Fifty Shades of a Princess

by Ann Abrams

  Willz seemed to have something stuck in his throat, he kept swallowing and spluttering as though he’d swallowed one of those extra large African flies. She offered him some water and he sucked half her bottle down.

  “Um, rather, um, uck,” he said

  “Yes, Willz,” she did her Di face for the first time with Willz and wondered whether it was a bit sick or magical to do it on her son. He didn’’t seem to notice.

  “Rugger it. Fug it, um, Kates,” he said eloquently.

  “Yes,” she wanted to say spit it ruddy out, but girls should let men speak, and not interrupt all the time.

  “It’s um, like, you know.”

  “Yes, you know Willz, I’d do anything for you.”

  “Great Kates! You’re a real star,” he replied and gave her one of his tongue shoving kisses. Something important had been agreed or decided, she just wasn’t sure what. She looked out over the cute little villages and shanty towns that had accumulated at the base of the mountain, you could even see a few tacky skyscrapers in the distance which was pretty damn impressive for Africa. With all this before her she felt quite regal.

  Willz had stopped by for a back door snack in the night and Kate’s thighs felt somewhat stretched, she was glad she had such a pert little nose as it didn’t get at all squashed when Willy was going at it like a tank commander. He had oiled up his jolly thingy with plenty of baby oil which is all they could find, without alerting the ginger ape to their plans, he always had all sorts of disgusting stuff. Doing it Italian style really did make her prince happy, he let himself go for once, and his grinding teeth and bulging eyes were quite a sight in the mirrors of the bathroom when he insisted on round two with her “brilliant bum”, wow that was quite a compliment coming from the taciturn future king. She had made her sacrifice and was getting quite used to Willz’s fun in the botty, although she did always need the longest luxe bath with some super essential oils to feel clean again.

  She still wasn’t confident about what the big talk had been about, but it was like things were back on, and she was in pole position, even if there was never going to be any normal lovemaking till they were married, and she suspected little of it even then, but you always had to expect a little turbulence at the heights she was flying at.

  They set off cross country with the security team trailing behind them churning up dust on the bush roads. Willz was totally luvvy duvvy and even put his arm round her. Anscrudder was beetroot with envy when he saw this as they loaded up, and pretended to be enjoying Hezza swinging Pipz round with her legs splayed round his neck. In his revoltingly vulgar way he kept shouting “I can smell her muff! ” and something which did actually make Kate and Willz laugh, “I love the smell of dirty muff in the morning,” which was something from a film she hadn’t seen, she always fell asleep in foreign films. PW put a stop to the clowning by saying, “He’s not related to me,” which made everyone go silent, and Willz didn’t even bother saying it was a joke, which it probably was.

  So they saw like a million zebras, and rhino, and lots of deer or springboks or wildebeest, they’re kind of dull and the same, the hippos were huge and scary, and you could see Willz, Anscrudder, and Hezza were just itching to kill some of them, there seemed to be plenty of wildlife, and it was just the PC palace that was spoiling the fun. Pipz fell asleep and didn’t even wake up for the elephant family which made Kates think of what her and Willz’s children would look like, she hoped they’d have her hair and not be so gray and hairy as Babar (LOL). They camped in quite cool tents which literally had their own air conditioning units, and the chefs prepared another amazing Braii, they had kept a load of huge langoustines fresh all that way.

  When she and Willz were curling up in their tent, it was weird how without saying anything everyone knew she was his again, Hezza did a running jump onto it, but it was so big and strong that he just bounced off. Willz was actually pissed off and went outside and talked to him in a low voice, and one of the security gave him a ticking off too. Thank God, King minus two, was tired from all the trekking around being quiet looking at four legged things which you couldn’t ruddy kill, and so didn’t do any more Italian style love making, which she wished was more Italian style with antipasto and a nice view of the Tuscan Hills, she felt like her kitty door needed a rest and he might stretch it out of shape like a man with a big head pulling out the neck on your favourite cashmere jumper. She had sort of brought up the disgusting subject with mummy, who said a girl at her school, which was like a grammar school or something, so very different, anyway this girl had done it like that and then wasn’t able to control herself going to the loo. Mummy wasn’t sure whether she’d got better, as she’d also dropped out of school. Mummy said it was fine if you didn’t do it too frequently and that you should never say no to your Prince, just gently persuade him that there were other pleasures in life.

