by C. T. Sloan
I notice that a group of the guests become increasingly tense. Some of them seem as though they are on the verge of attacking one another across the table. My heart begins to race. I am wondering if I am watching many co-conspirators or just one traitor. Prince Julian stalks around the table like a tiger ready to pounce on a selected prey. I just want to make sure that my royal lover is safe. He could have twenty enemies at the table and not even know it.
“Dammit! Mr. Robaire is the one responsible,” Mr. Beatrix yells while his wife breaks down into tears. A tall, intimidating older man looks at Mr. Beatrix with a face that is practically on fire. The Prince does not walk towards Mr. Robaire. Instead, he walks to his old friend Mr. Beatrix. The Prince looks down at the shaken old friend.
“What do you, Mr. Beatrix?” the Prince demands.
The shaken man’s wife grabs her husband by the arm and looks him in the eye. “You tell him! You tell him everything now!”
Mr. Beatrix looks up at the Prince with a heavy heart and sweat upon his brow. “I must confess, Your Highness, that Madame Beatrix and myself did not initially approve of your relationship with Miss Rousseau. I am not alone. Myself and several others - who are seated at this table - had expressed this concern. One week ago, Mr. Robaire offered a proposal of a bribe to your lover. I knew that Mr. Robaire was going too far and warned him of the fact. I swear on the life of my children, I was unaware that Mr. Robaire was going to carry out the bribe.”
The Prince looks at Mr. Beatrix and then casts his eyes across the table. “And who else among you heard about this proposed bribe and failed to notify my Palace of this treachery?”
Two hands raise. Then another. Then two more. Four men and one woman confess to a conspiracy by Mr. and Mrs. Beatrix as well as the ringmaster himself, Mr. Robaire.
“That makes seven of you who had withheld such information from me. I am greatly disappointed,” the Prince says. The scared confessors keep their hands up in the air with tears in their eyes and the specter of expulsion on their minds. “You can put your hands down now,” the Prince says to the guilty five.
Prince Julian walks over to Mr. Robaire whose initial poise is beginning to break down as the Royal ruler locks eyes with him. Mr. Robaire suddenly stands up, causing the Palace guards to reach for their weapons. Mr. Robaire drops to his knees and grabs Prince Julian’s right hand. He kisses his ring. “My Prince. I beg forgiveness. This evening I have gazed upon the most beautiful woman in the world. Miss Rousseau is certainly worthy to be in your presence. Please allow me to buy your lovely woman a gift of your choosing.”
“Mr. Robaire. There is nothing you can buy that will satisfy me. Sit back down,” the Prince demands.
The guilty Mr. Robaire takes his seat, his hands shaking, his lower lip quivering. The Prince motions to Justice Minister. “Hand me each expulsion paper on this table with the exception of Mr. Robaire’s paper,” the Prince orders. A wave of relief washes across the table. “For those who knew nothing about the bribe, you must understand the extreme measures I had to take in order to uncover the treachery. In my mind and in my heart, your innocence and allegiance to me is unquestioned. For the seven of you who knew about the bribe - and failed to inform your Prince - I will spare you expulsion from my Kingdom. In exchange, you will make a donation of twenty-five million Euros, each, to the one of ten approved charities on a list which I shall provide to you. As for Mr. Robaire, I will now write you a check,” the Prince says as he orders his Treasury Minister to his side.
“How much does Mr. Robaire have on deposit in the Bank of Mondorra?” the Prince asks the Treasury Minister.
The Treasury Minister checks his iPad. Several silent seconds pass before the Prince is provided with an answer. “Three hundred and forty-eight million Euros, Your Highness.”
“And what is the fair market value of Mr. Robaire’s residence in Mondorra?”
The Treasury Minister checks the Principalities property records on his iPad before coming up with the answer. “Forty-four million Euros, Your Highness.”
“Draw Mr. Robaire a cashier’s check in the amount of Four hundred and four million Euros,” the Prince demands.
