by Jessica Ashe
Kimberly squirmed awkwardly in her seat, but she managed to retain a composed expression.
“Go, George,” Ellie yelled. “He’s taking her to task. Uptight bitch.”
I smiled, but I knew George was about to drop a bombshell. If he’d just wanted to have a go at Stan, he could have released an official statement. There was more to come.
Kimberly turned a page in her notes, hopefully skipping past any other questions she might have had concerning my blame in all this. George was glaring at her so intently, I almost felt sorry for her.
“What will you do next?” Kimberly asked. “The photos are out there and they’re all anyone is talking about. Like it or not, this is going to affect your position as a prince and Sophia’s as a princess.”
“You’re right,” George admitted. “This will die down eventually, but in the meantime the news has already had a huge impact on my fundraising efforts. That’s pathetic, by the way, but unfortunately it’s true.”
I groaned loudly in frustration. “Great, so now I’ve taken money from charities.”
“No, Stan has,” Ellie replied. “You cannot blame yourself over this. I know I sound like a broken record, but it’s true.”
“We’re going to have to get divorced,” I said, with a heavy heart. “That’s the only solution.”
“George will find a way,” Ellie said. “He has to.”
“So that’s the plan?” Kimberly asked George. “You’re just going to wait for this all to die down?”
“Sort of. The problem is it could drag on for a long time. Especially if more photos get released.”
Oh shit.
“There are more photos?” Kimberly asked.
“What’s he doing?” I asked Ellie helplessly.
“I… I don’t know.”
“There are more,” George admitted. “As I said, I want this to die down as quickly as possible.”
“Please don’t do this,” I said to the televised version of George as I realized what he was about to do.
“There are more photos,” George said. “And I’m going to release them now. We want to take control of the situation.”
“I’m sure he’s not actually going to—” Ellie stopped in her tracks as George pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“I can’t watch,” I said, as I kept watching anyway.
I wanted to look away, but this was my brain’s way of punishing myself. George was about to show the world everything. My breasts were already online, but soon there would be full nude images, as well as videos of me masturbating, and even one with cum on my face. A woman pictured with cum dripping down her cheeks could never become Queen.
“I know it’s pre-watershed,” George said, “but I’m sure your viewers can look away.”
“I don’t think we can—” Kimberly began. She stopped arguing as she looked off-camera and presumably got the nod from her boss. “Apparently we can.”
“I’ll cut to the chase,” George flicked through a few screens on his phone. “This is the worst one. A full, close up shot of the genitals. Personally, I think it’s a beautiful picture, but the public will be the judge of that.”
He’s doing it. He’s actually fucking doing it. He’s going to show my pussy to the entire world.
“Is it a good picture, at least?” Ellie asked.
I knew she was trying to lighten the mood, but I wasn’t interested. Harry must have convinced George this was the right thing to do, but he was screwing me over in the process.
George held his phone up to the camera which slowly zoomed in and then focused on the image on his screen.
“Oh. My. God,” Ellie said loudly. “That is lush.”
“It’s… It’s….”
“It’s huge,” Ellie said. “Bloody hell, Sophia. You told me he was big, but that’s ridiculous.”
I heard Kimberly gasp off camera as she saw the image on the phone. And what an image it was.
I stared at the rock hard, nine-inch cock I knew and loved. So did the rest of the world.
“That’s one of the more flattering photos,” George said. “There are some where I’m more… relaxed, and one where—I swear to God—it was really cold when I took the photo.”
“That’s your…” Kimberly began. “These are your photos?”
“Yep. They’re ones I’ve sent to ladies in the past. They’d probably come out sooner or later. Loads of people do it these days, and I don’t see why women should be the only ones publicly shamed about it.”
George put his phone away, and waited for Kimberly to ask him another question. She looked suitably speechless. The camera lingered on her for ten seconds until she suddenly snapped into life, presumably after receiving a word in her ear.
“We should probably go back to the cricket briefly,” Kimberly announced. “Just to gather our thoughts.”
“I have one more announcement,” George said. “But it can wait.”
As was her habit, Ellie turned the television off the second the cricket appeared on the screen. “Well, that was interesting.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Interesting.”
“You’re still here.”
“I should probably—”
“Go screw that massive cock that women all over the world are fantasizing about right now? Yeah, you should probably go do that.”
I smiled and grabbed my things. Everyone would still be talking about me, but I didn’t care anymore. I had George.
He had one more announcement to make, and if it was half as interesting as the last one, I wanted to be there when he made it.
Chapter Thirty
George
You had to be cold-blooded to give interviews on television. The bright lights had me sweating heavily and that was without the layer of makeup someone had tried to plaster on my face before I came out here.
It probably didn’t help that I’d come on television specifically with the goal of showing my erect penis to the public. That was bound to cause the odd bit of anxiety.
And that hadn’t even been the big news of the day.