  Nose Job

  It was every little girl’s dream. Even little girls that grew up in democracies and republics dream the same. To marry a dashing prince. But Kate wasn’t just lucky, there was a kind of divine right, one that is revealed to you as you become a prefect at prep, play that lady who is lucky enough to give birth to Jesus in the Christmas play and become head girl at the bestest school in the world.

  To be fair Kate felt kind of tired. Sore too. Willz had just been round to play in her back yard. She’d suggested that the front garden would be nicer, it was sunny there and she’d given the grass a trim. Oh no, not a scorched earth policy, that was so vulgar, but a nice manicured lawn. Neat and pretty. But no. He’d said something about being fundamentally Greek, that this was the Greek way, and his grandfather would approve. “I thought he was German” she’d bleated out. “No, you silly wench, that was my grandmother,” he’d roared. She’d thought it best not to say another word, and resolved to check it all on yahoo answers when she had the time. It surely couldn’t be true that England was once run by a German and a Greek.

  She should feel more happy, happier. Willz had shown her a ring. It was enormous. Apparently it had belonged to some Pope or other and was exceedingly valuable, and had to have its own insurance policy underwritten by the government, which didn’t make sense as she thought they owned that too. Kate had prepared for this moment, and had put on her best Di face. PW had looked at her quizzically. It wasn’t Diana’s ring, but was she happy about that? They hadn’t talked about it, in fact it was like a huge white elephant in their relationship, that ring, the commoner’s sapphire. Somewhere deep inside Kate felt perhaps that wearing a ring that was scoffed at by the upper echelons of the Royal Family might make her appear foolish in their eyes, and she certainly didn’t want that to happen. And a ring that was worn by a pope might potentially be worth more. But it was very ugly. It had a big red stone and the metal looked like gilded cast iron.

  “Kiss my ring Kate, and you one day will be queen.” Willz had guffawed. He was so funny and manly and kingly when he put on that regal voice. Kate giggled nervously and leant forward.

  “No, silly wench, my ring ring, my big pinky ring.” he demanded.

  She couldn’t see another ring and looked at his face.

  “Come on do it, Hezza will be here in a mo.”

  Kate tried to think what her mother would tell her to do in this situation. Here was the future king of England, proposing to her with a massive ruby but demanding that she kiss, she thought he meant, his botty hole. Various images flashed through her mind: the bay pony she’d had as a child, an action man figure belonging to her younger brother who appeared briefly but disappeared to be replaced with a huge chocolate cake at a five year old’s birthday party.

  The botty kissing was a compromise on the full English, it was a half-way house, one more step up. She’d do it. Once there and once the powerful monarchical thighs had pincered her in place, the ring actually came in useful. She focussed on it. It was bright and garish but clearly very important and valuable.

  Their embrace was shattered by a large bang out
side, followed by some shouting and then another. Hezza it turned out had managed to procure a huge Victorian elephant gun and someone to load it for him. A large monkey puzzle tree nearby was missing large chunks of bark.

  “Fugging manic, Hezza hold up.” Willz shouted before flinging the ring at Kate.

  “Oh BTW Kates,” he said at the flap of the tent. I want you to get your nose done before we announce anything. It’s fugging ridiculous.”

  Kate goes clubbing

  It was like totally naff and really funny at the same time. There were these cocktails which came in massive dry ice boxes, or something, steaming with huge ruddy umbrellas sticking out of them, and they had like 50 shots of vodka, rum, and gin, and little depth chargers of tequila floating on boats in them, that’s how big they were, like gigantic cocktails with their own shots. They cost about £400 EACH! And each room was themed with like a Roman, or Hawaiian scene and you could only go in the really exclusive ones if you knew the right people, I mean Anscrudder and a bunch of the really party CrEtonians had founded it so their people could go somewhere and not get totally papped which is such an arse.

