I was of marriageable age, and my wedding had been arranged. The dowry had been agreed, and although I had only met my husband to be a couple of times I was happy with my future. The ceremony was to be the next day. My mother and I had spent the morning with the priest running through the last details, and I was looking forward the day, and all it may lead to.

We left the church. A small, undistinguished carriage drew up, it’s importance only hinted at by the two fine horses that drew it. The curtains were drawn and at first I took no notice but my mother recognised it instantly, and gave me a hug and a gentle kiss. The carriage halted and a nun stepped down, beckoning me to join her. I was confused, and looked to my mother for advice. She simply smiled, kissed and hugged me again, and gestured me on my way.

There was little conversation during the short journey. I asked where we were heading and one of the nuns, the superior, said simply that I was to learn the duties and pleasures of being a wife. Her partner smiled, quietly. I had a sudden feeling that my life, which had been totally focussed on my parents and close family, was about to change dramatically.

The carriage drew to a halt and the driver opened the door. I had never been into the castle before, but I realised without difficulty where we were and guessed that whatever my business was, it would be here. I was nervous, frightened even.

We climbed out of the carriage, and were ushered though a small door. The junior nun whispered into my ear ‘You are to meet the Prince. Don’t worry, do what is asked of you and all will be well’.

I was now very nervous. Of course I had seen the prince, many times. Proud, confident, elegant, parading in command of the troops of the kingdom, mounted on a fine stallion. No-one could help but admire him and the women, of course, had their secret thoughts.

Now, for no reason that I understood, I was about to meet him. The chamber was well appointed, with a comfortable couch and with a bath, larger than I had ever seen before. There was a delicious, exotic aroma which I guessed came from the candles which provided the only light.

‘Please remove your clothes’. Although this instruction, from the superior, was surprising I was not concerned as having been brought up in a convent being naked with women was natural. ‘And enter the bath’

I did so. It was warm, in sharp contrast to any bath I had had before, and carried a wonderful aroma. I allowed myself to sink into its depths, my eyes closed. The nuns began to bath me, caressing my skin with a soft and gentle touch. The superior ran her hand down my body and, to my surprise, between my legs. A finger circled, then slowly entered my most private part – my fanny.

Of course, my body resisted her entrance, and she seemed pleased by this and nodded in affirmation to her acolyte. Nonetheless it was some while before she finally finished caressing me, and I was feeling very confused, not least because the feelings I was experiencing were both novel and very, very pleasurable.

I was gently lifted from the bath, and laid onto the couch. The women carefully selected creams and anointments, which they gently but firmly massaged into my back and, to my surprise and pleasure, my arse. Again the feeling was confused, but wonderful. Somehow my knowledge of myself was changing. I rolled over. The nuns were clearly enjoying their work, and so was I.

Delicious, exotic fragrances, the most wonderful, delicate touches, excitement and anticipation beyond anything I had previously imagined. Now I was standing, being dressed. I took little notice, everything was in a blur. Finally the nuns stood me before a mirror. I was in a fine, delicate wrap which covered one shoulder and revealed the other. My hair was loosely tied up in an equally delicate ribbon. I felt like a princess, and the nuns gave me, then each other, a hug of congratulation.

The passage was short and the curtain at the end heavy. It was parted for me. The room was dimly lit – a few lamps in alcoves in the walls and a warm log fire. Slowly I made out the furnishings, a small table with chairs, a great couch covered with embroidered cushions. I sensed I was not alone but could see no-one in the dim light.

I was very nervous, scared. Slowly, hesitantly, I moved toward the centre of the room. As my eyes acclimatised to the dim light I made him out. I recognised the Prince immediately, of course. But now not the knight on a fine horse but a man standing by the fire holding a silver goblet, beckoning me to join him.

Suddenly I was terrified – but I had no choice. He filled another goblet, and I sipped. ‘You are a fine looking girl, my nuns have chosen well. I shall enjoy you.’ A complement indeed, even if I did not understand it. Nonetheless a complement from such a fine gentleman must be taken as such. Fine gentleman he was, indeed. Dressed in a white toga trimmed with gold, fastened with a jewelled clasp at his shoulder, trimmed to halfway down his thighs, loose sandals.

My eyes, naturally lowered to avoid contact with his, rested on his legs. Strong, broad thighs, oiled from the way they gleamed. He drew me to him and with a gentle but firm touch raised my chin so that I had no option but to look him straight in the eye.

