By Royal Command

That following Tuesday Mark was ten minutes late for our meeting, and I began to fear he was going to make an excuse not to show up. Just as I started to panic a footman showed him through the visitor's entrance to the sitting room. Looking flushed, Mark blustered, "Please forgive me your majesty, the Opposition forced an early vote on something, trying to catch us off guard." If I had worried that Mark might have cold feet about what had happened the previous week, I needn't have. The moment the footman had left, the Prime Minister dropped his attaché case, slipped off his suit jacket, came and sat beside me on the settee, and wrapped me in his arms, kissing me. Between kisses, he murmured, "God, it was difficult seeing you across the table at that dinner last Friday. I only had to look at you and I started getting hard."

I was surprised and thrilled at his words. Taking one of his hands and cupping it around my breast, I said, "I'm glad you feel that way, Mark darling, because I've got a little surprise for you tonight."

After a few minutes I took his hand from my breast and placed it on my knee, under my skirt. His eyes opened in surprise, but closed again as my fingers, encircling his wrist, eased the hand up my leg. I released it and Mark needed no further encouragement. After a few moments his eyes snapped open again, and he pulled his lips away from mine and exclaimed, "Fuck!"

I giggled, and whispered, "Promise?" Mark had just discovered my secret -- I'd decided to leave my panties off for our meeting. Still chuckling, I said, "Well, all my knickers are in the wash, what's a girl to do?" Then I gasped, and my eyes snapped shut as, quickly adapting to the situation, my lover trailed a fingertip up the length of my pussy slit. In a rush, I tugged at his trousers, undoing his belt and fly, and gaining my first view of his beautiful penis. As I felt his fingers enter my womanhood, on impulse I ducked my head and slid my lips down the length of his cock.

Within a few minutes we were both moaning and sighing. It had never occurred to me to wonder what a man's organ would feel like in my mouth, but I found I loved it as it nestled against the inside of my cheek, or knocked gently against the roof of my mouth. Licking its length and slurping my lips up and down it was an amazing experience. Meanwhile, Mark had one hand in my bra, rolling a nipple between finger and thumb, while with the other he stroked and poked my pussy, driving me wild with lust.

Just as I thought I was going to explode onto his hand, Mark eased my mouth off him and pushed me back on the settee, my skirt up around my waist and me knees splayed wide apart. He gazed at his prize for a moment, then began to manoeuvre his shaft between my legs. He looked as if he was about to ask something, but I anticipated him. "It's okay, I'm on the Pill." Good old Sophie. With that assurance Mark placed his hands on my shoulders and drove his prick deep into my cunt. I couldn't help squealing as he surged up me: he felt enormous inside me, very different from the little boy's toy which had been my only previous experience. I wrapped my legs around him and gasped with each stroke. It only took perhaps six or seven before I felt my pussy come to the boil, and my insides melt as I screamed to the first real orgasm of my life. Mark continued pumping at me for a couple of minutes before he finally came, subsiding onto me with a smile. "Jesus, I can't believe this. I came here to talk about troop movements on the Albanian border, and instead I find myself making love to the most desired woman on the planet."

After that there was no stopping us. We got the political stuff out of the way as quickly as possible, then spent the rest of our time together making love. Usually we would actually fuck, but sometimes, when I had a period, for example, I was happy just to kneel on the floor and suck him off, finding I was enjoying more and more the feel of his knob in my mouth, and his jizz shooting into my throat. I hardly saw him during the summer Parliamentary recess, and it was sheer hell.

At Christmas I invited Mark and his wife to stay at Windsor Castle with me and the various family members who turn up on these sorts of occasions. To my relief their daughter couldn't come as she was spending the holiday on a kibbutz in Israel. At dinner my mother drank rather too much wine and started asking me in a loud slurred voice whether it wasn't time for me to find a royal consort. I thought it was going to be agony being in the same room as Mark without being able to touch him, but that night, as I lay in my bedroom, I heard a soft tapping on the door, then it opened. I heard whispering, and although I couldn't make out the words I recognised one of the voices as Sophie's. A moment later the side of the bed sagged and Mark slipped under the duvet beside me. Delighted and shocked at the same time, I asked where his wife was. "Julia's asleep in bed. Don't worry, she and I have a sort of arrangement, anyway."

I suddenly felt a pang of doubt, and asked hesitantly, "Mark, you're not just doing this because of...well, who I am, are you?"

He leaned over me and locked his eyes on mine. "No, I'm doing it because you're an extremely beautiful, intelligent, witty, elegant, sophisticated woman, who I've fallen deeply in love with. I know it's crazy, with the difference in our ages, and everything else, but when I'm with you I don't give a toss about that." He sniggered, then added, "Of course, it helps that you're also one of the richest women on earth, and that you've got great tits and fuck like a rabbit." I feigned to slap him -- bastard!

