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Make seven your lucky number today…
My kingdom is in turmoil.
No cheating, or cliffys. This is a 80,000 word romantic love story with a Happily Ever After.
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I sit back and wonder how much worse this can get. The news is horrible and it’s probably being censored by the Royal Press Office.
On the screen I can see the United Nations building as a reporter explains for what seems like the hundredth time what’s going on in my kingdom.
“Sources report that agents loyal to Queen Moira seized control of key Royal bases and offices in a well-coordinated movement designed while the King was overseas delivering a speech to the United Nations. They swiftly declared the King as unfit to rule and declared that he would be jailed should he decide to travel back to St. Carlta. King Guy Avondale currently resides in his hotel, in exile from his Kingdom, as the situation in St. Carlta unfolds,” the commentator states.
Only the situation in St. Carlta has already unfolded, and Moira has seized power. The people are rather stunned by what happened and some barely have any idea of what’s going on because one of the first places Moira’s agents descended on were the television stations and news outlets.
I know they’ve been planning this for a while. They’ve blocked access to a bunch of sites on the Internet. They’ve taken over everything. No information comes into the kingdom without Moira’s men knowing.
I mean, it’s bad enough that there’s been a coup and my father has been removed from power. But what’s worse now is that I can’t get on Facebook because the Queen and her cronies are worried that people will find out the full extent of how they’ve taken power and rise up.
I wonder for the millionth time about my safety. As the only daughter of King Avondale, I must be a target. I have to be. Eventually she’s going to want to come for me and remove me. She has to.
But for now, she’s trying to make sure that everything seems normal. She may even be wanting my support to reassure the citizens of the Kingdom that all is well. I mean what better way to do that than by having the daughter of the old King show up bending her knee to the new ruler.
I know she’s been up to something from the moment she seduced my father. There was something about her that always hit me as just being a bit off. She used her guile to make sure that those around her did what she wanted them to. She seduced Father and got him to marry her. She became my stepmother and it became clear that she saw me as a threat.
Well, maybe not that big of a threat.
I mean, how much of a threat can one silly girl who is more into beauty pageants and nightclubs be?
How much of a threat can a woman be who spends all her days dreaming of the man she is betrothed to? The one who was supposed to come and marry me, and then one day assume the throne with me. Prince Gladrell.
Absently, I finger the tiara that I’m wearing. I won it at the latest beauty pageant.
I mean, come on. I am the fairest of them all. That much is undeniable. I work out. I do CrossFit. I do yoga. Pilates.
I know my butt looks good. I eat right. I’ve had music lessons, singing lessons, history lessons, and all manner of other lessons.
Sure, I used to get around back when I was younger. My wild child days. Go out at night. Party like it was the end of the world. But even though those days are behind me, when I was in University, I think I got some lessons out of those as well. Like the proper way to suck a cock. The best way to squeeze your pussy as some dude is about to come to make him just go insane. How to deep throat. The lessons that you don’t get royal tutors for, you know?
Yeah, I’m not some little damsel in distress.
I mean, I am a damsel. But I’m not innocent and pure. I believe that women should be allowed to do whatever men do. I know Prince Gladrell disagrees with me on that, but he’s going to have to get used to the fact that I’m not a cute little virgin. He’s going to be marrying an experienced pleasure seeker.
Thinking about pleasure makes me think of Gladrell. How I can’t wait till our wedding night, if the Queen still allows it to happen, and how I want his face in between my legs.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some woman totally in love with Gladrell. I barely know him. Instead, I know of him. And he’s all I’ve ever been told that I’d end up with, since we were kids. So every fantasy I’ve had, I’ve projected on him.
Just thinking about the Prince’s face between my thighs has me all hot and even though I know that with everything with dad and the Kingdom going bad, I can’t help myself. I need a way to get my mind off things.