His lips pressed to mine. Slowly, irresistibly, his tongue parted my lips and met mine. He was exploring me in a way I had never known before, and I found that I was exploring him. After a few moments of embrace we parted, sat down and I took a long draft of my wine. He refilled my goblet, and we began to talk. Of everything, and nothing. He asked me about my family, and told me about his adventures. I was in awe, to be in the company of such a great man.

‘I shall call you my peach’ he said ‘You are so delicate to my touch’ He drew me to my feet and again pressed his lips to mine which parted to accept him, willingly, eagerly. His hands were exploring me, every intimate detail of me. My arse, my breasts, my fanny. At first I resisted, but this was futile and in any case I was feeling a powerful attraction to him, and great pleasure in his caresses.

I felt my hair fall to my back, and I let my arms wrap around him. We held each other close for a long, passionate embrace. We separated and I suddenly realised that my gown had fallen from me. I was completely naked, with the prince of all people. I moved to cover my breasts and fanny with my hands, but he intercepted me. He lifted my arms from me, looking admiringly at my exposed body.

‘My peach, you are indeed a most lovely girl.’ He moved me toward the couch, and we embraced again. I heard a thump as something fell to the floor, and took no notice. He sat me down, and as he withdrew I realised that he, too, was naked. When I was a child I had seen my brothers and his friends when we played in the river, but since my breasts had begun to show I had not been allowed to see a naked man. Now I saw the mightiest in the land.

My eyes were transfixed by his manhood. Strong, powerful and standing slightly proud from his body. ‘In my armoury I have many swords of pain and death. This is my sword if pleasure, and life. Take it’ He wrapped my fingers around it. Even as I touched it I felt it strengthen, harden. A drop of moisture formed on the tip, gleaming in the dim light then falling to leave a gossamer thread, which then vanished. Another drop formed, and I realised that it was my touch which was their cause. I moved my hand, the soft skin moving easily against the now rigid stem of his sword.

His lips were all over me. Now my breasts, now my fanny. I had a feeling of deep desire. I didn’t know what it was that I wanted, but I wanted it, needed it more than anything I had desired before in my life. Slowly I realised than what I desperately needed was this man, this beautiful, powerful shaft, inside me. But how?

‘Now I am ready for you.’ His manhood was pressed against my fanny, exploring me as is if to find my weak spot, my vulnerability. How could this great, solid shaft ever enter my poor little wee slit? How ever much I wanted him to!

He was now pushing hard into me, and hurting me. I clung to him, squealing both in pain and in frustration. I desperately wanted him but my poor body wouldn’t – couldn’t - take him.

‘You resist me, my little peach.’ His voice was harder now, almost angry. ‘That is good. A hard fought battle yields the most gratifying victory. But I shall take you, and I shall take you - now.’ He gave a sudden thrust. I almost screamed with the pain, but almost immediately that eased, and I felt the innermost depths of my body part to accept him, close around him.

‘Ah, my little one. A few moments ago you were a maiden, now you are a mistress. My mistress. Let us dance.’ He moved, as if to withdraw from me. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, clung on to him. I couldn’t let him leave me now. He thrust back into me, almost taking my breath. Again and again he pushed, in a slow regular rhythm. A wonderful tension built deep within me.

Instinctively, I moved my body to match his thrusts. As these were getting more forceful, my tension became almost unbearable. Suddenly I released, wave after wave of unbelievable pleasure exploded through me, from my innermost depth to my toes and fingertips. My whole world seemed to exist just for this moment. I was oblivious of anything else.

Slowly I became aware of myself again. My Prince, this lovely man, was still thrusting into me, his movements now even more powerful. ‘Well done, my little peach. Not many girls reach this far so soon. Now I shall take my own pleasure.’ His voice was now powerful, deep, commanding. His thrusts were powerful, his breathing hard, broken. I sensed he was close to his own climax. I was as close to another of my own.

‘Yes, Yes, Yes.’ Loud cries, each with a his most powerful thrust. Through my ecstasy I was vaguely aware that he was filling me, something was rippling through my deepest body as his life force pulsed within me.

Slowly we calmed, he finished his movements and rolled off me. I rolled with him, nestling into his shoulder and chest, listening to his heart and breath, watching as his wonderful manhood which had given me so much pain then exchanged it, almost instantly, with the most intense and powerful pleasure. He slipped his hand between my legs, his fingers deep inside me. He passed them to his lips, then to mine. ‘My fountain of life, with the blood of your maidenhead. A potent mixture indeed’ We kissed, shared wine, and fell asleep.