“The personal items in your residence will be shipped to your new address,” the Prince says to Mr. Robaire.
The royal leader calls out for his personal guards. “After Mr. Robaire has received his check, escort him to the border and see that he leaves my soil,” the Prince orders.
Mr. Robaire looks at his Prince knowing full well that much of his net worth will be taxed at 80% to 90% in whatever European country that will grant him residence. The wealthy soon-to-be-expelled Mondorra subject looks up at Prince Julian with tears in his eyes, “Your Highness, I can donate one hundred million dollars to charity. I will personally finance the grandest statue in Europe, built in your honor!”
The Prince ignores the pleas from Mr. Robaire. The ruler takes the check from the Treasury Minister and tucks it into Mr. Robaire suit pocket. “I am granting you mercy by allowing you to leave Mondorra with your money and the fair market value of your home. But if you ever step back into my realm, I shall personally lock you in my palace dungeon and leave you there!” the Prince explains as the guards remove the guilty Mr. Robaire from Prince Julian’s Palace.
Mr. Beatrix stands up with tears in his eyes. He offers his heartfelt apology to the Prince. Then I see something that shocks me. Prince Julian stops him. He walks up to the older man and puts his arm around his shoulder. “Mr. Beatrix. You made a mistake. But we are still friends. I will always give a second chance to someone who is genuine. Something that is completely lacking in the soul of Mr. Robaire.” It is the perfect end to a tumultuous evening. The group of invited guests come up to the Prince and myself and offer the kindest words. It was not out of fear of the Prince. It was out of respect. As the last guests make their way out of the Palace, the cathedral bells of the Principality ring in the stroke of Midnight. The Prince has kept his deadline.
As I listen to the bells ring, the Prince walks up to me and gives me an embrace that feels more intimate than anything I have ever felt before. He holds on to me as though he does not want me to get away. As the last bells of Midnight clamor out, it becomes clear - this was all about me! The Prince defied the wealthiest and most powerful families in Mondorra for me. I begin to cry. The tears flood my face. Prince Julian looks at me and knows. He wipes the tears from my cheeks and carries me off. No words are said as my royal master takes me to his bed. He kisses me on the neck. I am his.
Prince Julian kicks open the door to his inner sanctum and tosses me on his bed. He rips off his clothes and stares at the black dress, clinging to my young body. The Prince pulls off my dress and peels off my thong. I feel the white silk sheets against my flesh as the Prince pleasures himself to my naked body. I watch as his cock gets harder and thicker. The anger in Prince Julian’s eyes has turned to lust. I begin to touch myself as I stare at my royal lover’s hard dick. He pulls my legs apart and dives in. Head first.
I feel the Prince’s tongue ravage my body. He licks me so well that I can’t help but dig my fingernails into his scalp. Prince Julian eats me out so fucking hard that my hips rise into the air. I feel my royal lover lift my ass higher and higher until I do a handstand on the bed. The Prince runs his tongue up and down, side to side. Nothing is stopping him. All the blood rushes to my head. There is no enough air in my lungs to scream. I am breathless.
The muscles in my stomach contract as I feel myself ready to cum. The Prince’s tongue works overtime as I moan and scream my approval. When I reach my orgasmic crescendo, Prince Julian lets go of my ankles. I fall to the side, holding my hands between my quivering legs. I just felt like I got an entire night’s worth of pleasure in five short minutes. But, for the Prince, he is just beginning! My royal lover places me on my back. He straddles my chest and forces his big dick into my panting mouth. The Prince begins to fuck my face with the aggression of a caged animal. I grab Prince Julian’s ass
and swallow as much dick as I can possibly take.
Prince Julian moans much to my delight. I love to please my royal lover. I begin to bob my head back and forth, giving the Prince an experience that he should never forget. I must have done one hell of a job because he pushes my head away and holds his hard dick in his hands. Apparently, my mouth almost did too much of a good job!
