TRIPLE PRINCES: An MFMM Menage Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  I was astounded, as was everyone else. This monologue had blown us away, the fact that King Georg had a secret life, his children the product of deception, painful manipulation, and heart-rending choices. How difficult it must have been to live in this web of lies, my head was spinning just trying to keep it straight. But there were still questions hovering in the air like fireballs waiting to explode.

  Kato launched.

  “So what?” he demanded. “This was all a fucking farce, but why didn’t you come and see us? Even if Mom screened all your calls, tore up all your letters, it’s not like there aren’t planes. You could have flown in and driven to our farm and showed up. She couldn’t stop you from doing that.”

  And Georg sighed again.

  “I get why you’d think that,” he said slowly. “After all I’m the King and have been for years now, the ruler of our small principality. But let me ask you, son – how much money do you think I have?” he asked.

  Karl and Kato just shook their head.

  “Who cares?” tossed off Karl, shaking his head, disgusted.

  “A hundred million,” ground out his twin.

  But their older brother was bolder, more matter-of-fact.

  “I know for a fact that the Crown is worth billions,” Kristian said bluntly, “even that part which isn’t entailed to the estate.” I’d read enough Pride and Prejudice to understand that it meant that a good chunk of money was tied to the throne itself, yes, but that they also had a nice income apart from the Crown.

  “That’s true,” nodded Georg, “but how much do you think I personally control? Say I wanted to go out and buy a pack of gum, where would that money come from?”

  Kristian paused for a moment.

  “I’m sure you have your own accounts, maybe with five, ten million in them?” he guessed. “Something around that ballpark?”

  And Georg laughed then, the harsh sound ringing off the stone walls.

  “Son, you give me too much credit, because the truth is,” he said, taking a deep breath, “the truth is I have almost nothing,” he said, holding out his hands, opening empty palms. “I get a small allowance from the Crown each year, maybe a few hundred a month. It’s enough to buy a couple lunches, maybe a cup of coffee now and then. But I have nothing actually, and I couldn’t, and still can’t, afford a plane ticket to visit the States.”

  Shocked silence. The King was a pauper? Who would have guessed? He certainly didn’t live like one judging from our lavish surroundings, the gala that was still going on downstairs.

  “Who’s been funding your lifestyle then?” demanded Karl. “Who’s been paying for all your shit? Don’t tell me …”

  But Georg was already nodding.

  “Yes, Agatha. Ah, beautiful Agatha, still supporting me thirty years after our wedding. You didn’t think the Rothschilds were just going to give me free rein with their money, did you? Oh hell no. When they married off their dear daughter, they knew what they were getting into. I was a man with a broken heart and illegitimate son, no way were they taking any chances. So all the money was tied up, wrapped with a thousand legal documents, placed in multiple trusts, secured so that no Venetian could ever touch it. It was all worked out so that we got small allotments of course, enough to meet our personal needs, but everything else was off limits.”

  He continued with a small smile.

  “So my family was saved from utter financial ruin, yes, but in return, I gave up my freedom in every way possible. The woman I loved, an independent life, and even my sons. I gave up my children for the Crown. Everything that meant anything to me. I was a puppet now, half-alive, controlled by the purse strings of a powerful banking family.”

  And I was shocked, hearing this confession. How painful it must have been, to be manipulated to this extent, a broken man at best, living with no purpose, the dark secrets inside gnawing away. And was it true? Were the Rothschilds still controlling the Venetians, even to this day? Georg nodded slowly, as if reading my mind.

  “Look around you,” he said, spreading his arms, gesturing to the objects d’art in the room. “Everything you see, nothing is as it seems. These tapestries, this antique furniture, that silverware over there, priceless,” he said. “And it all belongs to someone else,” he finished sadly.

  “So what are you saying?” asked Kristian slowly. “That this stuff is mortgaged? That someone’s going to repossess it?”

  “Worse than that, son,” he said. “This stuff … it doesn’t belong to you. It’s never belonged to you. You’re a prince in name only, you’re not going to be running the kingdom. Haven’t you noticed? All your duties are ceremonial, it’s a courtesy title only, the ribbon-cutting, the smiling babies, the pointless meetings that go nowhere. You and your position exist only at the mercy of a group of faceless bankers.”

