King Charles III & Crusty Camilla's Tampon

II

Charles' pov

I awoke from my deep slumber, the room still as dark as the night sky. I tried to roll out of bed to put on my royal slippers, ready to start another arguement and blame it on Diana, followed by crying to mummy dearest.

But then I realised, I couldn't move. I was trapped; covered in a thick plastic like blanket, wherever I was trapped smelt like a public bathroom, one that my royal buttocks would never have to touch.

All of a sudden I was lifted up from the strange environment, and my blanket was torn off of me. It revealed a huge claw like hand, moving me towards their crusty body, placed upon a golden thrown.

It was my darling Camilla and I was her tampon. My wish had come true. I was about to shoved into her bleeding hole and kept their for hours on end. I watched her husband stealing, sausaged fingers hands, reaching under herself and force me the whole way inside.

She then got up and left without flushing or washing her hands. I loved dirty girls like her.

Author's Note

I hate me too, so don't worry about hating me, especially when the next chapter is going to be even worse...