I gently undid the first one, stroked the skin above her cleavage some more, returned for the second one, and so on. When four buttons were undone, I started letting my hand slip underneath. The skin of her breasts felt wonderfully smooth and unblemished. I let my hands venture in further until I could cup my hand under her breast and support it. It's weight was appreciable, and I daresay it was the perfect size for my hand; any larger and I could not have held it all at once.

She stopped kissing me as I began touching her breasts more in earnest, but I was able to get her to return to kissing me again. If I could get her to focus on kissing during foreplay, it would help her ease into lovemaking. I now gently explored her breast further. My middle finger stumbled across the nipple; gently circling it, it grew slightly. It was hard to judge with a finger, but it felt like they must stand out quite a distance. And all of it was soft and warm.

I found and released the fifth button. I then pulled the top of her dress nearer to me, so that her right breast was exposed. I touched it as well, awakening it's nipple. This time when she took a break from kissing, I bend my neck slightly and kissed her breast instead. It was milky white, with smooth, delicate skin and slightly brownish nipples that indeed stood quite high above the areolae. I kissed my way towards the nipple, which I first kissed and then gently sucked with my lips. All the while I gently strummed her left nipple with my right thumb. She lay her hand lightly on my back, stroking it softly. I felt her back twisting ever so slightly in response to my arousing stimulations, and she began to draw shallower breaths.

Then I felt her hand gently pushing me away. I made eye contact, wanting to see what was the matter. She stood up in front of me. Then, much as she had seen Arianna do a few days before, she pulled her dress up and over her head, tossing it on the ground. She still wore pantaloons, but she was bare from the waist up. Her pale skin was almost perfectly unblemished, save a tiny brown speck on her right side and another near her left shoulder. Her breasts stood out proudly. Her belly was smooth and flat, and her waist was much narrower than her hips.

Without knowing it I had held my breath, then exhaled "Petra! You are so beautiful!" I leaned forward, eager to return her excited nipples to my mouth, but she held me off at arm's length with a giggle.

"Your turn!" she teased. I smiled, and took off my tunic. Her gaze passed over my broad shoulders and my chest, muscled from years of combat training. She had seen me before, but now she could touch me too. She put her hand on my shoulders and began to run them along the length of my shoulders and torso, feeling me as a carpenter might inspect the smoothness of a sanded surface. I stood, and returned the favor, running my hands along the smooth surfaces of her shoulders and her belly, but for some reason unable to stop returning to those soft yet firm mounds and their brown, pointy tips.

I might have touched them one too many times, for she drew her shoulders in and pulled her torso back as if I had tickled her, and perhaps I had. She then put her arms around my waist and reached up to kiss me. I felt her breasts pressing into me, and they felt wonderful. She had taken the place where usually I would put my hands, however, so I had no choice but to put them on her shoulders. I did not realize that she had a specific reason for grabbing my waist until I felt the fingers in my waistband, loosening and then pulling my hose down. Presently I felt a hint of breeze on my jewels, and my staff sprung forth and pointed skyward. She continued to kiss me, but now she gently explored my twig-and-berries with both hands. She ran her hands up and down my length, and could feel me twitch in response. Her hands felt good upon me, so I let feel her away around for a while so to speak. Suddenly her hands stopped touching me. In the next second they were on my shoulders, and playfully she pushed me back onto the bed.

"Please tell me if I do not do this right," she said to me, her eyes gazing into mine so that I understood she was serious. Then she bent her knees before me, and tried to emulate what she had seen Eve do. Focusing on my staff, she opened her mouth and gently encircled it. She didn't really understand what she was trying to accomplish, and she could accept barely half of my length, but I gave her all the credit in the world for trying. Something told me that many, perhaps most princesses in the world would have considered this beneath them—certainly my sister would have. Conjuring the image of my sister in any sort of carnal position turned my stomach, however, so I quickly re-focused on the golden hair I saw bobbing up and down as she tried to pleasure me. She was stiff and uncertain, and was not establishing any sort of rhythm that would build up arousal, but then again she had not been on the receiving end yet to understand the tantamount importance of pacing. But her mouth was warm and inviting nonetheless, and my flagpole showed no interest in softening.

She paused for a moment to look at me for feedback, stroking me. I smiled encouragement. Perhaps instinctively, she ran her tongue along my sensitive underside. "Oh..." I responded "that's nice. The tongue feels especially nice." And with just that little tip she now incorporated her tongue, and became much more effective. On the downside she spent too much time just licking my length, but on the positive she used her tongue while swallowing me, and it was highly arousing. Now, if only she would pick up a little better rhythm...

I put my hands under her arms and pushed up; she stood in response, as did I. I pulled my hose the rest of the way down so that now I stood naked. Then, eyes locked on my new bride, I felt for the string of her pantaloons. Finding it, I untied it, and it feel to her ankles. We were both now dressed as on the day of our birth.