The Prince turns me onto my stomach. I feel my arms get pulled behind me. The Prince binds my wrists together with a leather belt. “Now, it is my turn to take control of that tasty little body of yours!” the Prince exclaims. I feel the strong hand of the Prince whip right across my ass. The spank is hard yet completely delightful. The Prince spanks me again and again. He is getting his aggression out. And I am more than happy to be at the receiving end of it.
When the Prince is done with my ass, he goes right back to work on my pussy. I feel my hips get lifted up into the air. The master of the palace props a pillow under me and begins to fuck me from behind like a fugitive getting his first fuck in years. The Prince claws my ass and fucks me with the full force and fury his body will allow. My head gets pushed into the mattress as I feel myself ready to cum once again. As I get fucked, the Prince moves his hands from my ass to my shoulders. He pulls my body back towards him while slamming his hard dick inside of me. My goodness, this is the hardest I’ve ever gotten it. I think I may go blind by the time this evening is over.
I get fucked until I scream. The Prince pulls out and turns me onto my back. My wrists are still bound behind me. I lie there, the helpless prize on my master’s bed. The Prince stares at me as he spreads my legs apart. He slowly pulls my ankles back towards my ears. Then my lover leans in and pushes himself back into my body. We lock our eyes. The Prince begins to fuck me. But this time, it’s nice and tender. He kisses my neck and my cheek. Then we lock lips. I can tell by Prince Julian’s rhythm that he doesn’t want this moment to end. Neither do I.
“I love you,” the Prince whispers softly as he picks up speed. Those words ring in my ear. We have fucked so much in the past month. But this is the first time I have heard those words. Of course, it couldn’t come at a better time. To hear those three magic words just as I am about to be split apart by the sexiest damn Prince in the world.
The Prince fucks me at full speed. I moan. I cry. I cum. Prince Julian screams from the top of his voice. He finishes inside of me. His cock continues to slowly grind inside of my body while he runs his tongue from my neck to my nipples. He nips on my body with sexual affection. I smell the sweet scent of his sweat drip onto my flesh. We are truly one form right now. Our bodies, minds and soul together.
***
I wake up to a strange sensation that I am being watched. I open my eyes and see Prince Julian looking at me from the balcony. He is naked, holding his towel around his chest. “Good morning, Amy,” Prince Julian says as he wipes the morning shower from his sculpted body.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” I say with the world’s most satisfied smile on my face.
The Prince walks up to the bed and kisses me on the lips. Then he runs his right hand through my hair. He is sexy and affectionate. The Prince appears to have reached a state of calm after resolving matters with the treacherous conspiracy in his realm.
“Let’s go for a walk,” the Prince says to me. I couldn’t be happier. Very few things beat waking up inside of a Palace on the Mediterranean coast. But a morning walk with my lover, my prince and my friend is certainly up there on the pure awesomeness chart. I walk out to the balcony wearing nothing but a fully content grin on my face. I feel the warm air brush against my body. I do a little bit of stretching. Then I take a quick shower and head out with the Prince.
Those is no security visible. We walk along this private beach in front of the Palace. “How do you like the beach?” the Prince asks me.
“The beach is wonderful,” I say as I remove my slippers and feel the soft sand between my toes.
“And you enjoy the Palace?”
“Who wouldn’t?” I say with a smile.
The Prince grabs my right hand. He seems to be rather uncomfortable with the small talk. Perhaps he still has something on his mind. Of course, being a leader of people is not an easy job. Walks like this must really help the Prince clear his head before dealing with state matters.
We begin to walk towards this large rock at the edge of the beach, where the sand hits the water. The rock is about five feet tall and ten feet wide. It appears out of place in an otherwise pristine beach. “Let’s climb up on the rock,” the Prince says. We step up a rather easy incline leading to the summit of the five foot tall rock. As I look down at the rock, I notice that it is well worn in certain places. It appears that many people have climbed on this rock before.
