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Their Majesties as I Knew Them / Personal Reminiscences of the Kings and Queens of Europe by Xavier Paoli
The infinitely fascinating and melancholy image of the Empress Elizabeth of Austria represents a special type among all the royal and imperial majesties to whose persons I have been attached during their different stays in France; and this both on account of her life, which was one long romance, and of her death, which was a tragedy.
Hers was a strong, sad soul; and she disappeared suddenly, as in a dream of terror. She hovers round my memory crowned with the halo of unhappiness.
The first time that I saw her was at Geneva; and I cannot recall this detail without emotion, for it was at Geneva that she was to die under the assassin's dagger. At the end of August, 1895, the Government received notice from the French Embassy in Vienna that the Empress was about to visit Aix-les-Bains in Savoy. She was to travel from her palace of Miramar through Italy and Switzerland; and, as usual, I received my formal letter of appointment from the Ministry of the Interior, instructing me to go and meet the Empress at the International railway-station at Geneva.
I confess that, when I stepped into the train, I experienced a keen sense of curiosity at the thought that I was soon to find myself in the presence of the lady who was already surrounded by an atmosphere of legend and who was known as "the wandering empress."
I had been told numerous more or less veracious stories of her restless and romantic life; I had heard that she talked little, that she smiled but rarely and that she always seemed to be pursuing a distant dream.
My first impression, however, when I saw her alighting from her carriage on the Geneva platform, was very different from that which I was prepared to receive. The Empress, at that time, was fifty-eight years of age. She looked like a girl, she had the figure of a girl, with a girl's lightness and grace of movement.
Tall and slender, with a touch of stiffness in her bearing, she had a rather fresh-coloured face, deep, dark and extraordinarily bright eyes and a wealth of chestnut hair. I realised later that she owed her vivacious colouring to the long walks which she was in the constant habit of taking. She wore a smartly-cut black tailor-made dress, which accentuated her slimness. The beauty of her figure was a matter of which she was frankly vain; she weighed herself every day.
I was also struck by the smallness of her hands, the musical intonation of her voice and the purity with which she expressed herself in French, although she pronounced it with a slightly guttural accent.
One disappointment, however, awaited me; my reception was icy cold. In spite of the experience which I had acquired during the exercise of my special functions, it left me none the less disconcerted. My feeling of discomfort was still further increased when, on reaching Aix-les-Bains, General Berzeviczy, whom I had asked for an interview in order to arrange for the organisation of my department, answered drily:
"We sha'n't want anybody."
These four words, beyond a doubt, constituted a formal dismissal, an invitation, both plain and succinct, to take the first train back to Paris. My position became one of singular embarrassment. Invested with a confidential mission, I was beginning by inspiring distrust precisely in those to whom this mission was addressed; charged to watch and remove "suspects," I myself appeared to be the most suspected of all!
Nevertheless, I resolved that I would not be denied. I organised my service without the knowledge of our guests. Every morning, I returned to see General Berzeviczy. Avoiding any allusion to the real object of my visit, I did my best to overcome his coldness. The general was a very kind man at heart and a charming talker. I therefore told him the gossip of the day, the news from Paris, the tittle-tattle of Aix. I advised excursions, pointed out the curiosities worth seeing, conscientiously fulfilled my part as a Baedeker, and, when I carelessly questioned the general concerning the Empress's intentions as to the employment of her day, he forgot himself to the extent of telling me. This was all that I wanted to know.
In a week's time we were the best of friends. The Empress had condescended to appreciate my frankness in daily covering the table with newspapers and reviews. She gradually became accustomed to seeing me appear just in time to forestall her wishes. The game was won; and, when, later, curious to know the cause of what appeared to me to have been a misunderstanding, I asked General Berzeviczy to explain the reason of his disconcerting reception, he replied:
"It was simply because, when we go abroad, they generally send us officials who, under the pretext of protecting us, terrorise us. They appear to us like Banquo's ghost, with doleful faces and shifting eyes; they see assassins everywhere; they poison and embitter our holidays. That is why you appeared so suspicious to us at first."
"And now?"
