Royal Beast: A Dark Fairy Tale Romance

by Nikki Chase

  “Don’t stop,” the prince says when he notices my body becoming still. “I love watching you like that, squirming and wriggling, desperate to come. Do it again. Do it for me.”

  I follow his order, rubbing myself against his thigh, my juices staining his pants—what would the palace staff think when they see these pants in the laundry basket?—and my hands grabbing onto the leg of the chair for balance.

  The thought crosses my mind that I’m behaving with no shame, like a common whore, like some kind of an animal. But that thought is gone in an instant.

  Once again, as the prince rubs my pussy and my ass cheeks, I feel my climax within grasp, but he suddenly stops me with a firm hand over my lower back.

  “Looks like you were about to come, Rosemary.” From the way the prince speaks, he obviously knows I was.

  “Yes, Sir,” I say with frustration, having had two potential orgasms ruined already.

  “Did I say you could come?”

  “I—I didn’t know I needed your permission, Sir,” I say.

  “And now you know.”

  “May I come, Sir?” I ask, mimicking the Submissives I’ve seen at the club.

  “Yes,” he says. I’m about to start moving my hips again when he adds, “But only if you beg me to fuck you. I’ll make you come with my cock inside you. I want to feel your pussy muscles grabbing onto my cock. I want you to cream all over me.”

  My ears grow hot from the dirty words the prince has just said. I’m already dripping onto his expensive pants, but I know I’m only getting wetter.

  “Sir…”

  I know the words to say. I know what I want. I know this is the right time. It has never felt this right, and it probably won’t ever feel this right again. But I can’t quite speak them out.

  “Yes, Rosemary? Were you just about to beg me to fuck you? All you have to do is say the word.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, hoping he’ll take that as a complete answer.

  “Yes what?” he asks as his fingers draw lazy circles up and down the back of my thighs.

  “Yes, Sir, please fuck me. I beg you,” I say in frustration.

  “Good girl,” he says.

  He wastes no time in pushing me up on my feet. He bends me over the big desk. I can hear his zipper sliding down, and his pants falling down around his ankles, his belt buckle clanging against the hard marble floor.

  My heart is hammering so hard against my rib cage that my whole body is shaking. But it’s not fear; it’s excitement and anticipation. It’s desire. I can feel it just out of reach, the satisfaction I seek. And I know the wait won’t be long now.

  “Spread your legs, sweetheart,” the prince says as he kicks my feet apart. “It’ll help stretch your tight, virgin pussy so it won’t hurt as much.”

  I do as he says and feel something hot and hard sliding over my pussy lips, making me moan every time it brushes over my opening.

  “You want me inside you, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, Sir. Please,” I say, softly and desperately.

  The prince presses himself against my opening and pushes inside, forcing me open bit by bit. He’s so thick I feel like I’m about to tear in two, but I hold on. I push through the pain, like I always do.

  “This is going to hurt,” the prince says as he puts his hands on my waist, “but you’re going to be okay.”

  He pulls himself back and slides back in, getting a little deeper with every thrust. This hurts like a bitch. My little gasps and moans have turned into whimpers and cries.

  “Hold on, sweetheart, we’re almost there,” the prince says, his voice hoarse with lust.

  When I feel his balls press against my pussy lips, I know he has buried himself to the hilt inside me. He has taken my virginity, even though I told him it wasn’t going to happen.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he says, his strong hands grabbing my hips, hard.

  He owns me completely now. He’s claiming my body as his own, and I’m letting him. Worse, I begged him to.

  I should feel defeated and ashamed. But instead, the way he bends me to his will just makes me want him more. The fact that he has taken my virginity only makes me want to give him more of me.

  I’ve never felt anything like this before, but I love this, the feeling of being completely dominated by a strong, powerful man.

  James’ cock feels like a blade inside me at first, carving pain into my flesh. But as he slides in and out of me, again, the pain turns into pleasure, and my cries turn into breathy moans again.

  “I told you it was going to be okay. You’re liking this now, aren’t you, sweetheart?” the prince asks as he leans down, his hard chest pressing me down against the desk, his hand pulling my hair so he can speak right into my ear.

  “Yes, Sir,” I answer honestly.

  “Yes what? You like my cock in your pussy?”

  “Yes, Sir, I… I like your cock in my pussy, Sir,” I say. I close my eyes from embarrassment, knowing the prince is watching me.

  “Tell me you’re mine now,” he growls in my ear as he grabs the hair at the back of my skull.

  “I’m yours, Sir,” I say as I give in completely, letting the prince do what he wants with my body.

  “Good girl,” he says, “I’m going to fuck you hard now, so hard you’ll find yourself craving me at night, so hard you’ll be ruined for other men.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whisper in submission, my tits and cheek squished against the surface of the desk.

  The prince pulls his body upright, yanking my hair up with him so I’m arching with my head pulled all the way back.

  He puts a finger against my clit and starts to slam into me, rubbing my clit with every thrust. As his movements get faster and more frantic, the sensations push me to the brink and over the edge.

