Enchanted_ Erotic Bedtime Stories For Woman Part 3

He sighed, silently debating over how long it would take him to break her down to the point where she would accept his terms. He was torn between two and three minutes. He placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed forward gently. "On all fours then, slave," he reminded her.

She took a deep breath, a.s.suring herself that she could do this. But her first attempt failed. Her limbs felt unusually stiff. It was as if they possessed a will of their own, and refused to bend under the present circ.u.mstances. Her face was scarlet when she was finally able to force her body to submit, and at length she found herself prostrate before the arrogant cat, on hands and knees.

The position was new to her. She was overcome with shame and mortification. But there was something else. She felt agitated and inexplicably high-strung. Unwelcome tears filled her eyes. She struggled to stifle her sobs so that her tormentor would not know the extent of her discomfiture. He, meanwhile, positioned himself behind her. Though she pressed her legs together as much as possible, she knew that in this position she could not hide herself from his view. The strange stirrings this provoked within her caused the tears to flow faster. She was in a dangerously emotional and excitable state.

Cat's hand caressed her exposed area possessively. He chuckled as he once again felt her wet desire. She gasped, on the verge of panic. I must regain my composure, I must regain my composure, she thought. But there was such turmoil within her that she hardly knew where to begin. she thought. But there was such turmoil within her that she hardly knew where to begin.

Her captor slapped her b.u.t.tocks lightly, saying, "Forward, slave." Awkwardly she crawled forward, hating him more with every advance. He walked behind her, enjoying the view, but not really liking to see her so subjugated. He felt that she was definitely at her most magnificent when she stood in a posture of authority.

Tears threatened to gush forth again, but Mouse blinked them back as best she could, determined to maintain an appearance, at least, of internal composure. But with every movement she felt more debased and was quickly giving way to despair.

"Left here, if you please," Cat instructed cheerfully.

She abruptly stopped.

"But that leads outdoors into the public," she protested in horror. By some miracle they had avoided seeing anyone in their travels so far, but she knew that the likelihood of seeing other cats and mice would increase tremendously if they left their current shelter. Surely this fiend who was to be her master for the evening would not be so depraved as to force her to accompany him out there!

"I know where it leads," he was saying. "I have a desire for some fresh air, and you shall accompany me."

"But there are cats out there!" She would not- could not- possibly go out there, where everyone would see her in this position and henceforward think of her as a slave. What was she to do?

He saw the look of wild desperation on her face, but he could not let up now- not when he had come so far with her. He was determined to have her submit to him fully, and he knew that the only way to accomplish that was to win completely. He was amazed that she had lasted this long. But he knew she could hold out no longer. She would rather do anything than to serve him publicly on her hands and knees. And he certainly had no intention of allowing the other cats to see her so demeaned.

With an air of impatience he gently nudged her forward with his leg. "Onward, slave!" he demanded.

She didn't budge. Tears were running down her face. He fought the urge to stop the game and take her in his arms. But there would be plenty of time for that later, and he forced himself to give her another nudge. "Let's go, wench." But his voice was losing its authority. He was astounded by her stubbornness. Take the challenge, Take the challenge, he mentally implored her; he mentally implored her; you will still lose, but at least you'll do so with a little more dignity. you will still lose, but at least you'll do so with a little more dignity.

"I'll take the challenge," she choked between sobs.

He let out a sigh. "Stand up, then," he said, feigning indifference. "Unless you've grown to like it down there."

Mouse shot up like a rocket. She was trembling with relief and busied herself with dusting off her hands and knees as she tried to regain her composure. It occurred to her that she had put herself through all that humiliation for no good reason. What did she care that the wager was unreasonably high? She would not- could not- lose to him a second time, for this time it would require a confession from her lips, and she still had full command of that organ, if not the other parts of her body. No, he could never make her utter in words the same admission her body had given.

Cat led Mouse to his quarters, which, of course, were far superior to her little hole in the wall. It irked her that the cats always had so much more than the mice, especially since the reality was that mice worked just as hard, if not harder than the cats. She looked at him, agitated and uncertain.

"So all I have to do is remain here with you without- " she paused "- without..."

"Without confessing your true feelings for me?" he suggested with a grin.

"Without confirming your illusions regarding my feelings for you," she corrected, becoming more hopeful and composed now. "And for how long do you plan to keep me here?"

