Princess Carry Pose Novels & Stories

{AVELINE} "AVELINE, pour some tea into my cup!" Princess Octavia commanded. I immediately followed her order. I approached the table where the three princesses were sitting. I took the tea pot and carefully poured tea into her cup. She was busy admiring herself in her handheld mirror that she always carried everywhere. Before I could turn away, Princess Viviana grabbed my attention. "Aveline, bake us some cookies. I want to eat right now," she demanded.

“I’m going to carry you. It will require me to touch you behind your back and under your legs. Is that okay?” She nodded again. Andrew wrapped one arm behind Princess Aurora’s back and the other beneath her legs, behind the bend of her knees. “Okay, I’m going to lift you now, on the count of three. One…two…three!” In one smooth, effortless movement, Andrew lifted Princess Aurora into a princess carry. She wrapped her arms around his neck to stabilize herself and placed her head on his shoulder, making herself comfortable in the stance. “I’m going to take you to my car, and then we’re going to go see a doctor friend of mine,” Andrew explained.

The sun's light illustrated the princess's breathtaking features, such as her amethyst eyes, porcelain skin, and pink rosy lips. In terms of height, the princess was taller than Maria. Her very posture was perfect as she wore a lavender corset-inspired blouse with frills. Adorning the middle of her chest was a line of gold buttons with a light green band-like cloth worn around her waist, decorated with pastel flower designs.

It's off-shoulder but the cleavage won't be visible. She imagined herself wearing that gown as she looked at it. But before she could grab it, a hand also touches the dress as she laid her hand on it.

Watching Jessica walk away from me, her hips swaying side to side, I groan and palm the bulge in my pants, my cock already hard and wanting to be free from the jeans I wore. I never would have thought that having her snuggled against me would turn me on so badly, yet I was struggling to not do anything more to my Princess other than play with her hair and rub her back. She just went through hell today and needs her Uncle Hunter, not a man ready to bend her over and worship her like the Queen she is.

Princess Reda yelled, placing it on Cenda's phone stand as they all made a pose in front of the camera so it can pick them all at once, Tabrett pouted with her two hands on her cheek, Princess Faricenda rolled her eyes holding her teddy bear, Princess Reda flipped her hair backwards showing one of her dimple while Dama raise her brow up and bites her lower lips in a seducing manner with the 'fuck you' sign. They all ate another round of food and slept off, looking like cute four sisters with the birthday girl in their middle and her teddy bear strapped under her breast, her hands clasping it tightly.

He watched the body doing the performing. She — the princess — walked with her weight slightly forward. A soldier's walk, not a courtier's. The careful, rolling movement of someone who'd learned to move quietly and quickly and stop on a coin. Her posture was practiced, he could see that — someone had coached the softness into her shoulders, the slight openness of her hands. But beneath it, underneath the silk and the learned ease, there was a spine that didn't know how to defer. Interesting. He kept his expression neutral. Let her come to him.

When I just blink at her for the fifth time, she gives up and lets out a sigh. “Posture, Hailey! Chest out, chin up, and back straight.” Carolina gave me a strict smile and I quickly shook my bones and stiffen my body up. “Not that stiff, Hailey.” She corrects me again and I try not to roll my eyes at all the absurd rules. Shouldn’t a Queen be able to sit and stand however she wants? Wouldn’t they be the ones to have to adjust to her?

(WanKe/XingXing is addressed as SHE) Third Person P.O.V She falls forward on his chest still standing in his hold. Holding her head Feng Lei bends a little low and lifts her legs away from the floor carrying her bridal style, his eyes fixed on her face his every single part of the body not willing to move away from her. Walking slowly towards the room he places her on the bed, taking the folded bedsheet he spreads it on her body as the weather is getting cold.

We lined up before a raised dais draped in black velvet. The prince sat at the center. Reclined in his tall chair like he had all the time in the world, one leg crossed over the other, shadows clinging to him like a second cloak. Even lounging, there was a sharpness to him — something coiled and dangerous beneath the lazy posture.