"Now," he answered with a smile, "the experiment has been made. You have fortunately broken with an ugly tradition. In your case, we forget the official, and remember only the friend."
Madisyn was stunned to discover that she was not her parents' biological child. Due to the real daughter's scheming, she was kicked out and became a laughingstock. Thought to be born to peasants, Madisyn was shocked to find that her real father was the richest man in the city, and her brothers were renowned figures in their respective fields. They showered her with love, only to learn that Madisyn had a thriving business of her own. "Stop pestering me!" said her ex-boyfriend. "My heart only belongs to Jenna." "How dare you think that my woman has feelings for you?" claimed a mysterious bigwig.
"I've warned you from the beginning. Don't marry him, but you won't listen." She stood close to me and smiled with concern. "You are not a woman worthy of a man as handsome, rich, smart, and virile as Blaze." My whole body trembled at her words. "Have you no shame?" I asked in a quivering voice. "Take a good look at yourself, Heather." She looked at me in the mirror. "You can't even look at your ugly face. Do you think Blaze can endure a lifetime of looking at that face?" Heather Bailey had a surprise from her husband that night: a divorce agreement. After a year of marriage and facing ups and downs, she couldn't believe Blaze intended to divorce her. But she was devastated when she saw him gazing lovingly at another woman because that person was closest to her. Shortly after she put her signature on their divorce papers, shock waves caught her up. Her flower shop was severely burnt, beyond repair. Her father's company collapsed, and her parents blamed her. She struggled to rebuild her life from the ground up and became more successful than ever. Having many customers who came from influential families, she started her action against Blaze. She won the very thing he wanted. But that was just the beginning.
They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."
"I'm going to tell you what I have in mind," he murmured. "First you're going to strip down until you're completely naked," he whispered against her ear. "Then I'm going to tie you up so you're completely powerless and subject to my every whim." "Mmm, sounds good so far," she murmured. "Then I'm going to insert a plug to prepare you for me. After that I'm going to spank that sweet ass of yours until it's rosy with my marks." She shivered uncontrollably, her mind exploding with the images he evoked. She let out a small whimper as he sucked the lobe of her ear into his mouth. God, she could cum with just his words. She was already aching with need. Her nipples tingled and hardened to painful points. Her clit pulsed and twitched between her legs until she clamped her thighs together to alleviate the burn. "And then I'm going to f**k your mouth. But I won't cum. Not yet. When I'm close, I'll flog you again until your ass is burning and you're on fire with the need for relief. And then I'm going to f**k that ass. I'm going to take you hard and rough, to the very limits of what you can withstand. I won't be gentle. Not tonight. I'm going to take you as roughly as you can stand. And then I'm going to cum all over your ass. Are you ready to be completely and utterly dominated?"
When Zora was sick during the early days of her pregnancy, Ezrah was with his first love, Piper. When Zora got into an accident and called Ezrah, he said he was busy, when in actual fact, he was buying shoes for Piper. Zora lost her baby because of the accident, and throughout her stay at the hospital, Ezrah never showed up. She already knew that he didn't love her, but that was the last straw for the camel's back, and her fragile heart could not take it anymore. When Ezrah arrived home a few days after Zora was discharged from the hospital, he no longer met the woman who always greeted him with a smile and cared for him. Zora stood at the top of the stairs and yelled with a cold expression, "Good news, Ezrah! Our baby died in a car accident. There is nothing between us anymore, so let's get a divorce." The man who claimed not to have any feelings for Zora, being cold and distant towards her, and having asked her for a divorce twice, instantly panicked.
After my family's sinister plots collapsed, they lashed out at me, taking their rage to a violent level. Cornered and desperate, I married Jaxton—the town's most sought-after bachelor—due to an unplanned pregnancy. Love had no part in this marriage; I assumed he married me purely out of responsibility, his heart belonging elsewhere. The moment I chose to let him go and turned to leave, he grabbed me and pinned me down hard. "Jaxton, you promised you'd never touch me!" I snapped, glaring fiercely. His eyes flashed arrogantly as he leaned closer. "You're the one who started this!"