"Will two hours, do you think, be sufficient?" he asked sweetly. "It will by no means take me the full two hours to have you issuing forth a confession of your desire for me, but still, I find two hours to be the amount of time I most prefer to spend in this particular pastime." He walked casually toward the window to hide his countenance from her. He could only defeat her if she took the bait.

"I don't care a fig about your personal preferences," she stormed, wis.h.i.+ng that she could just once make him lose his smug self-a.s.surance.

"Is that your way of asking for three hours instead of two?" he taunted.

"Two hours is more than enough time to have to endure your presence," she replied. "And you will be the only one 'issuing forth confessions' of any kind."

He congratulated himself on his ability to lure her in, yet again. She would indeed be a dangerous opponent if she were not so hotheaded. He removed the smile from his lips and turned to face her. "Another challenge?"

"Well..." she thought for a moment. "I do think I could tolerate you as my my slave for the evening. Yes!" slave for the evening. Yes!"

"Just so we understand each other," he quickly moved in for the kill. "If you declare your obvious desire for me first, you become my wife? If I declare my desire first, I become your slave?"

She thought for a moment. "Yes, I think that sums it up."

"Well then," he said with a smile. "Just so you know, if you're going to have a fighting chance of getting any kind of declaration from me, you're going to have to do it from over there." He flicked his thumb in the direction of the oversize bed that stood in the middle of the room.

Mouse bit her lip as she looked toward the bed. She had been thinking the very same thing. And why not? She would not mind sampling pleasures from the cat who had managed to get the best of her up to this point.

Cat almost groaned out loud as he read her thoughts from the expression on her face. Perhaps he should have taken what he could have from her as his slave. But no, that would never satisfy him. He wanted this mouse forever as his playmate and rival.

He stepped nearer to her and lifted her chin. His eyes locked with hers. Determined to win her heart he lowered his lips to hers. Determined to win the game she met his lips with fervor. Now she could at last give in to the desire that had been growing within her throughout their little game. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body up against his. As long as she didn't speak, everything would be all right.

In one easy sweep, Cat lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He wanted to remove his clothes and feel her softness against his skin, but needed the advantage of remaining clothed for as long as possible. He also wanted her to be completely relaxed and at ease, so he prudently dimmed the light. He leaned over her on the bed and very adeptly removed the little ragged cloth she wore. Then he resumed kissing her, while his hands aggressively explored her naked flesh.

Although his hands and lips were sending thrills throughout her body, somewhere in a far back corner of her consciousness Mouse could hear a repeated warning, but it was too distant to make out at first. As she struggled to regain control of her mind, it slowly occurred to her that she should not be pa.s.sively allowing him to seduce her like this. She She should be seducing should be seducing him him. After all, she didn't just want to avoid losing the bet; she wanted to win. She wanted to see him on his hands and knees, groveling before her, just as she had been forced to do before him.

She raised herself up and pushed her hands against his chest in an effort to force him onto his back on the bed. When he complied, she slowly began to remove his clothes. His body was so beautiful in its masculinity that she could not help but wonder if by undressing him she was not harming her own cause more than his.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly lowered her lips to his face. He tried to claim her lips with his, but she backed away, and then repeated the action, until he allowed her full control of the kiss. Once this tiny battle was won, she began placing her kisses lower, working her way past his chin and neck to his chest, and then even lower still until she heard his sharp intake of breath. She realized then that she had one clear advantage over him, and that was that his desire was visible. She could easily perceive the effect she was having on him. Her confidence soared as she lowered her lips over the distended protrusion that betrayed him. He made one pitiful attempt to stop her before she closed her lips around him, gently sucking on the tip. A low groan escaped his lips. She wondered for a moment if that counted. Surely that groan, translated into language, would be an expression of his obvious desire for her. But she knew she needed more. Well, there was more than one way to skin a cat! She took him farther into her mouth, suffering his size as he came up against the back of her throat. Suddenly he pushed her head away from him.

"What's the matter?" she said, wide-eyed with feigned innocence. But thinking ridicule to be a better tool, she allowed her lips to slip into a wicked smile. "Afraid?" she taunted.

"Not at all," he replied in a forced tone of civility, but a muscle in his jaw was jerking violently. "I simply want more."

With that he jerked her body toward him so that she landed beside him but facing the opposite end of the bed. She knew what he was thinking and started to protest, but he raised his eyebrow with the same challenging look she had given him. And what could she do?