  And I looked at Kristian, then at Kato and Karl, our expressions startled. Was it true? Was the St. Venetian royal house merely a farce at this point, a shell corporation controlled by anonymous powers, with no real heft, no weight, no sway of its own? It seemed too far-fetched to be true, more like the ravings of a delirious madman. But the sinking feeling in my heart told me differently, and I knew our lives, and our ménage in particular, had reached a breaking point.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Tina

  “We’ll make it work,” I said encouragingly from my seat on the bed. We were back at the apartment, Kristian, Karl, Kato and I, huddled after the events of the day. Because the revelations had been mind-blowing. Not only were they full brothers, but their very existence was upended, their positions in life. Evidently Kristian was nothing more than a straw prince, a puppet, and where did that leave Karl and Kato? The loyal soldiers of a straw prince?

  I shook my head again stubbornly.

  “We’ll make it work,” I said. “There’s more to life than this.”

  But Kristian just shook his head slowly.

  “No, baby, I appreciate your optimism, but it’s not true,” he said. “Money makes the world go round, and we’re seeing how brutal that fact can be. I know you had your hopes pinned on me, that somehow my fortune could save your family, but now,” he said with a wry smile, “it seems that I’m a pauper too.”

  “You’re not poor,” I said stubbornly, shaking my head. “Because paupers are people with nothing, and we’re not that. We’re rich in love.”

  The cliché was lame but I meant it. I loved these men, these brothers, the way that they were committed to their work, Kato and Karl as soldiers of fortune, Kristian as a political force, an economic guru with expertise in everything from foreign affairs to microfinance.

  “We can make it work,” I said forcefully. “Even if you lost your positions tomorrow, I still have my job at the non-profit and Kato and Karl can always find work on a boat again.”

  That made the men laugh.

  “Baby, there aren’t that many navy-class destroyers sailing the high seas,” said Kato gently. “We gave up our American citizenship to sign on as Legionnaires, so we can’t re-enlist at the drop of a hat. It would take some time for us to find new jobs.”

  And Karl chimed in too.

  “We appreciate your offer to support us, of course,” he said with a wry smile, “but honey, how much do you make from the non-profit? Thirty thousand? Thirty-five? It’s probably not even enough to pay for food for three grown men,” he said.

  I colored because I actually made twenty-five. Without a college degree, I couldn’t exactly command a high starting salary, especially at the entry level.

  “Well, we’ll make it work somehow,” I said slowly. “I know we can do it.”

  Kristian sighed again.

  “Honey, it’s not that we’re going to break up right now, go our separate ways or anything like that. It’s just … maybe it’s good we never told the world about our ménage. Because we’ve come upon some serious stumbling blocks, it was never going to be easy, but with the shit that’s hit the fan, it’s going to be about ten times harde
r to reveal our foursome.”

  But I still wasn’t having it.

  “No,” I stated firmly. “Nothing’s hit the fan. Tell me what’s changed.”

  And the men looked at me, taking in my flush, my determination.

  “Baby, if you haven’t noticed, I may not be prince much longer,” said Kristian gently. “And even if I were, you know I have no money.”

  “I don’t care about that,” I reiterated again fervently. “I never cared about your money or the title. I would take you as is.”

  The men shared a glance.

  “That’s sweet baby, but not realistic. The truth is that all three of us may be out on welfare soon, picking up unemployment checks. So let’s keep our relationship on the downlow, okay? Just for a little while longer,” said Kato persuasively.

  And my heart ached, not breaking precisely but the first few cracks making their way through my chest. Because I could feel our quartet disintegrating, each man trying to plan for the future, plot a path that might or might not include me. And without me? I knew they wouldn’t stay together, they’d disperse to pursue their fortunes to the four corners of the world. So even though I smiled bravely, holding back my tears, the beating in my chest was painful, tight, like my heart was physically tearing itself apart with each pound. Was this the end of our foursome? Were my men going to leave me high and dry, with nothing more than I’d started?

