Her Royal Daddy

by Maren Smith

  It was a shitty headline, and I knew it, but I wasn’t prepared for Mazi’s reaction.

  He came at me as I was shrugging into my t-shirt, grabbed my arm and almost before I could protest, bent me over against his hip and smacked my ass. Hard.

  Every half-hearted protest I’d had vanished behind a yelp and a kick, but just as quickly as it had happened, he released me. I vaulted upright, grabbing my stinging butt and rubbing fiercely.

  “What the hell?” I demanded, but the second I locked eyes with him, I checked my attitude.

  Catching my chin in the hand he’d just spanked me with, soft and stern, he said, “Don’t ever call yourself common again. You are nobody’s ‘ordinary,’ least of all mine, and I won’t put up with it.”

  I blushed under his stern gaze. “Sorry.”

  If anything, he became even more stern. “Sorry, what?”

  My blush got instantly hotter. Knots tangled in my stomach, affecting my tongue as I quickly stammered, “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t really mean that.”

  “I know, but nobody talks about my girl like that, especially not my girl.”

  And right there at the foot of his bed, we came butting up against a hard, non-negotiable truth.

  “Mazi—” I started. He rolled his shoulders, but I just could not call him Daddy just then. This was all getting so real, so fast. I had to take a step back. “I can’t be your girl. You are the Prince of Osei. Like it or not, there’s going to be rules against this sort of thing. Those rules aren’t going to let me be your girl. Your mistress, maybe, if we’re discreet...”

  “Do I seem like the kind of guy who’ll let other people dictate my life for me? Who I choose to spend time with is my decision and it is not up for discussion with anyone else. Not my father, or Jax, and unless you want to be sitting on an icepack for the next week, I really suggest you never bring up mistress to me again.”

  “This is my job, Mazi!”

  He cleared his throat, shifting his weight to his other foot, rolling his neck in annoyance so strikingly obvious that every knot in my already tangling stomach tightened all over again. It was ridiculous just how badly he made me want to call him Daddy just then.

  “I-I mean it,” I announced, squaring my shoulders. “This is my livelihood. I’m not going to lose it for a... a... a fling. If we get found out, you’re still the prince, but I’ll just be the slutty reporter who used to work at the castle.”

  His eyes slanted and his expression darkened in a way that had my butt cheeks clenching, but this was non-negotiable and I could not afford to back down.

  Eventually, he tipped his head in a very reluctant nod. “Fine. For now, while you’re settling in to your job, I suppose we can be... discreet.” He said the word like anyone else might say ‘prawns.’ “We could both use some time outside the castle anyway. Acclimate to our surroundings, so to speak. Get to know the culture, explore the land, and meet the natives.”

  I relaxed and even smiled a little, already thinking of all the fun places we might find for potential hook-ups. My smile lasted only until he added, “Don’t think for a second this is forever, though. The next time we have this conversation, I am not going to back down so easily.”

  That was okay, I told myself as we both got dressed in heavy silence. I already knew this wasn’t going to be forever. My employment was only contracted for a year anyway. By then, the newness would have worn off and someone far more glamorous than myself would have turned Mazi’s head.

  “I can’t wait,” I said, and tried to ignore how my stomach was already sinking.

  A new me, a new job, and a hot new man who could melt my panties in a heartbeat, if only just for a short while—I was getting exactly what I wanted.

  Wasn’t I?

  Chapter Eight

  Norah

  Over the next week, Mazi and I explored Osei—him under the guise of getting to know his new home; me under the guise of it being my job to find things here to write about. Unfortunately, a lot of what we found to do off the palace grounds was only suitable to be published as lust letters.

  We went scuba diving and I wrote a long piece afterward, which I filed on my laptop under the header ‘Tourist Attractions’ and not one sentence of which included the words, “Dear Penthouse, today I clung to the side of a boat while our guide gave us safety instructions and my Daddy dom put his fingers down the back of my bikini bottoms and up into my pussy. I couldn’t make a sound or react in any way, and he just kept rubbing and asking questions and refused to stop until I came.”