She was not so confident this time, as she once again took him into her mouth. His strong hands curved around her b.u.t.tocks so that he could hold her body in place as his lips and tongue descended upon her. His tongue, with the accuracy of a compa.s.s, landed directly upon the magic spot with its first touchdown. He began a firm circling motion just above and around it. She struggled to move away from her skilled adversary, but he held her firmly in place with his hands as he continued to torment her with his tongue.

She realized suddenly that she had paused in her own attack while trying to defend herself from his. She struggled desperately to gather her senses and concentrate on what had to be done. She grasped him with her lips, licking and sucking him furiously in an attempt to match the pleasure he was showering on her. He was taken aback by her vigorous a.s.sault, and his tongue paused as he tried to regain control, but only for a moment. They both shuddered and moaned from the pleasure they suffered at the hands of the other.

But neither would allow the other to be satisfied, for that would render them powerless. Instead, they repeatedly brought each other to the very precipice of release and then stopped short, hoping that the other one would make the plea that would end their torment. Cat was so aroused that Mouse could taste his pleasure, which had been seeping out in small salty drops, the excess from that which had been building up within him and was now bursting to get out. Cat, too, when pulling away from Mouse's tiny, aching membrane, would pause to submerse his tongue in her wetness, reveling in the effect he was having on her. She was so close, he knew. If he could hold out a little longer, he could enjoy these pleasures with her forever. But he realized he had to do something quick if he was going to win. He could feel himself losing control.

Stopping abruptly to change his course of action, he raised himself up over her and spread her legs wide. Her cry, when he thrust himself into her, delighted him nearly to the point of surrendering to her then and there and confessing his desire to have her. He knew it was extremely dangerous, to take her this way when he himself was so excited, but it was his only chance. He was still physically stronger than her, even if she was his s.e.xual equal. With that in mind he bit his lip and took the upper hand in the contest, forcing her excitement to grow. He placed his hand on the spot he had previously held with his tongue and rubbed gently as he drove himself relentlessly into her.

Mouse was so close. Her face was flushed, and she was panting for air. Every muscle in Cat's body strained as he struggled to maintain control, and all the while he watched her every motion with rigor. "Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed.

The moment had come. He saw the vulnerability in her face as she approached her weakest point, and he hated himself for doing it, even as he abruptly stopped the motions that she now wanted more than ever and pulled himself all the way out of her.

She stared at him in shock. Her hand reached down to touch the place that burned to be touched, but he intercepted it and held it firmly down so she could not use it. She struggled under him for a moment.

"Please!" she whispered.

"Please, what?" he asked.

His lips were so close to hers that they brushed her as he spoke. The pleasure was excruciating. Anger flashed in her eyes as she turned her face away from his warm lips and once again struggled beneath him. He slid himself back into her all the way and held himself perfectly still there. Sweat trickled down his back, and every nerve ending in his body was screaming for him to give in to her, to end this torment, but he held his ground. There were tears in her eyes.

"Tell me you want it," he said in a voice that was misleadingly gentle and kind. "That's all you have to do." She struggled again. He didn't want to lose her now.

With slow, gentle thrusts, he began again. His hand resumed its gentle caressing.

"Oh, no," she whimpered.

He smiled in spite of his agony. "Oh, yes," he replied.

Like a well-tuned musical instrument, her body responded in perfect time to his every touch. She was feverish in her struggle, and he was getting impatient. Why did she have to be so stubborn? He was going to make her a very happy wife. When his excitement began to overtake him and he came too close to the edge, he thought about losing her forever, and that was sufficient to cool his desire and hold his own needs at bay.

"That's it," he coached lovingly as she once again came perilously near the brink. "Now tell me that you want me." He pulled himself almost completely out of her again and paused.

"No!" she screamed. But she was referring to his stopping, completely unaware now of what he wanted. "Please...oh, please. Don't stop."

He didn't want to mince words at a time like this, but he couldn't have disputes over the matter later. "Tell me that you want me," he repeated.

"I..." she stopped herself. He pulled himself completely out of her.

"I..." she repeated.

He groaned loudly, thinking she had nearly as much endurance as he had. He pushed himself back into her and held perfectly still.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he pleaded.

"I...want you," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Cat wanted to comfort Mouse, but that would have to wait until later. They both had held out for way too long. He thrust himself into her again and again, thinking only to seal his victory with his final satisfaction, but suddenly he recalled the prize he had won and what it had cost her.

