BDSMing the Brat: ** 20 Book ** Taboo BDSM MEGA BUNDLE

by Sarah Sethline

  "Hey Phantom," Phil said jovially.

  "I was just joking."

  "You know I hate that kind of thing," said Kenrick, shedding his anger.

  "Be straight with me, and I'll be straight in return."

  "Okay, done," Phil resumed his earlier tone.

  "Yes, I want some meat. And I want that piece of meat."

  Kenrick sat back, looking at Phil evenly.

  "Are you serious?" he asked his friend, surprised by his renewed interest.

  "Any more serious, I'd be in the ICU."

  "In that case," chuckled Kenrick, getting up.

  "Come along!"

  He held Phil by the hand and dragged him up, and out of the room.

  "Hey Phantom, Phantom!" Phil never thought his friend would mean business.

  "Just shut up, Phil. I know you haven't had it for months – with all your trips abroad and all."

  "Phantom, I didn't mean it, please let's not go there!"

  "Shhh!" he shushed Phil with a finger on his lips.

  By now, Kenrick had hauled him to the ground floor and through a door at the rear of the manor, where they stepped out.

  That was where the workers had their break time, where they hung around in between work. Kenrick, still leading his friend by the hand, looked into one room after another as he raced along. Mostly they were empty, as the workers were out on the property or on the fields.

  In front of one of the rooms, he stopped, panting. Phil, who caught up with Kenrick a second later, also stopped, also panting. In front of them, in the room, were the two birds they had seen from the window. They were seated, their lunchboxes open, about to have their food.

  Both of them, startled at the movement at the door, stood up at once and curtseyed.

  "Good morning, Your Royal Highness," they both echoed as one.

  "Not lunchtime yet, you bitches," said Kenrick, spitting venom for no reason.

  "How about eating some cock first?"

  The women, trembling with fear, stood there dazed. Kenrick stepped into the room, pulling Phil inside, and slammed the door closed. Its echo reverberated in the hallways of the manor.

  "Which one do you want?"

  Phil was too stunned to answer.

  "WHICH ONE DO YOU WANT?" Kenrick barked.

  Phil knew he had to pick one. It was too late for common decency now.

  "That... that one," he pointed at the shorter of the two.

  "Okay, go!"

  He released Phil and pushed him towards the woman he'd selected in one swift move.

  Phil almost crashed into the girl at the dining table. He felt a little ashamed to be at the wrong side of this aggression, but there was nothing he could do. Little did he imagine that just a jest on his part would have come to this.

  Kenrick, meanwhile, was advancing towards the other woman. She was not only taller, she was the prettier of the two, and genuinely deserving of his royal patronage.

  "Come, Bitch," muttered Kenrick.

  "First my cock, then your food."

  He reached her and held her by the hair – she screamed.

  "Don't scream!" Kenrick screamed.

  The woman shut up, her hair still in his vice-like grip.

  "Don't. Scream." Kenrick said evenly, bringing her face towards his face. But he would not be as gracious as to give her a kiss; her job was down below, the dirty job that only menials did, and she was a menial.

  He pushed her down, making her sit forcibly, but that was too low; then he pulled her up, making her kneel… This seemed about right, now she was level.

  "Okay, you, open up!" yelled Kenrick.

  The hapless woman opened her mouth wide, but it looked like she'd comprehended the command wrong.

  "Open my fly, you whore."

  Kenrick's patience was more short-lived than his orgasm.

  "Open it, take my cock out, and then open your mouth!"

  Now the instructions were clear. The woman, with shaking fingers, fumbled with the zipper of his trousers, then groped inside over his underwear (which he graciously lowered) and drew out his enormous dick. His full erection was still some distance away, and it was already a mile long.

  "Now!" came the command from the prince.

  The woman opened her mouth wide and took him in. Then nothing happened; the woman just knelt there, without moving herself or the cock…

  An agonizing five seconds passed. Then came an almighty tug at her hair from above, and the woman moaned.

  Almost on cue, as if she was programmed that way like Pavlov's dog, she began sucking his cock with all her strength. Kenrick liked it immensely, as if discovering some enormous hidden talent in this artist, and thrust his pelvis outward for her to get more room, and maneuver her mouth better. In, out, in, out, in, out; it went on and on…

  Kenrick's eyes were closed… Now he was enjoying it…

  While the woman was at work, he reached down and pulled at her blouse. The buttons holding her ample bosom, rather precariously, snapped and fell on the floor, some of them rolling away under the furniture as if hiding from all the violence.

  His strong hands pushed inside with force and held her breast in his iron grip. As if in protest, her nipple rose up hard, and his fingers responded by squeezing it as if it were a flea.