“Do you want me to ask you any particular questions?” Kimberly asked during the break. The cricket was probably getting its best viewing figures in years. “If you like, I can just let you read a speech. It sounds like you have something you want to get off your chest.”
“I do,” I replied. “I’ll just make a short statement. It won’t take long. Then you can all go back to talking about me. Trust me, there’s going to be a lot to talk about.”
“We’re going to wait half an hour,” Kimberly said. “The execs want to let word spread online about the interview for maximum viewing figures.”
“I understand.”
I pulled out my phone and eagerly looked for a message from Sophia. Nothing. I’d taken a big risk, and I was about to take an even bigger one. I wanted her by my side, but as far as she knew, I’d betrayed her trust. Given time, I might be able to earn that back, but I wasn’t sure I’d get that time. I wasn’t sure I deserved it.
Ellie wasn’t responding to messages either, which meant she was likely comforting Sophia. The second all this was over, I’d go to her and apologize. I’d get down on my knees if I had to. Whatever it took.
I tried to stay offline, but boredom and a smartphone made that impossible. News sites were struggling to keep up, and as always, Twitter was way ahead of proceedings. My cock had already been hashtagged as #royalschlong, and I was being referred to as ‘George IX’ in honor of my greatest asset.
The plan had worked. No one was talking about Sophia’s breasts any more. Boobs were everywhere you looked, but erect penises were not often flashed about outside of porn sites. One particularly on-the-ball website was already crowdfunding to produce dildos based on a mold of my penis. I didn’t know how to feel about that, but for the time being I decided to treat it as flattering.
“Okay, we’re back on in sixty seconds,” a producer yelled.
A second later, I heard a fami
liar voice in the crowd of journalists, cameramen, assistants, producers, and pretty much every other BBC employee who happened to be in the building at the time.
“I want to speak to him,” I heard Sophia say. I looked around but couldn’t see her.
“Thirty seconds,” the producer yelled.
Screw this, I needed to talk to her before I went on air. I wouldn’t be able to explain, but at least she would know how I felt.
I leapt out of my chair, and ran towards the sound of her voice. She’d been through hell the last few hours, and yet she still looked dazzling. She still looked like a princess.
“Twenty seconds.”
“Hey,” I said, as we both stood face-to-face for the first time in what felt like months.
“Hey.”
“I’m so glad you came. There’s no time to explain, but you’re going to hear some bad things.”
“Ten seconds.”
“I just need you to remember that I love you, okay?”
Sophia smiled and nodded. She trusted me. Somehow, after everything I’d done, she still trusted me.
“Five seconds.”
I jogged back to the chair and sat down just as we went live. Kimberly spoke for a few moments, and then passed over to me.
Here goes nothing.
“Thank you Kimberly.” I took a deep breath. The entire country would soon hate me, but there was only one person’s affection I still cared about. Unfortunately, she might hate me too. “I have been living a lie, and have been ever since the news of my parenthood became public knowledge.”
I pictured families sat around glued to their television sets, until I remembered that families didn’t do that anymore. The parents might be watching television, but the kids would be in the same room bashing information into Twitter as fast as their thumbs could move.
What will be the hashtag for this one, I wonder?
“More accurately,” I continued, “Sophia and I have been living a lie. Our marriage was a fraud.”
I didn’t have to imagine the gasps of shock around the country, because everyone behind the camera did exactly that.
“I needed to be married to claim an inheritance left in my mother’s will, so I convinced Sophia to marry me as a favor. Sophia had nothing to gain from all this, and as you have seen, everything to lose. She’s the innocent victim here.”
Good job we never filed that visa application.
The only people who knew that I’d promised Sophia financial reward were Ellie and Dani, and I knew I could rely on them to keep the secret.
I looked for Sophia in the crowd, but I couldn’t see her through all the bright lights shining into my eyes. It was probably for the best; I didn’t want to see the look on her face when I said the next bit.
“Sophia and I care for each other a great deal, but due to the circumstances surrounding our marriage, we shall be immediately seeking a divorce or annulment.”
I just need you to remember that I love you, okay?
“I never wanted to be a prince, but the reaction from the public completely blew my mind. Unfortunately, as a famous man once said, ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’ It turns out that I’m not capable of taking on that responsibility. Sophia would have made a great princess—and she is a princess in my eyes—but I am not fit to be a prince. Therefore, I am officially abdicating and renouncing any claim I may have to the throne. Thank you ladies and gentleman, that will be all.”
I stood up and walked off the set to stunned silence. Royal analysts would have a field day over the coming days and weeks trying to figure out what the hell was going on, but right now I only wanted to hear from one person.
I didn’t need to find Sophia; she found me.
“So, we’re getting divorced?” she asked softly.
I nodded. “I think it’s for the best. I want to start from scratch. What about you?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Oh.”
