Coup D'etat (The Alpha Prince) Book 3

by C. T. Sloan

  The Prince pulls me up by my hair and walks me up to the balcony doors. He pushes me into the doors, forcing them to slam open. “I want to fuck your little body as I watch the sunrise over my realm,” the Prince demands as he bends me over the balcony railing. He spreads my legs apart and pushes his hard dick deep into my wet pussy.

  I feel the Prince pull on my hair as he rails me from behind. I scream like I am being murdered. The Prince punctuates every one of my screams with a punitive slap on the ass. “Your screams are beginning to irritate my ears!” the Prince says.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I can not help it. Your dick feel so fucking big inside me.”

  “I know how to cure this problem. Stand there, grab the railing and don’t you move an inch. Keep your legs spread apart and keep your ass up in the air,” the Prince demands.

  I hold onto the rail and eagerly await what the Prince has in store for me. I feel a sudden slap on my backside. The pain is sharp. I know right away that the Prince is holding a leather strap in his hands. He takes that strap and holds it over my mouth. He pulls on the strap like a harness and begins to ride me hard. I bite down on the leather. The Prince pulls on the strap harder and harder until I feel the restraint push hard against my lips. There is so much pain and pleasure running through my body that I feel like I am about to overload.

  I came close to exploding in complete orgasm. The Prince pulls out and takes the leather away from my mouth. I fall to the ground. The Prince grabs my wrists and ties my hands behind my back. Then he gets on top of me. I feel his hands reach under and cup my breast as he plows me against the ceramic tiles of his royal balcony. The warm sun feels go against my body, while Prince Julian’s big dick feels even better inside me!

  Prince Julian screams and bites my shoulder. I cum. We both moan our approval as our bodies shake and sweat against each other’s skin. My lover unties my wrists. He turns me over and kisses my neck. I feel his hands all over my body. Prince Julian owns me. He can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. I have learned to completely submit to his power.

  The Prince picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. He carries me to his bath. We get inside. “May I wash your body, Your Highness?” I ask.

  “Only if you agree to wash my cock with your mouth.”

  “As you command, Prince Julian.”

  I grab the sponge and rub soap all over my lover’s strong, sleek body. His flat stomach always turns me on. Those strong legs only complement the powerful and pleasurable cock between them.

  I get between the Prince’s legs. He sits back in the tub and run his hands over my shoulders. I grab that dick and stroke it. I feel the Prince get nice and thick in my little right hand. I kiss the tip and begin to lovingly lick my lover’s cock. I use my other hand to play with his balls. Then I open my mouth and go for it.

  The Prince moans slightly. It’s that kind of moan that makes me know that I am doing my job well. Tonight is a big night for the Prince. I want to make him relaxed and ready so I give him the best possible blowjob that I can possibly perform. I go all the way down on that dick. I hold my deep-throat position until I feel the Prince heavy breathing. Then I proceed to slide my mouth, up and down that dick, at full speed.

  The Prince grabs my head. He moans. He cums in my mouth. I take every ounce of his royal seed and keep on sucking.

  “Amy! Amy!” the Prince moans.

  Oh yeah, keep calling my name. I suck off Prince Julian until he has finally had enough. The Prince pulls my head off of his cock and rolls to his side. I can’t help but smile. The Prince has surrendered to my epic blowjob!

  ***

  Just as the Prince begins to get dressed, he is is disturbed by a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” the Prince asks.

  “Your Highness, the chef requests the honor of your presence,” the voice says through the door.

  “Is he in the kitchen?” the Prince asks as he continues to carry on the conversation through the closed door.

  “Chef Georges is currently at the main freezer.”

  “I will be right down,” the Prince says.

  The Prince and I continue to get dressed. As Prince Julian speeds out of his bedroom, I follow him like his little pet. My lover moves with the speed of a young sprinter. He seems really revitalized after our morning fuck session. The Prince quickly descends several sets of staircases and trots down a long mirrored hallway. I have never been through this part of the Palace before. My head spins around as I steal glances at the amazing artwork and architecture of each passing room.

  I chase the Prince through a large arched double doorway. I find myself in the “kitchen area” of the Palace. The various workers notice the Prince is suddenly in their presence. They stop what they are doing and nod before him.

  “Morning everyone,” the Prince calls out to the cooks in the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Your Highness,” the cooks and servants say as they get back to work.

  The Prince trots up to an older bearded man wearing a large chef’s hat. The Chef bows before the Prince. I am too far away to hear their conversation. As the Prince and the Chef talk, four servants walk up to them holding a massive 12-foot long item wrapped in brown paper. The Prince smiles and places his hand on the package. The four servants appear to be struggling as they carry the mysterious package into the kitchen.

  The Prince says his goodbye to the Chef and turns to leave the kitchen.

  “Amy. I didn’t know you followed me down here,” the Prince says to me.

  “It was hard to keep up with you.”