  The woman let out a yelp. Kenrick strengthened his grip on her hair, holding her head firmer, and punished her with more violent thrusts of his penis inside her tiny mouth. He did this over and over and over again; he was a stallion that could time his orgasm, and so he held on, without any let up.

  He looked up to see what was going on with Phil. That bastard was just standing there, next to the girl, and both were aghast at what Kenrick was doing, their eyeballs almost bursting out of their sockets…

  "You son of a bitch!" screamed Kenrick as he reached for whatever he could.

  In his frenzy – his cock was still in the woman's mouth – he could only get to the lunchbox on the table.

  He picked it up and flung it at Phil with all his might.

  Chapter Six

  "Princess Adelaide Isabella Royce!"

  Her name echoed in the royal court hall.

  "The king has been pleased by Letters Patent under the Great Seal of the Realm, dated this seventeenth day of April… to declare that Adelaide Isabella Royce be inducted into the royal household and should have and enjoy the style, title and attribute of Royal Highness with the titular dignity of Princess prefixed to her Christian name, or with such other titles of honor."

  Hundreds of dignitaries were seated all around, including the king, his son the prince, members of the extended royal family, the prime minister with his entire cabinet, presidents or heads of government of friendly countries, secretaries to government, senior officials, the press, television crews, and the rest of the media – there were perhaps a few thousand people present at that moment.

  Everything had happened at incredible speed. It was the wedding of the century, with virtually every global leader in attendance, and the event was telecast live in nearly every country in the world. The reception that followed was royal in every respect, with thousands of people witnessing it in person and millions more on television. The two families were united; just two common people from one side joining hundreds of members from the royalty on the other.

  It was a vicarious dream come true for ordinary folk – a rank commoner entering the royal household. Stuff that fairy tales were made of! Everyone was happy for Addie and her mother, at their incredible fortune. This kind of thing only happened in dreams, or in movies, or in romance novels, if we're being honest.

  The ceremonies were all complete. Now remained just one ritual, the meeting of the families. This was an elaborate custom, and the highlight of it was the formal introduction of the new family members to the king.

  In the royal court hall that evening, the king was present in his ceremonial attire with all its finery, seated on his throne. His heir the prince and all his ministers graced the occ
asion, and foreign dignitaries represented their respective countries.

  The queen, Addie's mother, was called first. The royal priest escorted her personally and handed her over to the king, who then seated her next to him as his consort. Then the introductions of the new queen's family members occurred. There was just the one, and that's when Addie's name was called out with all the gusto of a royal personage...

  "Princess Adelaide Isabella Royce!"

  She thought her name was announced twice, but that was just her imagination. No name was ever announced more than once, and no one to date had disobeyed that announcement. This was the royal family, if anyone had to be reminded.

  The change in surname did not go well with "Addie", thought Addie. Her mind was suddenly on her father. She didn't remember a lick about him; she was but three when he passed away, but remembrance of the man whose seed she was, and whose surname she'd carried till this day, brought a certain heaviness to her heart. Along with moisture to her eyes. Now, in an instant, she seemed a different person – not the good old chatty, charming Addie – but a member of THE royal family. Who would have thought?

  She got up, and her elaborate dress made a jingling noise. It had some two thousand tiny bells stuck in various positions, some of them poking her in awkward places whilst she'd been sitting. Its train was three meters long, and there were six little children ready and waiting to carry it just for her. How simpler would it have been to just walk up, as if receiving a university award, and then come back and sit at the same place!

  Before she knew it she was walking, her little train in tow, across that large, imposing hall. Cameras were clicking away, flashes blinking like a million bright stars; channels covering her stride live, focusing on her brilliant white dress and the many bells that were ringing for no one in particular.

  She walked up, as instructed, to the king's throne, curtseyed to him, took his hand and kissed it. It felt rough. She had met this man only once, on the day of the wedding, when he was sitting next to her mother with a smile that could brighten up the whole world.

  But that was not all. There was another person whose hand she had to kiss: Her mum's, the queen's. She was not just her mother anymore, so said the royal orientation staff (whose job it was to train commoners entering royalty). Her mother was now the mother of every subject in the kingdom; indeed, she was the queen mother.

  Whatever happened to the two friends who shared everything between them, back in their little middle class apartment, Addie wondered.

  She went through the motions of kissing her mother's hand – the queen's hand – and made her way back to her seat. Once again, the shutterbugs and television cameras purred; the six little kids held her train; the bells jangled nonchalantly; and she sat down once more.

  A lot more of that happened while she was seated; she did not pay attention to the rigmarole. It was of no concern to her anyway. Finally, it got so tiring, she just wanted to get it over with and go home.

