The Enchanted Bed
Copyright© 2026 by ChaosMagic
Chapter 3
Fairytale Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom, a well-meaning wizard gifts the Prince and his virgin bride an enchanted bed meant to ensure a night of perfect marital bliss... But when two bumbling servants prepare the royal chamber, the spell awakens with mischievous intent. A whimsical, steamy fairy tale of innocence lost and ecstasy that refuses to end until the sun rises.
Caution: This Fairytale Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Fiction Fairy Tale Humor Magic First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Tit-Fucking AI Generated
The candles in the royal bedchamber had burned down to stubs, their flames flickering like shy stars against the gathering dark. Outside, the wedding feast still thrummed in distant halls – laughter, clinking goblets, the faint strains of a lute – but within these stone walls, time had become a soft, endless dream.
Dominic and Daisy lay tangled in the ruined sheets, bodies slick with sweat and release, chests heaving. For a moment they were still, listening to each other breathe. Then the spell, ever patient, sent another warm pulse through their veins. Daisy stirred first. She stretched like a cat in sunlight, small breasts lifting, nipples still flushed and sensitive. A lazy smile curved her lips.
“Again?” Dominic murmured, voice rough from use.
“Again,” she whispered back, already reaching for him.
As they came together, the heavy oak door creaked open.
The Prince stepped through first, tall and immaculate in his midnight-blue wedding finery, the silver embroidery catching the dying firelight. Behind him came the Princess, her white silk gown shimmering like moonlight on water, the long train whispering across the flagstones. Pearls gleamed in her dark hair; her wide eyes sparkled with shy anticipation. They had slipped away from the feast at last, eager for the privacy of their honeymoon suite and the promise of their first night together.
They stopped dead on the threshold.
The bed was a scene of glorious disarray: sheets twisted and stained, pillows scattered, the air thick with the musky scent of spent passion. In the centre lay Dominic and Daisy; naked, flushed, limbs entwined, and still moving together in slow, languid rhythm. Daisy was astride him once more, rocking gently, her fair head thrown back as a soft moan escaped her lips. Dominic’s hands gripped her hips, guiding her, his red hair dark with sweat against the white linen.
For one long moment, silence reigned.
Then the Prince’s face flushed crimson. “What in the name of all the saints?” His voice cracked, rising to a boyish shout. “This is my bedchamber! My wedding night! Get out – get out at once!”
Dominic froze mid-thrust. Daisy’s eyes snapped open. They stared at the royals like deer caught in torchlight. The magic, however, cared nothing for rank or propriety. It kept their bodies moving with small, helpless rocks of hips, tiny gasps that refused to be silenced. Daisy tried to slide off Dominic, but her thighs trembled and clenched around him more tightly; he groaned despite himself, buried deep.
“We ... we didn’t mean...” Dominic stammered, attempting to sit up, then falling back. The motion drove him deeper; Daisy whimpered, head falling forward onto his shoulder.
The Princess’s cheeks bloomed pink. Her gaze darted from the servants’ joined bodies to their flushed faces, then back again. She did not look away. If anything, she took a small, involuntary step closer, the long hem of her wedding gown brushing the edge of the rug.
The Prince stamped one silk-slippered foot. “I said leave! This instant!”
Daisy managed to disentangle herself at last, rolling to one side with a breathless little cry. Dominic remained where he was, saluting the ceiling and throbbing. “We’re trying, Your Highness,” he panted, voice thick. “It’s ... the bed ... it won’t let us stop.”
The Prince’s dark eyes narrowed. “The bed? What nonsense is this?”
He strode forward, seized Dominic by the arm, and hauled him upright. Dominic stumbled, legs unsteady, his cock still half-hard and glistening. The Prince recoiled as though burned. “Out!” he roared. “Both of you! Now!”
Daisy whimpered. In the Dominic’s absence, she had resorted to frigging herself. Her legs were spread, the finger of one hand deep inside her, and the finger of her other hand dancing on that special place that made her quiver.
The Prince threw up his hands, and Dominic instantly pounced back onto the bed. The Prince turned to his Princess, who still stood near the bed, eyes wide and fixed on the cavorting figures. “Beloved, wait here. Guard the door. I’ll fetch my father. He’ll sort this madness!”
With that, he stormed out, slamming the heavy door behind him. The sound echoed like thunder. Silence fell again, broken only by the crackle of the dying fire and the soft, helpless breathing of the two servants.
Dominic straddled Daisy’s chest. His cock, hardening anew, nestled between her small, perfect swells. Daisy pressed her breasts together with her hands, creating a soft, warm channel. The sight alone nearly undid him: her flushed face, her parted lips, the way her pink nipples peeked out from between her fingers.
He thrust slowly with long, gliding strokes, watching himself disappear and reappear between the small mounds. Daisy tilted her head, tongue darting out to lick the tip each time it came near. He moved faster, hips rocking. She squeezed her breasts tighter, adding pressure. When he came, with copious, hot spurts painting her chest and throat, she moaned softly, as though the sight and feel of it pleased her as much as any touch.
And the Princess watched.