It was almost dusk when our Roland awoke from a sleep pleasantly troubled by the images of willing girls throwing themselves at him in order to sample his skills at passion and amour. As those images slipped away, he came to consciousness aware that an extremely enjoyable sensation was taking place down by his groin.
With a start he realised that he was lying on his back, and that the sensation was that of a mouth engulfing him down to the root of his engorged manhood. In shock he started to lift himself up, only to feel a girl's hand on his chest push him back down. He had seen the golden curls and wavy locks of his sleeping beauty, and so he smiled and lay back...happy to receive this unusual but welcome service. And then shot up again with a cry.
The hand that had pushed him down had not been hers, but had appeared from one side. He looked over in shock, and saw a cute pert nosed brunette with laughing eyes and cherry red lips grinning at him. With a soft country lilt she spoke to him.
"Fear not, O brave Sir Roland. I am Madeline; maid to the fair Rosanna. She was, until your arrival, a beautiful princess cursed to slumber in this bed until awakened by a brave and worthy knight. Now, as you can tell, my lady has a desire to show her deep gratitude in sundry ways, and I am here to serve both of you in whatever way I can."
Roland could have sworn that the look in the wenches' eyes was offering service of a very personal nature. However, he decided that discretion was the better part of valour.
"In that case", he announced, as regally as any man could who is receiving oral sex from a very skillful lover, "I will have a goblet of white wine to quench my thirst."
"And what my Master wishes he shall receive, of course", the maid purred as she rose from her kneeling position beside the bed and made her way to a table laid with all manner of fine refreshments.
Even though distracted by the sweet Rosanna below who was about to receive a second helping of his manly gift, he couldn't help but notice how Madeline's tight laced bodice emphasised the fullness of her breasts and slimness of her waist. As she moved, it was with a sway of the hips that held his eyes...and thinking about bending her over the table and thrusting into her cunny caused him to spurt out his cream into Rosanna's mouth. As he came, he cried out, and Madeline paused to look back over her shoulder with a coquettish smile, thrusting her bottom out at him.
"Well, good Sir Knight, it seems that you have some stamina in you."
Rosanna had now released his softening cock and was sliding up the bed towards him, licking her lips like a very satisfied kitten.
"And I see that you have made the acquaintance of my very helpful maid."
"I am only obeying your instructions, as always my mistress, and looking after your guest in any way I can."
Madeline had returned with two generous golden goblets of cool wine sprinkled with sherbet, and after serving her Master and Mistress, sank to her knees again at his side.
Feeling sated and content, Roland sipped his wine and sank back into the cushions with Rosanna cuddled into his arms.
"So tell me," he said idly, "how was it that you were cursed to slumber in this bed until I came to rescue you?"
Rosanna shifted in his arms, moving her slim body until she could look up into his eyes. Madeline sat back, a watchful expression in her eyes.
"It was all the fault of my mother the Queen.", Rosanna started. "She said that she wanted the best for me, and so it was that on my naming day, she invited wise witches from all over the kingdom to grant me naming day gifts. One granted me beauty, and another wealth. A third gave me health and another grace. However, my mother had neglected to invite the oldest witch. It was because she considered her too old and cranky and she said that the old bat smelled. However, the old witch had found out about the naming day and turned up anyway. Knowing that the other gifts prevented her from hurting me physically, she decided to hurt me in another way. According to my mother the old woman had stood over my cot and sang:
'Beauty and health,
grace and wealth,
she shall have to the end of her days.
But when she's eighteen,
and soon to be queen,
from a prick she shall sleep always.'