I slipped off my nightdress, then Mark pressed me back into the bed and we kissed for a long time. For the first time I felt his naked body pressing full length against my own, his already hard cock nudging against one of my thighs. He stroked his lips down to my throat, then to my breasts, sucking and licking one of my nipples while he squeezed the other between his fingers, and I stroked my fingers across his back. Then his mouth carried on moving south. I moaned, and trembled in anticipation of where he was going. When he stroked his tongue the length of my slit I thought I was going to jump six feet off the bed! His fingers inside me had always been great, but that silky smooth tongue was out of this world. I squirmed and moaned as he finger fucked me, while teasing his tongue deep inside me and licking up to my clitoris, which he flicked over and over with the tip of his tongue. He was driving me wild, and I felt my hips buck as my pussy soaked his face and I wailed like a banshee. I'm just glad no servants or family members heard and came to investigate!

No sooner had I finished cumming than Mark slid back up the bed, hooking his elbows behind my knees and pulling them up with him. He slid his prick into me, and proceeded to give me the deepest, hardest fuck I'd ever had. I came again before, with a huge gasp, the Prime Minister shot his load into me. After we'd had a rest, I sucked Mark off, then we lay drowsing in each other's arms, waking occasionally to kiss or for him to nuzzle my boobs, until, in the early hours of the morning, there was another soft tap on the door and Sophie led my lover back the safe way to his own room. Then I slept for about five hours, enjoying the most luscious dreams, and the wonderful ache between my thighs. I thought nothing could happen to taint my happiness.

Just three weeks later, I found out how wrong I could be. I received an unusual request from Mark for an audience at three o'clock on a Thursday afternoon. Naively hoping it was because he was desperate to see me I waited, intrigued. When he arrived he looked ashen-faced and, standing well back from me, said very formally, "Your majesty, I wish to seek your leave to resign my position as your Prime Minister and call a general election."

I stared at him in stunned disbelief. Another election wasn't due for two years. My head spinning, I asked Mark what this meant. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, "Well ma'am, it means the voters get to have their say in who runs the country, and a month from now it'll be the witch from Welwyn who's standing here." Then his shoulders sagged, as if the strength had drained from his body. "We just can't sustain our majority any longer. We're going to have to go to the country, and we'll lose. I'll resign my seat after the election and take up a few company directorships."

Feeling as if my head was stuffed with cotton wool, I mumbled, "But what about us...how can we..."

He shook his head. "We can't. This is it I'm afraid." Seeing the tears forming in my eyes, he came and sat next to me, and took my hand. "Vicki, darling, I love you, and I will always love you. But there's no way we can continue to see each other once I'm out of office. We won't have any opportunities, and nowhere will be safe for us to meet. I'd leave Julia for you tomorrow if I could, but it's just impossible."

I ignored the feeling of the tears rolling down my cheeks. "Why is it impossible? Leave her and marry me. I'll abdicate if that's what it takes, Edward the Eighth did it." I was aware I was whining like a petulant child, but I didn't care.

Mark smiled sadly. "You might not have to abdicate. The witch has promised that her first action in government will be to organise a referendum on abolition of the monarchy. Nothing personal, you understand." The last sentence was said with irony. Ever since Scotland had declared independence in 2014 there had been a lively constitutional debate in progress, and republicanism was a fast-growing force. I barely heard as Mark continued, "If we were to marry we'd be dragged into the streets and publicly lynched. People would never wear it."

After he left I called for Sophie. I tried to explain, but my throat felt too tight. I just managed, "Oh Sophie," before I ran sobbing into her arms. I followed the election with fascination, and sat up half the night on polling day, watching the TV coverage, praying for a miracle. Only when it was clear that the opposition party were going to have an overall majority of at least 20 seats did I finally crawl miserably to bed. It was with no pleasure the following day that I greeted the smug, overbearing bitch who'd defeated Mark, and acceded to her request to be allowed to form a new government. I wept again hours later when, on the steps of 10 Downing Street, I watched TV as Mark announced that he was resigning as an MP.

Things happened quickly after that. The media were hotly divided on the issue of the monarchy, some newspapers dismissing it as an anachronism, other pointing out that royalty attracted millions of tourist Euros into the economy. Some commentators said I was the most popular monarch since my great grandmother, and that the country should transform into a republic only after my death, others said that, given that I could live for another seventy years or more, that was ridiculous. There were huge debates about what the abolition of the monarchy in the UK would mean for the Commonwealth countries which still recognised me as head of state. As the day of the vote approached, it looked as if the result was going to be too close to call. I decided, however, that I had had enough, and that without Mark I couldn't face going on for another seventy days, let alone seventy years. And so, the day before the referendum, aged 19 and after reigning for less than a year, I announced my abdication from the throne, in favour of my elderly uncle.

It's hard to believe all that was less than two years ago; it seems so distant. I live a long was from Britain now, in quiet seclusion. I get visits from the occasional journalist, but really it's remarkable how quickly people forget. I'm sitting on a beautiful golden beach, having just finished my daily three-mile run. Soon I'll stroll back through the dunes to the horse stud farm I'm establishing. I feel myself smile as my husband approaches me along the sand. A tall figure with dark hair, beginning to grey in a most distinguished fashion at the temples. He still reminds me of Timothy Dalton. Our love has been called everything from a constitutional outrage to the most extraordinary romance in history. I don't care what anyone else thinks. I'm just revelling in the joy of being the Right Honourable Mrs Mark Prentiss.