  Home?

  Her heart skipped a beat. There was no home for her anymore, no home as she remembered it. No more going back to that neighborhood she loved so much – middle class though it was. No more getting off the bus (or getting into one) and taking the slow, leisurely walk through the suburbs to her leafy lane, with all those tiny tots making a racket on the street. No more of those meaningless neighborly conversations across picket fences, about the day, the weather, or just the cat that was sprawling on the road. No more of any of that.

  In its place, she now had a buggy drawn by eight horses. A limousine with six doors and sixteen wheels. An entourage of twelve page girls that were in constant attendance. A wing of the palace with seven rooms to herself, not including five guest rooms.

  And not a moment to herself.

  Chapter Seven

  "Come, let's do something outdoorsy today!" Prince Kenrick pronounced.

  And the only listener in the room – his bosom pal, Phillips.

  Kenrick's father the king's wedding had just concluded the day before. And frankly, the prince was exhausted from all of the ceremonial nonsense. Now what he needed was some fresh air. He yearned for the wide-open greens, the sprawling meadows, the wind in his hair. He craved for long, winding roads, meandering through the mountains. He just wanted to get out!

  Upon receiving zero response from Phil, he looked at his friend. There was a bandage on his head, just above the right eyebrow. The sharp steel of the lunchbox had narrowly missed his eye.

  "What do you want to do?" asked Phil, under duress to respond.

  "Let's go to town and have some fun."

  A moment of silence.

  "Fun like we had the other day, in the servant room?" Phil asked, his index finger inadvertently running over his covered wound.

  "Hey come on Phil, I said I'm sorry. But really man, you behaved like an asshole that day."

  "Yeah, I guess I did."

  Phil's tone was dead serious.

  "And you were a thorough gentleman."

  "No, I behaved like an asshole too," Kenrick agreed.

  Kenrick got up and went to where Phil was sitting.

  "It happens, Phil. Such things happen. I'm royal, after all. I am the ruler."

  "Okay, whatever," brushed off Phil, pushing Kenrick's hand away from his shoulder.

  "What now?"

  "Be a darling, let's get out. Let's go for a long drive, just you and me. No entourage, I promise."

  "All– all right," Phil sighed.

  When Kenrick wanted something, he wanted something.

  *****

  Thirty minutes later, they were cruising along the expressway at a hundred miles an hour – in Kenrick Royce's Rolls Royce Phantom convertible.

  This was the limo that gave Kenrick his name, for this was the same car that he used to go to primary school in, all those years ago. Today it was still in mint condition, having been maintained by the royal garage; with the passage of time, it had earned a kind of 'cult status' in the royal family.

  And Kenrick had come to inherit it.

  As he'd promised, he managed to keep his entourage at bay. A single security officer had no chance to travel with them, so it was just the two of them. Kenrick liked his cars – and women – topless, and he had the much-needed wind in his hair exactly as he'd wanted.

  "No, Phil, actually this is not what I wanted," Kenrick was saying.

  Phil, who was morose earlier, had since snapped out of it. Cheerful now, he was sitting in the passenger seat, his legs stretched out onto the dashboard.

  This was nothing new with the prince. What he got was not what he wanted – even after he had craved for it.

  "Well, what is it that you wanted, Sir?" asked Phil, respecting royalty.

  "Well, nothing can beat a bike ride. Remember the Harley I had back at university?"

  Phil remembered. Back then, Kenrick was a huge Harley enthusiast and member of multiple clubs. And back then, when he did not have a purring woman between his legs, he had a purring Harley.

  "Yup," said Phil.

  "Those were the days."

  "Disagree," disagreed Kenrick.

  That was his habit – to disagree on something that was eminently agreeable.

  "These are also the days."

  Phil said nothing.

  "Wanna see what I mean?"

  What was it going to be now, Phil wondered.

  Kenrick pulled up outside a Harley-Davidson showroom. They got out, leaving the car as it was, without even locking it. Apparently, his long limo was a familiar sight in town that no one dared to touch it.

  He stopped at the glass window, admiring the models on display. The latest Harley had arrived, and it was gleaming expectantly, like a nubile young thing waiting to be taken.

  "Did you ever realize," he asked Phil.

  "What?"

  "That a new bike is like a virgin. Its first rider is the one who deflowers it."

  "Oh?"

  It was Kenrick's habit to link everything in life to s
ex.

  "A new bike also feels like one. Its grip, its freshness, its wholesome body… it's so much like a young, sexy, untouched woman."

  He swaggered into the showroom, with Phil following him. Someone in a three-piece suit came out running.

  "Your Royal Highness!" the man said.