  Another time we hiked up into the mountains behind the palace in search of a waterfall that someone in the village had told us could not be missed. It was beautiful. A slice of pure heaven in the form of cool, crystal-clear water in a rocky pool surrounded by lush greenery, and so remote that it took two hours to hike up to it and we never saw another soul the entire time we were there. Which was probably for the best, because... “Dear Penthouse, I barely got my shoes off before my Daddy dom picked me up and toppled with me into the watery pool. I expected someone to come upon us the entire time he stripped us both naked. But then he backed me up under the waterfall and, with my back against the rocks and rainbows dancing in the spray, he made love to me until I came. Twice. I have two marks on my back because of the rocks.”

  Every weekend, the village market opened up to local crafters, hawking beautiful rugs, pottery, wood and clay sculptures, paintings that could and would have fetched fantastic prices if only I could figure out how to tap into an overseas market that would gladly buy as much as could be produced and... “Dear Penthouse, walking through a crowded market, I tried to look at some hanging rugs, but Daddy pushed me into the alley behind them. In the nook of someone’s porch, he yanked up my skirt and unzipped his pants, and with my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, he fucked me against a rough wooden door. I got a splinter in my butt, so he bought me a frozen fruit bar.”

  Followed by... “Dear Penthouse, Daddy put a piece of frozen fruit inside me. I couldn’t stop coming. I almost died.”

  We took a helicopter ride on an air tour all around the island.

  “Dear Penthouse, did you know if you tip helicopter pilots extremely well, they’ll pretend they don’t know you’re having sex in their backseat?”

  We went surfing and swimming and seashell collecting...

  “Dear Penthouse, the sharks aren’t the only things biting on the beach. Look out! Daddy’s got some wicked chompers and my nips and clitty aren’t telling him no.”

  Osei was a tourist’s dream vacation waiting to happen, and a Dear Penthouse bestseller destined never to see the light of day. Each day was a new adventure, and the articles flowed from my fingertips onto my computer screen every night. I found places to publish them not only in local venues, but through travel sites all over the world, complete with pictures that Mazi took to accompany my stories. The clean ones.

  Which wasn’t to say he didn’t take pictures to accompany the other stories too, because he did. Lots of pictures. He was sexily, erotically, unstoppably skilled with a simple iPhone camera. And I became shockingly used to looking into his camera while on my knees, my ass in the air and my hands tied behind my back, with Daddy Mazi’s cock spanking a steady rhythm in and out of me while he tells me, “Say punish me, Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl.”

  I’m not going to lie. I’m really, really starting to like being bad.

  But, for all that writing about Osei and its charms had become a daily pleasure, writing about the royal family was not. Being discreet while on the palace grounds was proving to be much harder than I anticipated, mostly because Daddy barely made the effort. He tried, especially in the beginning, but as time went on I could tell it was grating on him. In public at the palace, I walked in the shadows while he was accompanied by Jax and a small army of attendants hired to teach him about Osei and its history, about the reigning family and his history, about protocol and local politics, and how to walk and d
ress and speak and eat, and which utensil went with which plate of food. And I would take notes because a lot of it was stuff I needed to know too, and Mazi would sit there, stewing in silence, his dark eyes never far from me and that even darker look on his face that promised he was going to have me again just as soon as he could get me alone. In a hall, in a bathroom, shoved up against the wall with my skirt around my waist and my pussy clutched in his hand as if he owned it.

  In a way, I suppose he did. My body was absolutely his, but my brain knew better. This was all still temporary. There was no way this could last, and nothing drummed that into me harder than during mealtimes when Mazi and his father would come together for what I was mentally calling the ‘press meetings.’ They would eat, talk about what Mazi was learning, and inevitably talk would eventually turn to his future, all of which took part with me sitting across the table from them and trying to act like the things I heard had no bearing on my life.

  It was excruciating.

