Look At You, Sitting So Pretty On Your Throne. “Your Highness,” They Say. “Prince Of The Realm,”

look at you, sitting so pretty on your throne. “Your Highness,” they say. “Prince of the realm,” they call you. but do you remember the words I was whispering just hours prior? “my pretty boy,” you’d heard, while gasping at the teeth that nipped at your collarbones. “the royal slut,” you’d told me, when I asked of your title, while you lay draped across that throne of yours. crown askew, hair messy, pressing your hips against mine in an effort to take me as deep as you could, looking absolutely debauched. if you don’t recall, that’s perfectly fine, but when you make eye contact with me, standing amongst the royal guards & I give you that look, you’re going to remember. and I shall watch, pleased, as you squirm in your seat