Using the very last grain of self-control that he possessed, he slowed his thrusts and once again busied himself with pleasing her. He could not believe, after all that, he had almost forgotten her and gotten himself off without satisfying her. Happy wife indeed!

Cat gathered his wits and held back, concentrating on giving Mouse what she needed. Soon she was again reaching the true object of her struggles. This time he brought her through to the very end, and then with a loud yell he poured himself into her with absolute relief.

They clung to each other afterward, both trembling from the experience. After a while Cat lifted himself up from her embrace to examine her face.

As Mouse regained her composure, a small blush crept over her features. But she struggled to maintain an indifferent demeanor as she boldly met Cat's eyes and said, very nonchalantly, "I must say you caught me off guard that time....What do you say to a rematch?"

Cinderella

Once upon a time there came to be a fairy-tale princess who wasn't living happily ever after. She was called Cinderella, and it happened that a number of years after marrying the prince she began to wonder if she hadn't been happier before before her meddling fairy G.o.dmother sent her to that ill-fated ball. her meddling fairy G.o.dmother sent her to that ill-fated ball.

For one thing, the once-beloved gla.s.s slippers had of late become dreadfully uncomfortable. Cinderella's feet had suffered from the rigid confines of the gla.s.s, and she could scarcely endure the pain it caused her to venture from one room to the next, let alone to go outside the castle. Any desire to roam or explore was quickly squelched by the horror of the piercing pain she would have to endure to get there.

The prince had also become a source of displeasure to Cinderella, who felt as confined in her husband's castle as her poor feet felt in the gla.s.s slippers. Oh, at first it had been terribly exciting to think that he had chosen her from among all the women of his kingdom to be his wife! When he whisked her away to become his wife, she felt that she really must love him, if for no other reason than that.

But the excitement all too quickly died, and then Cinderella was left with less pleasant sensations. The attentions that her husband bestowed upon her had seemed flattering in the beginning, but in retrospect they appeared to have very little to do with her. His desires and appet.i.tes were shocking in their frequency and strength, which ran hot until satisfied, only to dissolve too quickly into nothingness. She at once admired and resented his determination to have fulfillment of those desires. Her initial instinct and aspiration to satisfy her husband had eventually come to feel more like a task. And no sooner was the task complete than he would remove himself from her, both physically and emotionally. In the end she was left feeling isolated and even sometimes a little misused. Yet if these duties were not pet.i.tioned at all, she felt even worse, inadequate.

Besides these problems that existed when Cinderella and the prince were together, there arose equally disconcerting ones when they were apart. Cinderella, in her tedium, could not help but wonder where her husband went and what he did when he was away from her. Left out and alone, with only the crippling gla.s.s slippers for companions, she felt quite forsaken. She began to envy the prince and the things he did, and even the people he did them with.

It was all so disappointing. And Cinderella was as disappointed in herself as in everything else, for hadn't she done everything in her power to win this position as the prince's wife? Why had she and all those other young women been so actively competing for a man they hardly knew?

Worst of all was the feeling of helplessness. Cinderella was completely bewildered about what she could do to improve her situation. She still cared for the prince, she supposed, but he was not making her happy.

One day it all became too much for Cinderella to bear, and in a fit of anxiety she threw open the doors of the castle and rushed outside. The sun was s.h.i.+ning encouragement and the birds were singing a carefree tune that made everything seem possible, so, taking heart, Cinderella began to run. But her discomfort quickly overcame all else and forced her to stop her running and sit down on a nearby log. She began to weep miserably.

Suddenly there came all around Cinderella a soft, tinkling sound accompanied by little, sparkling lights. She looked up with a sense of recollection and, lo and behold, there before her was the fairy G.o.dmother of her childhood.

"What ails you so, Cinderella?" asked the kind lady.

"Oh, Fairy G.o.dmother!" exclaimed she. "I am not living happily ever after!"

Her fairy G.o.dmother was shocked. It was not customary for her to be called back by the tears of a G.o.dchild whom she had already enchanted with her powers. In fact, it had not happened to her before. She sat close to Cinderella and tenderly took both her hands up in hers, determined to find the cause of all this. Could it be that an evil witch had cast a spell on her G.o.ddaughter?

"Tell me, dear, what it is that is making you so unhappy?"

Cinderella thought for a moment. How could she explain it? It wasn't precisely that anything was making her unhappy. It was more that nothing was making her happy. Then she remembered the gla.s.s slippers. Certainly they were one source of unhappiness that she could clearly identify.

