This is the first chapter of an ongoing story. To write the next few installment I want feedback from my readers. Please email me with your ideas and feedback by filling out the form at the bottom of the page. Once I've had at least 30 pieces of feedback I will post the next installment.
Of course this is just fantasy... I need a proof reader also. Apply with form below.
The Blackmailing of Prince Harry. Part Two
Khaled Al Zamial reclined in his chair as a broad smile spread across his face. On the computer screen in front of him was a face he'd seen a thousand times, but never thought he'd see it contorted quite like this. The crystal clear image showed the flustered and slightly reddened and scared face of young Prince Harry. Slowly, and clearly under quite a bit of duress, Harry picked himself up off the chair he was sitting on and started posing in some very tight white boxer shorts.
Khaled couldn't believe what he was looking at. The video cut out before anything too sensitive was revealed but it was clear in Khaled's mind, as it would in the mind of anyone seeing such footage, that the young handsome Prince had obviously got himself into some serious trouble and now was paying for it in a very degrading but rather delicious way.
Khaled turned and looked out the window, from here in his office he could see most of the desert development his business was currently funding. Khaled was one of the richest men in his country and for a moment it did cross his mind that to buy two or three hours alone with the young Prince would cost more than 50 of his workers yearly salaries.
But it was worth it.
Khaled press the intercom buzzer on his desk and the voice of his secretary filled his air conditioned office.
"Please come back in here, collect this DVD and return in to the gentleman in the waiting room." Khaled said in his normal confident manner. Then there was a pause. One final consideration. "And tell the gentleman the answer is yes. I will buy what he is selling..."
****
Only two weeks later Prince Harry was sat on a sofa in Clarence House, a cup of tea in one hand and a disapproving face looking over at him.
"Three times!" The shrill woman squawked. "Three whole times in the last month or so that've left official events, residences, galas without a single minder or policeguard. Three times. That's three times you could have been hurt, attacked or...well...I shudder to think."
Harry took a small intake of breath. If only she knew what he had been doing "“ then she'd do more than shudder. The first time he'd asked for some "alone time" was his first ever meeting with Mark Hardcliffe: a well dressed middle aged man who'd had some very incriminating tapes of the young heir to the throne during his tour of duty in Afghanistan. Try as he might Harry had not been able to squirm his way out of the situation he'd ended up in. Someone had dirt on him. A whole world of dirt. Dirt that could bring down, not just his already marred reputation, but might have brought down his whole family.
"Are you listening to me?" the advisors shrill voice shattered Harry's thoughts. He'd be zoning out a lot recently and staring into space. Trying to think of a way out of his situation. He could just tell someone. That way they'd arrest Mr. Hardcliffe and all this would be over.
Except the videos of him killing an innocent young girl.
Except the videos of him posing in tight bespoke underwear.
Except...
Harry's mobile phone buzzed in his pocket and his stomach lurched. To avoid being detected, as much as possible, Harry had been issued with a second Blackberry. A single buzz in pocket indicated a normal message. A double buzz meant he was on call. And, in the near future, he was due to be humiliated in ways that a few months he wouldn't have thought possible.
"I "“ uh "“ have to excuse myself" Harry uttered in his cutglass accent. "Sorry, I've been called away. It's a total emergency. Sorry Jane. I'll "“ uh "“ be more proper in future. I've just been really "“ uh "“ distracted recently. I've needed some time alone."
Jane, raised her eyebrow, her expression as piercing as her vocal chords.
"You had better start pulling it together. I know you've got a reputation to live up to but a Playboy Prince doesn't have to risk his neck in order to enjoy himself. Understood?"
But it was too late, Harry was already at the door and walking at a fastening pace down a long art-laden corridor towards the nearest bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one member of his personal security moving down the corridor behind him. Suddenly, an idea hit Harry and he diverted his course, pacing down a small side passage which led him to a less decorative part of the stately building.
"Sir "“"Â Harry's minder echoed for an ever-increasing distance. "We have an appointment at -"
But Harry made one more swift turn and into a servant's bathroom. Locking the door behind him he could finally relax. Harry could feel his heart pounding under his tailored shirt and couldn't work out whether it was nerves at what message waiting on his blackberry could be or the unexpected sprint to privacy. Fishing his hand into his inside his pocket he pulled out Mark's blackberry.
BE AT RITZ HOTEL TONIGHT AT 1830 GMT. ROOM 372 FLOOR 3. EXECUTIVE KING ROOM- YOU'LL FEEL RIGHT AT HOME.
Harry glanced at his watch. The gleaming golden hands showed that it was already just gone 5 o'clock. The phone buzzed again and Harry's heart almost jumped into his throat.
IF YOURE NOT THERE ALL THE TAPES WILL BE RELEASED. AND YES, ALL THE TAPES.
Harry had met Mark since their first meeting and Mark had made him film something that was so illegal and vile that Harry would be lucky not to go to prision. His mind started to wander to some of the images that he was made to pleasure himself, on camera, while looking at. An ice trickle of sweat dripped down Harry's back just at the thought of what he'd allowed himself to be filmed doing. He couldn't say no.
His eyes darted to the window. The reason he'd come into this bathroom was so that he could exit onto the fire escape and climb down the steps at the side of the building. This single room lavatory meant his protector had to wait outside.
"My stomach is really playing up" Harry shouted. A muffled sound of acknowledgment came from the other side of the door. "Give me a few minutes."
Harry lost no time in opening the fire exit window and climbing up onto the old Victorian sink, his trousers clinging to his legs and body as he contorted his body as his pulled his body out of the window. Slowly setting his feet down on the metal fire escape so as not to make a sound, Harry hurriedly moved along the walkway and down the rusted steps to the alleyway by the side of the kitchens.