  I come with a violent shudder, my body shaking involuntarily as my muscles tense. As the orgasm overtakes me, I feel the prince’s cock inside me grow a little bigger and harder. When it starts to twitch, warmth floods within me, and I know he has spent himself inside me, truly branding me with his masculine claim.

  “You’re all mine now, sweetheart,” the prince says victoriously as he pulls my hair back and grinds into me one last time.

  Rosemary

  “I’m glad to see you and Master get along so well,” says Albert as he helps me arrange things inside a duffel bag.

  “To be honest, I didn’t expect to,” I say.

  “Well, I don’t blame you. Master… It takes a while for people to warm up to him,” he says, his eyes taking on a faraway look. He seems to suddenly remember something and adds, “But he’s not a bad guy.”

  “I don’t know…” I say, letting my sentence hang in the air.

  Even though the prince and I have grown close physically over the past few days, we haven’t had much chance to just talk.

  There are so many questions I want to ask him, but he always turns the situation sexual as soon as things get real.

  Although… Well, I can’t put all the blame on him, because when he does that I always drop my question right away, often dropping my panties as well while I’m at it.

  So maybe Albert can help me answer a few questions.

  “Do you think Master is a bad person, Rose?” Albert asks with surprise, a sign that my bait has been taken. He’s bound to talk more if he feels like he has to defend the prince.

  “Well, not exactly,” I say, deliberately presenting myself as someone whose opinion can be won. “I’m taking a liking to the prince, but I’m concerned about what people are saying about him.”

  “People always say things about the royal family that are not true,” he says with conviction. I have no doubt where Albert’s loyalty lies, and the royals are lucky to have him on their side.

  “Is it true, what they say about what he did to his ex?” I ask carefully, phrasing my concern as a question rather than an accusation. Luckily, thanks to my sisters, I’ve had a lifetime of practice at broaching sensitive issues without c
ausing offense.

  “None of it is true,” Albert says. “Master always treated Cheryl with respect. He’d never lay a hand on a woman to deliberately cause harm.”

  I think about the James that I know, the one who doesn’t think twice about inflicting pain on my body. I don’t know if Albert knows about the prince’s dark desires.

  To be fair, though, he only hurts me to ultimately give me pleasure. Even though I serve him and please him as his Submissive, he also has to be mindful of my needs and wants. In the end, he satisfies me as much as I satisfy him.

  Although it may not look that way to an outsider, our sexual relationship is about mutual pleasure and not one-sided exploitation.

  “Then why would she say something like that?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” he admits. “Master doesn’t always share his thoughts, but he’s not a domestic abuser,” he says, spitting out the last two words like they’re poison.

  I’ve always known how mean women can be when they don’t get what they want, and I’ve wondered if Cheryl only went to the press as revenge over some lovers’ spat.

  I know Cheryl has also referred to Prince James as a “sadistic beast,” which is how he got his nickname. Yet Albert chose not to address that particular phrase. It makes me wonder if he knows what the prince gets up to when he goes out on his own at night.

  “Maybe the prince should say something to the press. Maybe he should explain his side of the story instead of hiding out here.” Again, I try to put it as gently as I can.

  “Sometimes, silence is the best policy,” Albert says. “A prince has many more considerations than a regular citizen does. Besides, the timing of the scandal blowing up also coincided with the queen’s illness. She was growing weaker and weaker by the day at the time.”

  Oh, that’s right. I forgot that Cheryl’s exposé on James happened not long after his mother also got involved in another incident that blew up. She was already sick when the gossip about James’ mean streak started making the rounds, and then her condition got worse and she eventually died.

  Again, I curse myself for not keeping up with gossip about the royals. But then again, I was eleven when the scandal involving Prince James happened.

  It’s hard to imagine that he had to go through something like that when he was only eighteen. It’s been ten years since then, and the kingdom still hasn’t forgotten.

  I only know the gist of what happened, and I feel bad about asking Albert more questions.

  “Sorry, Albert, for reminding you of difficult times,” I say. “And thank you for helping me pack.”

  “It’s no problem, Rose,” Albert says. “I’m just doing my job.”

  The old man looks burdened by the weight of his sad memories that I’ve been digging up just to satisfy my curiosity. I should stop prying.

  It’s almost time to leave anyway. The prince would punish me if I were late—not that I’d mind.

  “Have you followed my instructions?” James asks as I hop into his big four-wheel drive and pull the door closed. With this monster of a vehicle, I bet it’s a piece of cake to slice through the woods, even when the dirt roads are muddy.

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, pulling the seatbelt across my chest.

  “Let me see.” James smirks as he rests his big hand on my thigh, trapping my gaze.

  He doesn’t ask for permission, and nor does he expect forgiveness. He knows I’ve surrendered. He knows he owns my body.

  I bite my lower lip as his hand travels up and down my thighs. His fingers caress and probe me over another one of my flimsy dresses.

  It shouldn’t take this long for him to confirm that I’m not wearing any panties, but I can’t deny this feels good. I can’t lie to him. As soon as he sees how wet I am, he’d know the truth.

  “Good girl,” he says finally, with a satisfied smile. “Ready for Malvern?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say softly as the car begins to roll effortlessly over the narrow dirt path.

  “Call me James when we’re in the city. I don’t want anybody to suspect something.”