  Today was one of those days because immediately after lunch, we moved into a conference room, and it was gut-wrenching on multiple levels. Not just because every word spoken only served to reinforce how out of place I was even to be following at their heels from one room to the next, but because of the king himself.

  Over the last week, his health had deteriorated at a truly frightening pace. It was as if he had been holding on until he knew the future of his beloved kingdom was safe, and now that Mazi was in the palace, he was ready to let go. He looked positively sunken and frail as he took his place on the royal throne. His skin was sallow and his eyes bloodshot. It was obvious he wasn’t sleeping much or well these days. The pain had become too much.

  Mazi saw it too. I could see echoes of what he’d gone through with his mother resurface in his face each time he looked at his father. Each time he did, almost immediately he’d look away again. He couldn’t talk about it—not to me, his father, Jax, or anybody else, because today we weren’t alone. The entire castle staff was present, as well as press from all over Africa. There were even news crews. I did my best not to flinch as cold cameras clicked away, unashamedly documenting the royal family’s pain.

  The king allowed plenty of time for picture after picture to be taken until, as if on some hidden cue, Mazi moved to stand beside his father, hands folded in front of him.

  A shiver went down my spine. This was it. I was officially fooling around in bed with a prince. A prince on his way to becoming king, and a hell of a lot sooner than I had originally thought.

  “When I realized I was sick, it forced me to come to terms with my own mortality.” The frailty in his voice reflecting his words, the old king addressed the room. “In order to do that, I knew I needed to find an heir for the throne—somebody who would take care of my beloved kingdom and restore it to greatness. I was fortunate in that I did not have far or long to look. Years ago, long before I took my place as the King of Osei, I met a woman who, in my heart, became second only to my beloved Irina. Her name was Patrice and though our time together was brief, she bore me a son. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I was already promised in marriage to Irina, an arrangement made by our fathers when we were young. When Patrice and I found out, she implored me to do what was best for my country. Though she knew she was pregnant, she did not tell me until she was safely back in America and for many years, I kept her secret. I allowed her to raise our son in America, where she sacrificed selflessly to give him the best life that she could provide. I recently reached out to my son. I have had the pleasure of getting to know him as a young man, and I can tell you with certainty that she did a fantastic job. I can die in peace, knowing that my kingdom is not only safe, but that it will thrive under the fresh eyes of new leadership.”

  He paused and everyone looked at Mazi. One would have to know him very well to see past the expressionless mask to the turmoil beginning to roll within him as Mazi took full stock of the responsibility now being placed upon his shoulders. I could see it, though. When I met his eyes, he forced the smallest of smiles.

  “I do not have long,” the king confided. “I wish to live out the remainder of my days in quiet retirement, spending time with the man who I now take great pride and honor in introducing to you, my son, Prince Mazi of Osei, the future King of Osei.”

  The king stood then as Jax came out from behind the throne with a small pillow. What the king placed upon Mazi’s head was more of a band than a crown, both beaded and jeweled, and far less opulent than anything I was familiar with when it came to pictures of royalty. Still, he wore it reverently and from the moment it touched his head, the room erupted in enthusiastic whoops and applause. Both of which seemed to please the king, although Mazi stubbornly kept his mask.

  Poor Daddy. I knew what he was thinking, that he wasn’t ready for this yet. He was probably already getting hung up in his own head. He was a lot like me in that way, but I also knew that when the time came, he would step up to face the coming challenges in a way that would blow even his own mind. My job was to keep writing articles and to wait in the wings as the supportive girlfriend while he figured himself out.

  The room grew quiet and everyone watched Mazi. It took a minute for me to realize they were waiting for him to speak. Pen poised above my notepad, I held my breath, ready to record what I was sure was going to be the shortest speech in the history of Osei.

  He cleared his throat, looking right at me, and I gave him my most encouraging smile as he said, “Public speaking has never been my thing. Obviously, being a king isn’t something I ever imagined for myself. I don’t think I could say anything more eloquently than my father already has, and I just hope that I can live up to the faith that he has shown in me. I ask you all to be patient with us in this time of transition, and I am excited to serve you all as your king in the not-so-far-off future.”