  So after the whole bust up over the FEB, or Full English Breakfast, Kate thought she knew exactly what to do, mum always said to show them there are other options. And the ginger ape was always hanging out there and would be sure to delight in telling big bro that Kate had been like gang raped by thirty Russian Billionaires or South African Ruggereians, or that she got off with a couple of black guys, old Hezza was hilarious like that at making stuff up.

  Actually Anscrudder had always been into her. And he came out looking pretty handsome and tanned in a really nice shirt that was obviously made to measure and showed off his slim waist and nice shoulders to perfection, he had great hair too, no sign of it thinning, it was wavy and chestnut brown and shiny like a conker.

  “Hey Kates,” he said, since Willz had given her that inventive nickname everyone in their circle had picked up on it. “Bloody sorry about you and Number 1 son, he can be a bit of a headache with girls sometimes, you know, a bit demanding.” Kate blushed and gave him her Princess Di look, which she had recently perfected in less than an hour in the mirror, comparing pics on her iphone. Head down eyes up summed it up, and it made guys totally melt.

  “Well I couldn’t really comment on that,” she said thinking that Royals really valued discretion and this would be a point to her.

  He took her manfully on to the dance floor, and threw some hilarious shapes, like Willz would try, and Hezza would do and then knock people over, and she whispered in his ear which smelled of some kind of really great bespoke aftershave, umm, citrus and patchouli with maybe vanilla.

  “Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” it was his nightclub after all, much better than Waikiikki, the overly ironic Dave’s, or those old folk places like Mirabelles, she had once been somewhere in Shoreditch and it had been disgusting. And pretentious. She did another Di face for practice and she could see him getting really hot for her. He took her hand and brushed it against his Acne jeans and although no Willz he was definitely getting very woody about her Di face.

  They went in a little room which was absolutely covered in mirrors with white leather banquettes and zebra carpet, probably made from skins that Anscrudder had shot himself, although there was no sign of bullet holes in them, maybe he’d shot them through the eye, he was an excellent shot. Anscrudder told a couple who were like eating each other’s neck to f off out of there, which was pretty cool, he really was the boss. And they had it to themselves. Anscrudder got a little packet out of his wallet, and began shuffling powder into line with his black Amex.

  “Um it doesn’t agree with me, it just blocks me up,” said Kate, thinking of CCTV images in the tabs which would ruin her princess career just like that.

  Anscrudder gave her an appraising look, and said, “More for me! It’s fugging good stuff like pure as you Kates, though and this is an 18th century silver snort-pipe used by Byron, or some poet like that.” He really was quite brainy. Willz had said he might have some Jewish in him, his great gran (LOL) had emigrated from Germany and they’d been in banking, their last name had probably been something like AnscrudSTEIN or something. But who actually cared, she wasn’t going to marry him.

  She let him kiss her but when he tried to rip her tight jeans off she wriggled free. He really was quite attractive though and smelled divine, but she wasn’t going to go down on him, although he kept pushing her head in that direction, more red top pictures flashed through her head, it was really enough to be seen going into the VVIP private room with him, it was unnecessary to actually do anything disgusting. You just could not be too careful between mobile phones and CCTV it was political correctness gone wild, and daddy said we might need a real King again one day to sort the mess that Blair and the like had made, they just wanted to take the money off people who’d earned it and give it to lazy people so they could watch TV all day.

  Anscrudder was peed off with her not giving him much, he unzipped his great jeans and got out his not very regal sausage, and got her hand on it, but she pulled it away like she’d touched hot metal.

  “I’m not ready for this now, but maybe soon,” she did another Di face, and Anscrudder got really red in the face.

  “Fugging prick tease, I mean what’d you think we’d do in here, like I can see why Willz is totally bored of you.”

