Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories For Women. Nancy Madore

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      I dedicate this book to you.

      NANCY MADORE

      Enchanted

      Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      Foreword

      It is amazing how confused everyone seems to be about women’s sexuality, including women. Women’s magazines are constantly giving advice about how women can better please their men (and where to find the products to help them do it), while women’s TV bombards us with horror stories about how terrible men are—and thrown in the middle of all this we have myriads of dazzling female sex symbols supposedly forging a path for our total sexual empowerment. So why are increasing numbers of women reporting an overwhelming uninterest in sex? Why isn’t sex fun for women anymore?

      In my opinion, these self-proclaimed representatives of female sexuality in the media are alienating women sexually, by exploiting them, tearing down their self-esteem and raising their expectations of themselves to unattainable highs while lowering their expectations of men to ridiculous lows. When a popular female icon starves herself, alters herself, misrepresents herself, sells herself, exploits herself, etc., she is contributing to the overall standards that influence how women are viewed by men and how they view themselves.

      It is my belief that to really empower women sexually (or in any other part of their life, for that matter) we need to stop trying to control or change them. We must accept them exactly as they are. When women feel good about themselves they feel better about sex. Sex is not a market that is cornered by a select few. All women have it within them to be sexual, although it lies dormant in many of us because of the damage done by our culture and media. It can be reawakened, but only through total acceptance of who we are. We need to feel safe being sexual without the fear of being exploited, changed, categorized, punished, shamed or degraded.

      I thought erotic stories written especially for and about women might help, and the results of my efforts are the stories you find here. They are based on the real fantasies of women, as they are, without censure. Do not be alarmed if you find a fantasy or two that is not quite “correct” from every point of view. Bear in mind that I have carefully selected these fantasies from the most popular according to my research. Accepting these fantasies will not harm the movement for women’s equality, since equality can be achieved only through acceptance.

      And so I have accepted and even embraced women’s fantasies and written about them as honestly and fully as I was able. Keeping in mind that I was writing for women, I empowered my heroines in ways that would not compromise the fantasies or the reader. Recognizing her desire for romance, I added passion and tenderness to make the sexual fantasies more meaningful. I forbore the tendency so many writers have to make their heroines unnaturally beautiful and “perfect.” The male characters carry more than their share of the fantasies, and the female characters are written so that the reader can easily imagine herself into the starring role. The stories are highly erotic, but completely without the profanity and vulgarity that often accompany sexual material. The characters are the long-ago friends that most of us grew up with in Grimm’s and other fairy tales. In place of the old, outdated maxims of the original fairy tales I have slipped in a few modern adages of my own.

      Naturally, it was not possible to include every woman’s fantasy in this book. I chose only the most common and straightforward for my fairy tales, and I hope that those of you who are more original and creative than the rest of us will forgive me for leaving yours out. Every fantasy is not for everyone, but it is my own personal fantasy that you find the stories exciting and entertaining.

      Thank you for reading Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women.

      Beauty and the Beast

      My name is Beauty. It is likely that you have heard of me. My story, or rather, the one they tell of me, has been told too many times to count. But that is not really my story at all. The particulars have been disregarded entirely. I would have thought that with all the telling of it someone would have, just once, stumbled upon the truth. And perhaps some of you did read between those illusory lines and suspect the truth, incredible and shocking as it is. Or maybe the truth is really too fantastic to believe. I admit there are times when I can hardly believe it myself, and it all seems like a faraway dream.

      In fact, some of what has been put down in the various accounts of my life is true, for, in order to save my poor father’s life, I did consent to live with a fearsome creature that was more beast than man. It is also true that I fell in love with the Beast. As for what happened after that, the storybooks are quite accurate in their exposition for the Beast, immediately upon my avowal of love, was released from an evil curse and returned to his original form as a charming prince. We were married that very day.

      But that is where the similarities between the legends you have read and my own incredible narrative end. For I have not lived “happily ever after” since that day.

      You see, I miss my Beast.

      As I languish here within the lonely halls of this castle, my mind often drifts back to the very first day I spent here. It was with much trepidation that I left my bedchamber that day, very cautiously, to make my way through the vast corridors that twist and turn throughout this fortress. Despite much speculation over the matter (for I had slept not one wink the night before), I could not imagine why the Beast had requested my presence there. I spent the day alone, wandering in and out of rooms and exploring the unfamiliar surroundings, while trying to guess what was in store for me.

      This is not to say that I came to the great castle of the Beast against my will, for I was quite anxious to leave the poverty and boredom of my childhood behind me, and so when obligation awarded me this adventure, I was not entirely dissatisfied.

      I could not have said what a castle should look like, but it seemed to me that everything I saw was exactly as it should be. Very austere-looking ancestors silently gazed down at me from the lofty positions where their portraits hung superciliously upon the walls. Other walls displayed splendidly woven tapestries of French picnics, Italian vineyards and other exotic affairs. The furniture was intricately carved from the finest lumber, and the carpets were extravagantly thick and colorful. In short, everything was quite extraordinary in its elegance and splendor.

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