  The king looked to me next, and my gut did the most amazing somersault as I realized it was time for me to do my job. Getting up to address the room gave me a taste of what Mazi had just gone through. Everyone looked at me, cameras clicking away as I told them, “Thank you all for coming and giving us your time and attention. This will be our last press conference for a while. The family appreciates your thoughts and prayers during this difficult time.”

  I stayed behind with the family while the room cleared, and nobody objected to my presence. Why would they? I lived on the grounds and, as the royal family’s media consultant, reporting this story was my job.

  I was scribbling notes on the speeches, wondering how in the hell I was going to write this story without crying my eyes out when Mazi approached me. My heart pounded extra hard when I realized he was standing over me. It did that whenever he was anywhere in the vicinity. He was my drug and I was in constant need of my next fix.

  “So,” he mused, still behind his mask, even when only in front of me. “I guess it’s more or less official now.”

  “It appears that way.”

  “Every little girl dreams of dating a prince, right?” He tried to smile. “What’s it going to take to get you officially on board, too?”

  I frowned, looking past him to where Jax and the king were still deep in conversation. “Not now,” I said as softly as I could. “It’s not being discreet if your father’s less than five feet away.”

  Also, more than half the palace servants were still in the room, but I wasn’t so naïve as to think most of them didn’t already know. Mazi had tipped the helicopter pilot well, but he hadn’t exactly taped his mouth shut.

  “He’s busy, going over some official this-or-that with Jax. They’re not paying any attention to us.”

  He was right, too. When I glanced nervously past him, both men had their heads tipped together over a stack of paperwork Jax was carrying. They were whispering, keeping their voices extra soft so as not to be overheard by any of the stragglers who hadn’t yet cleared the room.

  “It doesn’t matter. I told you. I can’t risk it.”

  He shrugged, rolling his eyes, re
moving the beaded headband from his head and running an irritated hand through his hair. “This thing is a nuisance,” he grumbled, handing it to one of his father’s nearby attendants. “Frankly, so is discretion. Meet me in my room in thirty minutes.”

  He walked away then, joining his father and Jax at the head of the table, leaving me to stare after him in annoyance. He hadn’t even waited for me to agree, taking for granted that I would meekly do as I was told without so much as an argument. Was he getting even cockier?

  Did it matter? He was right.

  I huffed as I left the room, and I quickly walked toward my small quarters at the opposite end of the palace. No matter how annoyed I was, I already knew that in thirty minutes I would be in his room, just as he had asked.

  What I didn’t know for sure was what would happen once I got there, but a part of me was starting to think it might be better for us both if I found a way to wean myself off my ‘drug.’ I knew I wasn’t being naïve. The media coverage surrounding him was only going to intensify from here on out; there was not going to be any room for discreet in his life. And he was getting tired of it, anyway. And as much as I wanted him, I knew I wasn’t wrong. This wasn’t Disney. In the real world, Cinderella did not get to go home with Prince Charming and live happily ever after. The real world had a precedence, and the last time a girl born outside of royalty fell in love with a prince, while they did indeed get married, first he had to abdicate.

  Osei couldn’t afford that.

  I would be selfish beyond measure to stick around long enough even to make that a possibility. This had to end. For both our goods, I had to stop it. Now, while we could both still walk away without it hurting more than I knew it already would.

  The only problem was Mazi. Thirty minutes later when he came strolling back to his room, I was calm and rational as I laid it all out for him. He even agreed with me—we couldn’t keep going on like this. But where I was reasonable and ready to walk away, pride and heart as intact as they could be after losing a man I was starting to think I actually might love just a little, he was the complete opposite. He not only refused to think about parting ways, he wanted to take our relationship to the next level. He was tired of discretion; he wanted to hold my hand in public. He wanted to kiss me when people were looking. He wanted to introduce me to his father as more than just the family media consultant.