Alla* följer kontot princess.madeleine.of.sweden på instagram, en fest i fanfiction om kungahuset, samtliga karaktärer på scen och med allas smeknamn flitigt upprepade. På engelska. Det är en sån härlig grej att kunna njuta av känslan av skam, äckel och själslig smuts utanför pornografi. Men varför stanna vid att känna skam inför kungafamiljens gullifiering och illa spelad incestantydningar med BJ’s när du kan kombinera de två? Läsare, här startar del ett i Mondokanels erotiska fanfiction om det svenska kungahuset!
Blue weekend, pt 1
Soffan looked over the pile of silk pillows that laid between her and her husband, Lippi, in the huge Hästens bed. She could barely make him out, but she knew he was there from the snores he let out, almost absurdely frequently. It was her own fault, she knew that. She’d let him drink too much, but she couldn’t help it. She just had to find some way to make him fall asleep immediately he went to bed. The touch of his clammy hands on her body made her flesh crawl.
Married only a year, and she already knew she’d made a mistake. What good was it being a princess when she couldn’t enjoy herself? As she laid there she suddenly remembered a night when she was still a teenager, a night she’d spent with a complete stranger who she only remember as being covered in black hair, and she smiled for the first time in days as her hand made her way under the duvet. She’d almost forgotten herself and reached her climax when another snore brought her back to reality, and the frustration made her kick the memory foam underneath her. Why, oh why, had she agreed to marry this worm of a man? She couldn’t remember anymore. Giving her husband another contemptuous look she decided to spend her day shopping and then left the bed wrapped in her silk gown she’d left next to the bed. She hated the idea of him seeing her nude, and so robes and gowns were strategically placed all over their home.
Alone in the bathroom she stared at herself in the mirror as she listlessly brushed her teeth. She used to be able to brush up at storm with all the exercise that particular muscle got, but now she had an electric. She glanced over to her drawer in the bathroom chest and thought about her other electric equipment and whether to bother finishing herself off thinking about her hairy stranger, but looking back into her eyes she knew she couldn’t get in the mood. Not this morning, with everything seeming so hopeless.
Fuck it. She may as well just get on with her day, and then the next day, the day after that and so on until she was an old woman. She knew she was a good-looking woman, and being covered in luxury and splashed out on gossip magazines all over the world she’d be a trophy fuck few men would turn down, and here she were. Alone and frustrated, furious with herself for letting her be trapped like this. She couldn’t help but think about her previous life, even though she knew it’d only make her more miserable to compare the two. She may have been trash, but she was well-satisfied trash. Drunk, drugged, laid, every weekend the same, blurring together now into what seemed like an endless supply of faceless bodies. Now she was a virgin again, she thought bitterly, spitting into the sink. Fuck it all.
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