“This rock is where Mondorra began,” Prince Julian tells me. “It is said that this is where my ancestors set camp when they broke away from France. So, in effect, we are standing on the foundations of the first palace of Mondorra.”
I
look out into the sea and remark. “It has one heck of a view.”
“It certainly does.”
The Prince turns me around. I look at him. He looks at me and takes both of my hands and he looks into my eyes, “It is said that no Prince of Mondorra will ever be brought to his knees, except for once in his life. And when it is done. It will be done on this rock.”
I watch the Prince fall to one knee. Oh my God! I begin to hyperventilate. He takes my hand and looks up at me. “I would risk anything to keep you by my side. I would fight them with my sword, with my fist, and with my very soul. You have made the last month the most incredible, exciting and exhilarating month of my life. For ten years, I have been a Prince without a Princess. Upon the rock that my ancestors hold most sacred, I ask that you join me in eternity.”
Tears stream down my eyes as the Prince reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. He opens the box and offers me a ring that I can barely see through my tears. I nod and say, through quivering lips, “Yes.” Prince Julian puts the ring on my finger and begins to stand up.
As the Prince rises to his feet, my legs become wobbly. He catches me. We both fall on to the rock in a full embrace. The Prince wipes the tears from my eyes. As I regain my focus, a large wave crashes onto the rock, splashing water on both of us. My crying turns to laughter as we hold each other and kiss. The Prince holds my hands and says, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Your Highness.”
“From now on, call me Julian.”
“Thank you,” I say with a pause, “Julian.”
I look at the ring on my finger. My brain doesn’t even know how to process this. The Prince and I sit up at the edge of the rock and hold each other’s hands as we look into the sea. My initial joy turns to trepidation as the reality of marrying the Prince of Mondorra begins to sink into my brain.
Julian puts his arm around me. “I know what you are thinking. And yes, you are ready to be a Princess. The people have always loved you. It’s just that they are very protective of their Prince. They will soon embrace you as one of their own,” Julian says as he does his best to comfort my trepidation. I put my head on my new fiance’s shoulder. We don’t say much for the next hour. We just watch the sea, holding each other’s hands.
We walk back to the Palace. I look at Julian. I look at the ring. My head is still spinning. “News will spread fast,” Julian says. “Be prepared for the media craziness.”
“I can’t imagine how much crazier this day could get.”
“We are going to have a royal wedding in Mondorra. It will be the equivalent of New Year’s Day, the Superbowl and the World Cup Final all wrapped up into one,” my fiance explains to me.
As we approach the Palace, Julian tells his estate manager, “Call a meeting of the Palace Staff in the Grand Ballroom.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the Manager says as he hurries off.
I imagine Julian does not call a meeting like that so often. I get
nervous. Then I quickly remind myself that becoming the wife of a Prince will require standing in an intense spotlight. I just keep repeating the following word to myself, “Poise, poise, poise.”
We walk into the palace. Julian slows down his walk to a casual stroll. “As Princess, one of your duties is to design the interior of the Palace. I hope you are ready because there are over two hundred room here.” Design a palace?! I had a hard enough time shopping at Ikea for my apartment bedroom.
“Wow. Where would I start?!” I ask.
“That’s the fun part. You can travel to Paris, London, Hong Kong and New York. Better yet, you can have the decorators, art dealers and furniture designers come to you. Oh, and you will also get the most enviable jobs in Europe. You get to decide who gets invited to the Palace parties and Gala. Get ready to have a lot of blue bloods kiss your ass.”
I laugh. I guess being the Princess of Mondorra is going to be full of surprises.
We walk towards the Grand Ballroom, an immense space dominated by four massive chandeliers hung from an eighty foot ceiling. Before we get there, Julian and myself can hear the murmuring of the staff gathered in the immense space. All I can think is that, “Damn, the palace manager was able to get everyone gathered rather quickly.” As the Prince walks into the Ballroom, we hear the Palace manager proclaim, “Ladies and Gentlemen, His Royal Highness, the Prince.”