  That was it, she stalked off in quite a cool way, and the picture of her leaving the club in the Evening Standard were pretty good, although they did say she looked tired and emotional, but she thought she looked thin. And she knew that PW would be hot jealous over her and Anscrudder, who he seemed to think was crafty and certainly likely to make a lot more money than him, serious hedgie money, not just civil list stuff and a bunch of paintings you couldn’t even sell.

  Leave me alone

  Kate wept to her mother. “I mean we’re split up and they’re still following me around. I can’t even do my internship at Mulberry without a gang of Paps all surrounding me as I get my Pret,” said Kate.

  “It’s awful, we need a strong leader to put a stop to this invasion of privacy, it’s not like you wanted to be famous like some awful Liverpudlian singer on X factor, you just met a fellow student and fell in love. What could be more natural and lovely than that? It really is criminal, don’t worry darling, daddy and I will protect you, and if not our solicitors will.” Kate looked at her mother’s rather too blue eye shadow and thought she really should tone down the air hostess look if they were ever really going to weekend at Sandringham or Balmoral.

  Since their latest “Full English” break up, Kate had avoided the papers. And in the latest almost-might-be-true interview from Willz, Pipz had told her that he’d said that he didn’t have a girlfriend and that guys needed to have ‘some fun’ before they settled down, which basically meant he was screwing anything that wasn’t nailed down. She knew she loved her prince but she couldn’t literally stomach his special tastes. It was in his hands now, probably in some slut’s hands, yuck.

  He’d sent her some gizmos to play with from his Amazon account which was in the name of William H P Sauce, which sounded more like a Hezza joke name. She’d opened the box at breakfast with mummy and daddy, and they’d looked curiously at the range of battery powered gadgets and their accompanying organic “moisturizers”. Dad had gone pale as an Egyptian cotton sheet, and mummy, who’d seen most things on the big jets, suppressed a giggle. The note had read “ Kates, keep practicing! LOL,” he sometimes forgot which acronym meant lots of love.

  She remembered hearing about Squidgygate where big ears had wanted to be that woman’s, ug yuck, tampax, which was just so gross when they were so old, and he had Di who was like a total babe. Perhaps it was all genetic. In which case given their breeding, it must be in some way noble and good.

  When the folks were at some dreadful function for wholesalers of Christmas cards, she got the box off the top of her wardrobe and put it on her
beautiful four poster bed. Gross. She was feeling a little bit sensual though and she drew the curtains. From her full length stand-alone mirror she could see how thin and attractive she looked, the whole break up thing was doing wonders for her weight. Her hair was long, glossy, and chestnut brown. She felt a little liberated and light headed and took her clothes off. Wow! Her silver gray Stella McCartney briefs and bra really were perfect against her smooth hairless golden skin, mums and her had taken a week in Barbados to cheer themselves up, the bra was lacy with a little structure but not at all slutty. The pants were brief, but not like a horrid thong, she turned and looked at her pert bottom, it too was taut but not yucky and muscular, and there were absolutely no stretch marks.

  She felt tingly and experimentally took off her bra to look at her small but shapely boobies. She was flushed and her nips stood to attention in the change of temperature, ruddy men always thought it was coz girls were excited, but they were very cute as though rouged and not gross and huge like saucisson slices. Well in for a penny in for a pound, she slid of her silky silk panties, and although she found all of it down there a bit disgusting normally, it really didn’t look like a piece of raw steak, or a big bush, or dog food, she didn’t really know why men wanted to lick it and touch it so much. She let one finger with its manicured nail drift towards the danger zone, and then quickly drew it back.

  The house was empty and centrally heated, so she was all right going downstairs totally nude, mum and day had loads of land and high hedges too. In the walnut drinks cabinet she found a bottle of sweet pink lovely sloe gin and poured herself a double. Delicious. The thick pile wool beige carpet felt delicious on the soles of her small feet as went back up the stairs. She lay on the bed, and slightly heady, she let her hand touch her front botty. She even squeezed a little of the organic “moisturizer” onto it and began to quite let go of her inhibitions. When the slutty girls had talked about playing with themselves at school she had always found it disgusting, and she had only ever had one of those hydrated dreams once in her life, about Willz of course.