  “Then call me Rose.”

  “No,” he says, “that’s your safe word, remember?” The prince cocks an eyebrow at me, a wicked glint in his eyes.

  “Yes, Sir,” I say. I’m not usually this meek, but I can’t help it with Prince James. There’s something within him that speaks directly to my soul and demands complete obedience.

  It occurs to me that I’ve yet to use my safe word, even though we’ve had so much sex over the past few days that I’ve lost count.

  We’ve done it in the library, in my bedroom, in his bedroom, in our bathrooms… but despite the quantity of sex, I feel like Prince James is still holding back on me. He’s treating me like I’m a fragile little thing.

  “Good,” he says. “Is there anywhere you want to go in the city? I’m going to be gone a while tomorrow to take care of business, but we’ll have some time to waste in the afternoon and in the night.”

  “I can visit the city library during the day if that’s okay with you,” I say.

  I’m still technically the prince’s prisoner, so I’m not sure how much freedom he’s willing to give me. Despite how well he’s been treating me, there’s still a chance that he could still drag my father back into his palace to finish the punishment if I run away or something.

  “Sure, you can do that,” he says. “Just remember to keep your head down and don’t talk to anybody. Do you know many people in Malvern?”

  “No, I don’t go there often.”

  “Good. I don’t want word to spread about me keeping you locked up, and I especially don’t want the location of the palace compromised,” he says, keeping his eyes on the uneven road as the car jumps around.

  “I understand. I’ve already told my family that I’m okay and they don’t have to search for me, so it should be fine.”

  “Good. They seem to be listening to you, because my surveillance hasn’t showed any unusual activities at your house.”

  Wait a minute. He’s been spying on my family?

  I don’t know why I expected anything different. Even if he’s been nice to me, he’s still keeping me prisoner. Any trust or good will I feel toward him is probably rooted in some kind of Stockholm’s syndrome.

  “If I may ask…” I pause to gather my strength and courage. After taking a deep breath, I ask, “What’s all the spying for?”

  “The whole world has always been spying on me,” he says, “isn’t it only fair that I get to do the same to them?”

  “Well, it can be argued that they don’t have the same resources that you do,” I say, remembering the dark room with the countless monitors.

  “It depends on who you’re talking about. The gossip tabloids certainly do,” he says.

  “That’s true. But my family is not the gossip tabloids,” I protest.

  He remains silent. Obviously, he’s not convinced by my line of reasoning.

  It’s not that he doesn’t have a point. He’s right; he has never enjoyed much privacy either. And at least the people he spies on don’t end up on the gossip tabloids like he does. But this isn’t a solution.

  I figure I’m already crossing a line, so why not keep asking questions? He may not want to talk about the secret cameras anymore, but there are still so many things I want to know.

  “So I was talking to Albert today before we left,” I say, as my heart pounds in my chest, “and he told me all the tabloid stories about you were false.”

  “I don’t know about ‘all,’ but many of them were false,” he says impatiently. Perhaps he’s irritated by my curiosity.

  “Like the ones about how you abused your ex?” I ask anyway, recalling the gruesome pictures I’ve seen on the tabloids.

  My sisters don’t usually show me their magazines, but I guess that particular piece of gossip was too juicy for them not to share.

  According to the tabloids, the crown prince had given that poor girl a black eye, a few cuts on her sk
in, and even some strangulation marks around her neck. The whole kingdom was talking about it.

  “Yeah, like those ones,” he says. “I’d never beat up a woman like that. I know the limits. You know that.”

  “Yeah.”

  That means they had a relationship much like ours, right? He was her Dominant, and she was his Submissive. Even though technically he would’ve physically hurt her, I can assume that they had a safe word and he only did what she wanted him to do.

  For some reason, the knowledge that James has dominated another woman before… I don’t know. I don’t like it.

  My chest feels tight, like something’s suffocating me. I want to know more about what happened to turn her against him, but at the same time I don’t want to hear about his past relationship with another woman.

  Even now, my mind is starting to wander, conjuring up images of the prince and that woman together. They only make it harder for me to breathe.

  “When we reach the inn, we’ll take the back door,” the prince says. “It’s dark and late at night now, so the chance of someone recognizing me is low. The inn keeper’s daughter works at the palace and she can keep a secret, so feel free to roam inside the inn, but be careful when you’re outside.”

  “Okay.”

  I’ve already heard some of those rules from Albert. He was the one who made the arrangements so we wouldn’t have to bump into anybody.

  “Oh, and we’re going to The Dungeon tomorrow night before going home,” the prince says as he glances at me, flashing me a mischievous smile. “Since the first time I saw you there, I’ve wanted to take you into one of the private rooms.”

  Rosemary

  “Notice anything familiar?” Prince James asks.

  He’s wearing the same outfit he did the first time we met here, at The Dungeon. A simple, understated suit and a plain black mask over his face. But that’s not it.

  I take a good look around me and immediately notice what he’s talking about.

  Unlike the beautiful parquet floor at the palace, the ground here is covered with ceramic tiles. And instead of plaster artwork of animals and plants, the walls are lined with plain-looking sound-proof material.