  I couldn’t bear the thought and launched myself at Kristian, wrapping my body around his big one, peppering his face, his neck with kisses as Kato and Karl massaged my back, my bottom.

  “I can’t bear it,” I gasped. “I can’t let you guys go.”

  And Kato’s big hand stroked me slowly, the sensation comforting and electric at once, warm through my sweater.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” he rumbled assuredly. “Like Kristian said, nothing’s changed … yet.”

  And that just made me cry all the harder.

  “But I don’t want anything to … to … change,” I hiccupped. “And I can feel that happening.”

  Karl spoke up this time, his hand big and warm on my thigh as it crept upwards.

  “Change is natural, change is good, baby,” he soothed. “It’s the human condition, and maybe we’ll all come out of it for the better, hmm?” he murmured, dropping a kiss on my shoulder.

  Meanwhile, Kristian caught my face for a deep kiss, his powerful, thick tongue thrusting between my lips immediately, making me gasp, pant for more.

  “Baby, I’ll always love you,” he said simply, his hands reaching for my breasts, tickling my nips before pulling them taut, making me moan and sigh, twist in his arms. “Nothing will ever come between us.”

  And we threw ourselves into the fucking then, going at it full-force, taking no prisoners. I pulled my cunny lips apart for them, showing them everything I had, my vibrating clit, my little asshole, the cream that spilled from between my legs, and I let them take me, one at a time, three at once, opening every orifice for them, hungry, begging for their cum.

  “Please,” I moaned as Kato slid into my ass with his dong, straining, vibrating, my little body the ultimate receptacle. “Harder, deeper.”

  And the big man just grunted, reaching down to pull my hips a little higher, get further in.

  “Ride my dick baby,” he ground out, face tight as his penis strained, balls ready to shoot. “Ride it good.”

  And I squealed, I squirmed, as I humped his rod, banging my pelvis up and down as Kristian stroked my clit, massaging the little nub, and Karl teased my breasts, pulling each nip tight.

  “Ohhh!” I moaned, coming hard, “oh oh oh!”

  And the men groaned as well, each one exploding with pleasure as I milked them, my hands busy as my pussy and ass clenched, doing the work of three women at once.

  But there was a frenetic note about our love-making, a certain desperation had invaded the atmosphere, my movements rushed, my body desperate to take them everywhere, remember them, imprint them on my mind. Because something told me we didn’t have much longer … and in fact that might be the last time I tasted the three men together.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Tina

  Two months later …

  “Violet,” I said tiredly. “Why did you ask me here?”

  We were sitting at the same café we’d originally met at, Café le Fleur on the outskirts of the City. Violet had been released, Kristian hadn’t been serious about the charge of treason. Besides, he’d found out that she was his biological mom, throwing things into a tizzy because who puts their own mother in jail?

  But that was months ago and I took a deep breath. The breeze ruffled my hair as I looked over the small plaza, appreciating the view. St. Venetia was such a beautiful city, the scent of the Mediterranean tickling my nostrils, the distant glimmer of the palace spires visible at midday. I loved it here, absolutely loved it, but maybe my future lay elsewhere. Maybe the men had been right, and I’d just been dreaming, living in la-la land, and there was actually nothing for me in this place anymore.

  Violet looked penitent, and lobbed a gentle opening salvo.

  “How are you, Tina?” she asked. “How is your family?”

  I snorted. How was I? How about mixed up, confused, and heartbroken all at once, barely able to sleep, hot tears streaking down my cheeks at night? How about all alone in the apartment where I’d once had three lovers, three gorgeous, amazing men who were gone now, scattered to the four winds? How about the fact that my parents wouldn’t even speak to me? Because I’d been their last option and now that was vanished too, their hopes dashed, bankruptcy looming.

  But Violet didn’t know any of that, nor did I intend to tell her.

  “Things are okay,” I said deceptively. “Not much to report.”

  Violet let out a soft sigh at that.

  “I know there’s a lot going on,” she said, “you don’t have to lie to me.”

