You shake your head

You are pretty clear that you don't want to know what Sophie set up so that she could give "more of herself than the Prince has had before," because you suspect that it means more pain and humiliation. The Prince ignores your denial.

He lifts you onto the bed and lays you down. You struggle to keep your hands at your sides, because you know that, if you give in to your urge to cover yourself, the prince will be angered and probably punish you again. “My darling,” the prince says, “you have a dignity about you that shields you from me, much like your lovely golden hair shrouds you and shields you. Now, I want you to surrender yourself to me. You’ll see what that does, and will look back in wonder that you ever wept when I suggested it.”

The prince parts your legs, and you struggle not to close your legs or move your hands. As prince strokes your thighs, and kindles warmth in you that you have not felt before. He opens your lower lips widely. You are humiliated by this, and cry out, but he covers your mouth with his left hand, and begins to fondle your clitoris with the right. You struggle to not cry out as the pleasure sweeps over you. Like O, Beauty has been programmed to be highly responsive to stimulation, and you both bless and curse that fact now.

And with his right fingers, he finds that tiny nodule of flesh between your tender nether lips and he works it back and forth until you raised your hips, arching your back, in spite of yourself, and you know that your little face under his hand was the picture of distress. You love this. And you hate it. You blame Sophie for the way your body responds so eagerly. You desperately want him to stop, and to continue.

The Prince smiles. And even as he smiles, you felt the lot fluid between your legs for the first time, the real fluid which had not come before with your innocent blood. "That’s it, that's it, my darling," he says, "and you mustn’t continue to resist your lord and master, eh?"

Now he opens his clothing and takes out his hard, eager sex. Mounting you he lets it rest against your thigh as he continued to stroke you.

You twist under his ministrations and your hands gather up the soft sheets at your sides into knots, and it seems like your whole body grows pink. The nipples of your breasts look as hard as if they were tiny stores.

He bites into your nipples, playfully, and then licks them, sending shivers down your spine. He moves down your belly, and licks your sex. You try not to humiliate yourself by moaning and writhing, but fail. You blush, and struggle, but he masters you easily and mounts you, slowly thrusting himself into your pussy.

Your back arches and you shudder violently, in almost unwelcome pleasure. Why do you find this casual mastery of you so compelling, and yet your body’s reactions so humiliating? You try to cry out as you reach your orgasm, but his hand over your mouth makes your cry a mere moan. You buck against him as the orgasm crashes through your body, and you finally collapse, eyes closed, crying with humiliation over the spectacle you have made of yourself. Was that Sleeping Beauty, or yourself, who writhed so wantonly beneath the prince?

“That was lovely, my darling,” the prince says, “now open your eyes.