“I’m fine with the divorce part,” she said, “but I don’t want to start from scratch. Otherwise we’ve got to do the whole dating thing again, and that’s tiresome.” Sophia smiled, which meant I smiled as well, because how could I not.
“You’re really okay with all this?” I asked.
“I never wanted to be a princess anyway. I thought I did, but I’d rather live a normal life. A relatively normal life anyway.”
“You’re still a princess to me, and as long as we’re together, I’ll always treat you as one.”
“Not always, I hope,” Sophia replied. She bit her bottom lip, and placed her hands gently on my side.
“Always,” I insisted.
“I don’t think you get what I’m saying.” She went up on tiptoes and whispered in my ear.
“Oh, right. Yeah, good point. I won’t always treat you like a princess. Speaking of which, I’m suddenly quite keen to get away from all these cameras. No need to give the media any more explicit photos.”
“I can’t believe you showed the world your cock,” Sophia said, as we walked away.
“You mad?”
“No,” she replied. “Seeing it is one thing, but I’m the only one who gets to sit on it. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Sophia
George had looked exhausted from the little show he’d put on for the cameras, but the second we were in our hotel room he came back to life.
More than that. He looked more alive than I’d ever seen him. When we’d met, George had been stressed about his inheritance, and I’d been stressed out about my visa. Now neither of us had those worries. We were both free to do whatever we wanted. Fortunately, we both wanted the same thing. We usually did.
“Want some champagne to celebrate?” George asked.
“No thank you. I’d like some dick to celebrate.”
George laughed out loud. “And here I am trying to be romantic.”
“There’s a time and place. Sex now, romance later.”
George grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into him. I immediately started undoing his pants while one of his hands cupped my face, and the other squeezed my breast firmly. My hand found his glorious member, which quickly became rock solid as I squeezed it in my palm and stroked slowly.
I had to get him in my mouth. It wasn’t something I wanted to do because it felt right, or because it was ‘his turn,’ I just physically needed to take this solid cock into my mouth. I pulled my lips from George’s and dropped to my knees. His gasp of disappointment at having my breast removed from his hand, quickly turned into a moan of pleasure, as I opened wide and took him between my lips.
The vein pulsed against my tongue, as I pressed my lips against his smooth skin and worked my way down the shaft. I’d given up trying to get the entire thing in my mouth, but I could more than make up for that by sucking it hard, ignoring the noise I made and the trail of saliva I left over his cock.
His fingers wove their way into my hair, but instead of pushing my head further down his member, he pulled me away. My lips were clasped on tightly and made a “popping” noise as he pulled me off, leaving his cock glistening and rock hard.
“No more,” George said. “I’m already on the edge, and I haven’t even started with you yet.”
He grabbed my wrists again and lifted me back to my feet, before scooping me up into his arms and carrying me over to the bed. Sometimes I forgot just how strong George was. He’d always been dominant but gentle at the same time, never pushing the unspoken limits we both had in our minds.
I dropped down on the firm mattress and watched as George peeled off his clothes until he was completely naked.
“Your turn,” he ordered.
“Why don’t you come and take them off me?”
“No,” he replied firmly. “I’m going to watch.”
Then I’m going to take my sweet time about it.
I opened my blouse button by button, slower than I had ever done since getting changed in the locke
r room at school when surrounded by girls who’d blossomed far earlier than me. At least this time I was enjoying it.
I threw the blouse to one side, and unzipped my skirt before sliding it down my legs and kicking it off. George’s eyes flicked between my heaving breasts, trapped in my bra, and my damp panties, just waiting to be peeled off.
“You’re taking your time,” George said through heavy breaths.
“I’m just giving you a longer show. More bang for your buck.”
I was also driving myself crazy. I freed my breasts and threw my bra at George. By the time he had pulled it off his face, my panties were flying at him as well. I made a ‘come here’ motion with my finger, and George bounded forward, practically jumping onto the bed.
My legs opened as he slid between them, his hard cock pressing temptingly up against my belly.
“Shit, forgot the condom,” George muttered. He lifted himself back up to his knees, but I hooked my legs behind him and held him firmly in place. I really didn’t want to see that glorious cock covered up.
“I’m on the pill,” I said softly. “And we are still married…”
“God, I was hoping you’d say that.”
George came back down, but this time his mouth went straight to my nipples, covering one, and then the other, in kisses and gentle bites.
“George,” I moaned, as his teeth clamped down and pulled my nipple away from my chest. Deep inside, I was vaguely aware that the sensation shooting through my body should be pain, but all I felt was pleasure. The harder he bit, the harder he pulled, the wetter I got between my legs until I was in real danger of leaving a puddle on the mattress.
“You shouldn’t have kept me waiting,” he growled.
His cock—still damp from where I’d sucked him—brushed against the inside of my thigh while he devoured my nipples. It was just inches from my entrance. I had to have him. My body craved him, like it craved chocolate after a session at the gym. I burned for him. He had to get inside me.