  I turned on her, my eyes harsh.

  “Don’t even get me started,” I ground out.

  Violet drew back, her look stricken.

  “Please don’t take this out on me,” she said quietly. “Please understand, I didn’t want this to happen.”

  I paused for a moment.

  “You gave up one son and isolated two others,” I said slowly. “You were a terrible mother, keeping Kato and Karl away from their father, even when he tried to get in touch. What does that say about you? Even if you hated Georg, what he’d done to you personally, what about the damage to your boys?”

  And Violet’s eyes pleaded with me.

  “I know you think that I did the wrong thing, but you have to understand, I had no choice,” she said slowly, eyes shining with tears. “I had no choice! They’d taken one baby from me and I was afraid they’d take the other two as well.”

  I paused for a moment. She had a point there. If I were a young girl going up against a powerful, wealthy family, I too would think twice.

  “But what about Georg’s efforts to reach his sons? The phone calls, the letters? What about that?” I demanded.

  She just sighed, shaking her head.

  “He’d already made clear that he was a pawn of the throne, tossed about by forces he couldn’t control. What if his efforts to get in touch were part of some evil scheme to steal my boys away from me? Maybe the Venetians wanted to influence Kato and Karl, make them hate me somehow, turn their backs on their own mother. I did what I thought was best, please understand,” she pleaded, her voice strained.

  And again, I could see why Violet chose this course of action. Even though she hadn’t been through a divorce, she’d been betrayed twice by the same man, her heart broken, running off with what little she had. If I were in her shoes, I’d do whatever I could to protect my remaining children as well.

  “But Violet, what about what Georg said, all that stuff about the ‘blood royal’?” I added, more gently this time. “You told your sons that the King rejected them because they were commoners, when you
knew that wasn’t true. So in fact, you were trying to turn the boys against their father,” I pressed.

  And here, her face fell.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said slowly. “That I wove a web of lies, that I lived a web of lies for thirty years, creating ill will, lying to my sons, doing anything and everything to get ahead. But the fact is,” she said, taking a deep breath, “things aren’t that straightforward. I wasn’t thinking clearly at some points, yes,” she acknowledged, “but until you’ve been in the shoes of a heartbroken woman, you’ll never know,” she said sadly.

  And I was still incensed, sure, but I could feel the bubbling anger starting to calm to a simmer, some of the tension releasing. Because I knew what it was to have a broken heart. Since the events of the gala, our foursome had dispersed as I’d predicted, with Kato, Karl and Kristian going their separate ways. Kristian had disappeared on some “royal business” which could have been anything, I hadn’t seen him in weeks now. And Kato and Karl? Who knew where they were? The two men, despite their predictions, had immediately been scooped up by a military contractor and had probably been sent to Afghanistan or Syria, raging war zones both. My heart broke again thinking of them, putting their lives in the line of fire each day, the risk of death immense, if not certain.

  So I was no stranger to heartbreak, no stranger to dreams shattered, hopes dashed, my image of the future irrevocably gone. Instead, I only had myself now, living in a small apartment by the river, the interior shabby. I was sleeping in a small twin bed I’d bought recently, unable to face the king-size one I’d once shared with my lovers, the sheets sticky and wet from our constant loving. So I lay in my narrow bed night after night, my thoughts spiraling out of control, the pain almost killing me, wishing that I wouldn’t wake up some mornings.

  But inevitably, I pulled myself up at the ring of the alarm, listlessly getting dressed and eating breakfast before heading off to my job at the non-profit. Because it was the only thing that kept me going now, working with the Roma. My clients, these hardworking people who had nothing, who’d staked their dreams on small business, were all that I had. And I admired them, I always had, their dedication in the face of adversity, in the face of incredible discrimination, pre-conceived notions of what it meant to be Roma. And some of my clients were doing well, rehabilitating their credit scores, building esteemed community reputations, their businesses thriving, their networks growing. It was the only thing that kept me going now, and I made myself go in each day, my work kept the blood running through my veins, the air pumping through my lungs, no matter how despairing I felt.