I motioned for her to follow me as I lie on my back in the middle of the bed. She lay on it, slanted, first kissing me, then returning her attention to my saluting soldier. It felt good, but I was becoming more and more acutely aware that only one of us was getting aroused. I could reach her thighs, but her legs were close together—I could not get my finger in-between. I slid my hand under hips while she bent over me, and indicated that she should swing her hips over towards me—but she did not get my meaning. With my member still in her mouth, she turned to look up at me, knowing I wanted something but not sure what. I shall always have the image of how she looked at that moment etched among the fondest images in my memory—her blonde hair flowing loosely, my penis protruding from her pretty mouth, an intent look upon her face, with her lovely breast in full view just beyond.

"Bring your hips over this way," I said. She swung over so that she was lying next to me, but I don't think it occurred to her to lie on TOP of me. "Ok, now here," I said, grasping the closer leg and guiding it over, "put on the other side of me so that you're completely on top of me." She released my penis and sat up, trying to understand my meaning, not convinced that I really wanted her to lie on top of me. But with her hips now close enough, I could use my hand to guide her pelvis so that I could reach her with my tongue. "There, perfect." I said. Straw-colored curls matted the space between her thighs. Using my fingers, I separated the snarls, one by one, working my way down to the treasure beneath. In time I cleared the path and the cleft, still tightly clenched, lay before me.

I ran my tongue up and down the length of the fissure. Petra made a kind of surprised "hmmph" in response. I felt her tongue on my penis, then felt her close her mouth around it's tip. I kept my tongue busy as well, moving up and down the skin that was beginning to raise and slightly part. Then my tongue found the hard little knot at the top of the opening. I pressed upon it with my tongue, darting it back and forth while trying to keep pressure applied. I felt her hand replace her mouth on my penis, and I could tell she was arching her back in order to keep her head up. "Oooooh..." she said as I continued to focus on the tiny knob. She kept her hand moving up and down, but I imagined her with her eyes closed, experiencing the intense pleasure for the first time. Of course, all I could see was her other end, and quite up-close. It started to grow damp from the inside, and I could begin to smell the special aroma of arousal.

Her labia now engorged, I gently pulled the lips apart to reach more of the sensitive skin with my tongue. I could see the delicate opening, lined by the wispy corona of the maidenhead. I thought ahead to tearing through that film, remembered the time when Arianna surrendered her maidenhead to me. For a moment, my flesh hardened even further, rivaling that of my blade, or so it seemed. Petra felt the twitch of rigidity, although she had no idea why of course. Nevertheless, she responded by again taking me into her mouth. I continued my focus on the tiny hood that was the center of her pleasure. I felt her begin to grind her pelvis into me, rising up and down in response to my attentions. Again she released me and arched her back. I could feel her breathing grow shallower still.

Suddenly she swung her legs up and over and away from me. Her legs were bent under her, knees still parted in a V-formation. She breathed "Bonir, please take me now. I long to feel what it is like to lie with a man."

"I can't wait," I readily agreed, "do you wish me to wear a sheath?"

"That is the device I saw, the one that protects a woman from conception?" she asked.

"Indeed," I replied.

"Did you not say that have an heir was the Duchess' most important role?" she continued.

"Yes," I replied, "but it is also just our wedding day, and we are both yet young. We can wait a while, perhaps learn more about each other, before we have a child."

"You are already expecting a child," she pointed out, "and if it is my most important duty to bear you an heir, I see no point in waiting."

I smiled. "As you wish." I kissed her, then guided her to take my spot, lying her back in the middle of the bed. Her knees were bent but her thighs parted, and she watched me as I took up my position between them. "It might hurt momentarily when I first enter, but it shall pass quickly," I warned as I pointed myself towards her opening. Her lips were almost glowing red in excitement. I rubbed my tip up and down the outer lips a few times in preparation; I could feel their glistening dew preparing the passage for me. Her eyes were pointed at me, but her attention was fixed on things she could feel but not see. Then I lined myself up and pushed forward.

Her eyes grew wide, and she sucked in air for just a second as I tore through the protective sheeting of her maidenhead. I pushed in just a few inches at first, backed off, pushed in again. She was tight as a nun, yet so well-oiled that I had no difficulty plumbing her depths. I began with slowly measured half-strokes, but then her breathing resumed, her eyes returned to normal size as she became more accustomed to the sensation, and she rested her hands gently on my forearms as I supported myself above her. I made some strokes at my usual pace, then paused to slowly drill deeper into the hole. I backed off and thrust some more, then again paused to drill deeper still. It wasn't very long before I felt my pubic bone press lightly against hers; I was now fully inserted.