  “I was just excited to see the main menu.”

  “May I ask what it is?”

  “Let’s just say that I personally captured tonight’s dinner.”

  He captured the dinner? And the dinner is twelve feet long and several hundred pounds?! Oh boy, now I am glad that I am having fajitas tonight!

  The Prince escorts me out of the kitchen and calls out to one of the many handlers roaming around the Palace. “Have the cars brought around. I shall be going into town.”

  “Last minute shopping before the party?” I ask.

  “Not really. But it is related to tonight’s dinner. You will be coming along with me as well. We have a little friend to visit.”

  Now, this is truly mysterious. I don’t even know who would qualify as a little friend in Mondorra. I barely know anyone in the Principality. Nevertheless, within minutes, the motorcade of six vehicles is ready and waiting right outside of the Palace front doors.

  Prince Julian escorts me to a gleaming white Rolls-Royce Phantom. As the doors are opened for us, I notice how thick the windows are on the vehicle. Of course, the Prince must have all of his vehicles bullet-proof and bomb-proof. I guess that’s just one of the many precautions a head of state must use in order to go out into the world.

  The motorcade speeds down the Prince’s private road and into the busy streets of the Principality. As we pass by the people on the sidewalks, I notice that they are waving enthusiastically at the Prince’s car. The people on the streets seem to be happy with the Prince. Too bad that feeling does not appear to be shared by the monied class of Mondorra.

  As the motorcade makes a few more turns, the streets become more and more familiar. This is the exact same neighborhood the Prince went to last week when he invited the public to his open-house party at the Palace. We stop in front of a little grocery shoppe that is certainly familiar to me. This is the little store owned by the little old lady Carole Lorraine, “The Savior of Mondorra.”

  “We are going to see Carole?!” I ask excitedly.

  “Indeed we are,” the Prince says. I never forgot the story that Prince Julian told me. Lorraine was the young lover of the Prince of Mondorra during the Nazi Occupation of World War Two. She single handedly smuggled intelligence to the Allied Forces which helped free the Principality from the Germans and from Vichy France.

  Carole runs out of her modest grocery shoppe with her arms stretch
ed out. Before the Prince can fully get out of the Rolls-Royce, the old lady gives the Prince a full hug. Prince Julian returns the show of affection. It’s at this moment, I realize that Carole is more than just an “honored citizen” of Mondorra. Or its “savior.” Carole is Prince Julian’s surrogate “Grandmother.” It brings a tear to my eye to see their embrace.

  Carole looks Prince Julian up and down. “You have been eating well, Your Highness.”

  “I have, Carole.”

  “Good!” the old woman says. She looks at me and smiles. It’s one of this wide and sincere smiles from a great person that can really restore the karma in your soul. If Carole likes me, then I must be a good person.

  “It is great to see you again, Amy,” the little old lady says as she gives me a hug. Carole stands back and looks at both of us. “You are a lovely couple.”

  We walk into the grocery store, where the shoppers have all turned to look at us make our entrance. There is spontaneous applause from the young people, while the older Mondorra citizens bow their heads in respect for their leader. The Prince bows to the older citizens while he waves and smiles to the young people inside the shoppe.

  The Prince asks Carol if he could, “speak to her privately.” The old lady happily leads the Prince to the back of the shoppe bragging about her new shipment of wines. “I shall send my finest case to the Palace,” Carole says as she leads us to a rather cluttered back room stacked with boxes of produce, canned goods and other inventory. This certainly seems like an odd place for the leader of the Principality to hang out. However, the Prince seems comfortable in the shoppe.

  “Let us go into my office,” Carole says as she walks us to a tiny back room complete with a desk, stacks of papers and a wall safe. Prince Julian takes a seat on the small wooden guest chair, next to the desk. I stand and watch the surreal scene of the Prince talking to the elderly shoppe owner in this office no bigger than a jail cell.

  “You have probably heard about some of the divisive comments made about my relationship with my girl,” Prince Julian says.

  “I certainly have, Your Highness. Royal romance stories sell well in European papers.”

  “It has gone beyond that.”

  “How far?” Carole asks.

  “There is a conspiracy to undermine the Principality.”

  All of a sudden, this old lady becomes dead serious. The look on her face tells me that this eighty-something year old woman is more than just a shop owner.

  “I am at your service, Prince Julian.”

  “It is my intention to confront those who wish to move against me. I am confident that this matter will be settled before Midnight. However, I believe it is time to show Amy the Tunnel.”

  The old lady looks at me. She looks right into my eyes. It scares me. Carole stands up and closes the door to the tiny office. She walks over to a tall wooden bookcase stacked with coffee cans. She reaches back and presses a rear panel on the bookcase. The entire wall begins to slide to the left revealing a six foot tall tunnel. My jaw drops.