By luck a taxi was parked by one of the side doors.
"Can I put this on account?" Harry said glancing his head round the window of the taxi. The driver double-took looking at the handsome young Prince staring back at him.
"Yeah, of course. Well "“ there's a limit to the account expenses...but for you I'm sure that wouldn't apply. Shouldn't you take one of the State cars? I don't want to get in trouble."
Harry had already jumped into the back.
"I promise you won't get in trouble. Please just drive me. The Ritz. Central London."
"I know where the Ritz is mate. I mean, your Highness."
"Call me Harry. Look I need to keep a low profile." Harry explained as he sunk down into his seat so as not to be seen by the armed guards on the way out of the building.
"Fine. If I get fired for this I better get a knighthood for this" The driver smirked as the car started to move down the alleyway. "The Ritz eh? Meeting a girl friend of yours?"
"Sort of." Harry responded, his throat dry from the thought.
*****
The sound of a carriage clock chimed in the grand hotel room at the Ritz. Half Six. A small knock made Mark Hardcliffe stand up from the bed, stroll across the finely woven carpet, past the immaculate furniture, dirty smirk on his face swung open the door. There he was Prince Harry, alone and ready to be used.
"Glad you turned up, boy". Mark said with his normal levels of callousness. Harry winced at the way Mark spat the word "boy" at him. "How did his Royal Highness get away? Or our his Minders downstairs, desparately wanting to have a go on luscious young body of the boy Prince?"
"You're sick" said Harry with pure resentment but yet a resigned quality, knowing he was trapped in this situation.
"Am I?" said Mark, in a suddenly faux polite voice, as he strutted over to Harry and with one motion moved his hand and cupped the bulge between Harry's legs with a firms grip as if he was feeling a piece of ripe fruit. "What ever gave you the impression that I was sick?"
Harry took an instant step back.
"Your balls feel pretty heavy Harry. Maybe our business man will get extra value for money today. Lucky him. Now, my little Prince..." Mark stretched out his words as he walked back across the room and sat down on a chair facing the awkward looking Harry who was still standing by the door, not sure where to place himself, "strip."
Harry looked for a moment if he was going to fight back. Not used to taking orders at all, he'd had trouble even in the Army, but now every word Mark Hardcliffe said to him made Harry want to attack him. However, feeling as helpless as a worm on the end of a hook, Harry decided to comply. He bent over to untie his shoes.
"No,no. Your shirt first." Mark said, casually raising up his mobile phone to film the young Prince stripping off. "I suppose how to strip off properly so as to fully stimulate your audience is one of the few protocols you've never been taught eh, Harry?"
Harry's perfect white teeth began to grind involuntarily in his mouth. His face red with anger as much as humiliation now. Slowly and pointedly Harry's large yet boyish hand flicked each of his shirts buttons open, his muscled yet young chest flashing into view with each motion.
"Just drop it to the floor. Although there aren't any servants to pick up after you here. You're a little runt boy now aren't you boy?" Harry dropped his shirt to the floor. "Well boy? Look into my little camera lens in here and tell me what you are. Now boy..."
Harry looked with pure hatred in his face. The intensity of his glare, if it could have, would have melted the mobile phone being pointed at him.
"I'm a little runt boy." Harry's hands now lowered, his eyes focused on the camera-phone as if it was going to pull his eyes from sockets. "I'm..." Belt buckle undone. " a little". Harry bends over, head up still looking into the camera. "runt". Trousers down. "Boy". And Harry is left stepping out of his hand tailored trousers, shoes still on, just wearing some tight white Calvin Kliens.
"My my. In those Calvin Kliens and with your red hair you could simply be just another council estate Chav. But you're not are you? Oh no. You're a real catch." Mark lowered his phone and walked up young Prince, standing, oddly in just his shoes and his boxers. Moving suddenly Mark grabbed a fist full of Harry's ginger hair and pulled his head back, laughing Mark moved in and thrust his tongue into Harry's mouth while his other hand groped round Harry's back and moved down to grope the boy's tight and pert ass cheeks.
"Not bad, boy. Not bad." Mark drawled as he stepped back. "Now bend over and take your shoes off." Harry slowly bent over. Mark took a moment to savour the situation. Here he had one of the young Princes of England who was on the verge of being broken in. His hand freely groped Harry's perfect ass cheeks as he bent over.
As soon as Harry could he straightened up again, now just wearing his boxers.
"Over into the bedroom now, Harry."
"Are you going to...going to fuck me?"
"God, it sounds good when you say it in your ultra plumy voice, Harry." As they moved towards the bedroom Harry's skin froze when he saw what was waiting for him. There attached to the bedposts were some heavy duty metal shackles and handcuffs.
"What are you going to do?"
"Just get on the bed, bitch."
Harry slowly sat on the bed and got into position. Before he knew it he felt the cold metal secure itself around his ankles, one at a time. Then around his wrists. He tried to move but couldn't. The cold metal felt like a bucket of water being thrown on him "“ wakening him up to what was happening to him. He was Prince Harry. And here he was in a hotel room being prepared as a fucktoy. He tried to move, but it was helpless. He was helpless.
Then there was a knock at the door. Mark's face lit up.
"Oh, Harry. You're first ever client is here. Say goodbye to whatever's left of your dignity. To your pride. And to your tight little royal boy-cherry. Now the real fun begins..."
This is the first chapter of an ongoing story. To write the next few installment I want feedback from my readers. Please email me with your ideas and feedback by simply filling out the form at the bottom of this page! Of course this is just fantasy... I need a proof reader also. Apply below.
Please email [email protected] with feedback - this form doesn't appear to be working!