I was all too happy to succumb to a Prince more cruel than charming (Patreon)

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It had been proposed to me as a marriage of convenience, of two families coming together, of historical ties bound forever. He was described to me as my one true ‘Prince Charming’. Of course, on meeting my Prince at the family palace for the first time I found out about his darker traits far faster than I had anticipated through his whispered tales and filthy desires away from prying eyes. 

He wasn’t like the books, like the sentimental movies where he waited on the princess at every turn and where he put the glass slipper on. He wasn’t anything out of a fairytale but he was far more than I dreamed. On our second meeting outside the palace we met in his exclusive Mayfair ensuite in London, limitless champagne flowed and a delirious taste for the wicked rested on my lips. I found out what it was like to get petulant with him, to get demanding when I hadn’t earned it. I saw the flash of anger when he pinned me to the table with one hand, parting me effortlessly, letting me get a glimpse of his power as his fingers clenched my neck. My pantyhose were ripped, my flesh was hit, my hands were bound, my teeth were sunk deep into my lips and my lungs hurt with each delicious blow from his powerful hips.

He didn’t pretend to be a good man, he didn’t disguise the bruises on my neck, the marks on my wrists and ankles. He was only interested in control with me and I was all too happy to oblige, I was all too happy to succumb to a Prince more cruel than charming.