"The gla.s.s slippers that you gave me are making me very unhappy, G.o.dmother," she whimpered.

Her fairy G.o.dmother drew in a sharp breath. "Why, my dear," she cried defensively, "I was certain they were a perfect fit!" How dare the girl question her abilities?

"Well yes, but they are so confining! confining!" replied Cinderella.

Her fairy G.o.dmother was stunned into silence by that. What could she say? Who presumed that a gla.s.s slipper, or a prince's kingdom, or any other fairy-tale aspiration for that matter, would not not be confining? be confining?

"It's as if I can't be myself in those shoes," continued Cinderella. "I can't even remember who myself is."

"Ah," said the wise fairy G.o.dmother. She could not comprehend the connection this complaint had to do with the lovely gla.s.s slippers, but as it happened she was very well acquainted with the ever-prevalent issue of self-ident.i.ty. What fairy G.o.dmother wasn't these days, what with frogs who believed they were princes and wolves impersonating grandmothers? And as luck would have it, the recommended cure came in the form of two lovely slippers, the uppers of which were made from the softest part of lambs' ears, and bound together with the wispy tendons of bat wings, and all of this was soled with the rubbery tips of a thousand tiny leaping frogs' fingers. In addition to heightening the wearer's self-awareness and desires, the slippers were above all comfortable, so with a little good fortune they would cure Cinderella of everything that ailed her.

"I do have the cure," her G.o.dmother announced, "but I must give you this warning- self-discovery is a solitary activity, and the discoverer must have a care not to alienate those who matter most to them."

Cinderella nodded her head impatiently. Her fairy G.o.dmother's warning was too ambiguous to concern her overmuch, especially since she was so discontented as to try anything new, regardless of consequences.

So without further ado, her G.o.dmother waved her magic wand and lightly tapped Cinderella's feet, each in turn. They both watched with fascination as the gla.s.s slippers magically dissolved away into nothingness. Almost immediately the gla.s.s was replaced with the softest imaginable material of the palest possible pink. The exotic material weaved itself elaborately around Cinderella's feet, starting at the tips of her toes, continuing along the arch of her foot, and finally winding itself over her heel and around her ankle. Cinderella's eyes widened in amazement as the remarkable slipper took shape in a most clever design around her foot. She arched her ankle and twisted it this way and that in admiration as she watched, never having seen anything so utterly exquisite before in her life.

Now Cinderella's feet had become all but deadened from the dreaded gla.s.s slippers, but very stealthily sensation was returning to them, as a tingling awareness of the magnificently soft material encroached upon all of her foot's nerve endings. She wiggled her toes in approval, and the luscious feeling of her skin moving within the supple slippers sent s.h.i.+vers of delight all the way up her legs. She gasped and squealed with glee. Feeling as if she had the abilities and grace of a gazelle, she pushed herself up onto her toes and laughed merrily as she spread her arms wide for a pirouette. Her fairy G.o.dmother smiled as she watched Cinderella. Perhaps she would fas.h.i.+on herself a pair, too...

Later that evening, when the prince returned to his castle, he called out for Cinderella again and again, only to find, again and again, that she was not there to answer him. He was extremely concerned by this, as it had virtually never happened before, and more to the point, there were dangers always present and lurking in their kingdom. There were ogres and witches and even worse in nearby forests, lying in wait for any opportunity to infiltrate their kingdom and cause their mischief. As he searched the castle with no sign of his wife, he grew more and more concerned. Could some mishap have befallen Cinderella?

When he was certain that Cinderella was nowhere within the castle, the prince gallantly mounted his horse and rode out to find her. He circled the castle, and after that the kingdom, in increasingly larger segments, that he might cover every inch through to their borders. As he did this, he stopped at every sign of habitation to ask if anyone had seen Cinderella.

The search continued for many hours until the prince reached a certain tavern from which lively music poured forth. Frustrated and exhausted from his utter lack of success thus far, he thought the tavern an unlikely lead indeed, but unwilling to leave a single stone unturned he wearily slid himself from his horse and went inside.

The prince gasped in astonishment just as the tavern doors were closing behind him. There, directly opposite his gaping eyes, was Cinderella, laughing and dancing as if she had not a care in the world. Her expression was happier than he had seen it in several years, and his outrage was temporarily distinguished by memories of the last time she looked just that way, a long time ago, on the dance floor where they first met. It had been that look that had stolen his heart, blinding him to everything but finding her again and making her his wife.