  “This three point five kilometer tunnel leads into France - the village of La Turbie to be specific,” Carole says as she takes my hand and leads me into the tunnel. “We keep a mercenary group at La Turbie ready to assist the Prince. If something happens in Mondorra, this will be your only safe passage out of the Principality. Do you understand?” Carole asks me.

  “Yes.”

  “If you should meet anyone inside the tunnel - or at its entrances - they should give you the codeword ‘Gabriel.’ If you do not get that code word, you shoot or stab that person until they die,” the elderly woman explains as she removes a brick from the side of the tunnel. Carole pulls out a handgun and a twelve inch dagger. “At approximately every four hundred meters is a stash of weapons hidden behind a brick with a distinct crack down the middle,” Carole says as she shows me the brick.

  The Prince puts his hand on my shoulder. “We should be fine tonight,” my lover says to me softly. “But you should know about this - just in case.” All three of us walk back out of the tunnel. There is a sense of real shock running through my body. As the Prince walks back into the office, Carole pulls on my arm and whispers into my ear. “The Prince has dated many women. But you are the first to be shown the Tunnel.”

  I let that sentence really sink into my head. This tunnel. It is possibly the biggest secret kept in the Principality of Mondorra. If something goes horribly wrong, this tunnel may be the only escape to safety. Indeed, the Prince is trusting me with his life in sharing this place. And I am the only girl who has ever been privy to such information. I know now that the Prince has deepened his bond with me. I must entrust my life to him. Who knows what shall unfold tonight.

  During the car ride back to the Palace, Prince Julian is unusually silent. He seems deep in thought about the dinner. I do not what to disturb him. Though I want to share my appreciation for sharing the secret about the tunnel. As the Palace comes into view, the Prince looks over at me and grabs my hand. “Tonight will be exciting. You are the last one in the room who should feel any trepidation. The guest will be in the hot seat,” the Prince explains to me.

  “Thank you, Your Highness. That makes me feel more comfortable.”

  “I am counting on your being comfortable to make our guests uncomfortable.”

  ***

  We get back inside the Palace in the late afternoon. The Prince confers with his Intelligence Minister. “All invited guests have confirmed that they shall be attending this evening,” the Minister says to the delighted Prince.

  “Excellent. Everything is set for 9:00 p.m. this evening.”

  “Very good, Your Highness. Shall I have anything else prepared for the evening?”

  “Keep your men close by. I intend to find out who sent the bribe to Amy before the strike of Midnight.”

  “And what do you have planned for the traitor?”

  “Oh, I do not wish to give away anything yet,” the Prince says.

  Damn, I was hoping he would say something. I have to know what he has planned!

  ***

  8:00 p.m. It is time to prepare for the dinner. I look inside the massive closet filled with designer dressed imported from Paris. I am sure the Prince will be dressed in a stately manner. And I would like to ensure that my appearance does not discount his stature. I look for the most regal design fit for the escort of a Prince. Out of the corner of my eye, I find an impressive white dress with gold and silver trim and a long flowing skirt. Yes, this will most certainly do.

  I place the dress on my body. Then I look for the perfect pair of shoes to complete the outfit. The closet has towers, I kid you not, towers of shoe boxes from various design houses. My eye catches the distinct Chanel boxes. There is something about the name Chanel. That is stylish and grown-up. That’s how I would like to appear for my Prince - stylish and grown-up. I open box after box until I find a pair of white heels which makes the perfect match to my dress. I put on the heels and walk over to a full length mirror.

  Wow. I don’t even look like myself. I look like royalty. I am so impressed with my appearance that I scamper into the bathroom, where the Prince is preparing himself for the evening’s activities. “Your Highness, what do you think?” I say as I beam from ear to ear. The Prince turns around and looks me up and down.

  “That is a lovely dress and you look stunning.”

  “Thank you, Prince Julian,” I say proudly.

  “However, it is not right for this evening.”

  “I want the guests to be impressed with my presence.”

  “Don’t dress for them. Dress for me.”

  At first I am confused. And then I get it. He doesn’t want the guest to be comfortable. He wants me to be comfortable. And he wants me to dress for him. I run back into the bedroom closet and strip off the fancy white dress.

  I look for something tight and sexy. Something that I can slip on and feel comfortable. A sort of a second skin that will make me look and feel naked at the party
. Then I find it - a little black dress with teeny-tiny spaghetti straps. It’s the kind of dress you would more likely find in a Miami Beach nightclub than a European Palace. I place the dress on my body and walk to the mirror. Oh yes, this shall work. The plunging neckline shows off my cleavage. I turn around and notice that my ass is perfectly display in the skirt that rises half-way up my thighs.

  I spin around and notice that the little black dress flicks up to reveal my tiny white thong. Oh yes, this will be perfect for my Prince. I skip back into the bathroom. The Prince instantly turns his head and says, “That is exactly what I am talking about.”

  “This is more to your suiting, Your Highness.”

  “Indeed.”

  I do the little spin move. My skirt flicks up. The Prince looks at me and licks his lips.