The Pretty Men of the Harem Pt. 02

Literotic asexstories – The Pretty Men of the Harem Pt. 02 by Aeaea,Aeaea
Second part of my role reversal universe. Read the first part, be a dear and pay attention to the tags listed.

All characters are 18+.

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2. Surrender and Obedience

Elias woke up with a new resolve, sharp and feral.

He wouldn’t be some plaything discarded at the end of the week. No, he craved a permanent place by the Queen’s side, he craved her attention, not as a dancer, but as a man reshaped by her touch. He needed a plan and he needed to move fast, to impress her and prove himself worthy of her.

And he was going to start right away.

Of course, slumbering beside the Queen was a privilege reserved for the gods, not poor mortal dancers like him. Yet, the sheer immensity of the bed offered a sliver of solace. The night before he had positioned himself at the very edge, as far from the headboard as physically possible, his body not even brushing her feet. Despite the distance, this meager proximity sent a thrill through him. It was a start, a physical connection, however tenuous. An absurd sense of closeness bloomed in his chest. He was under the same roof, in the same bedchamber, a mere breath away from the woman who had ignited this firestorm within him. For now, it would have to suffice, it was going to be his starting point.

While the first blush of dawn crept through the drapes, the Queen continued her undisturbed slumber. He wouldn’t start with grand gestures, no. He would begin subtly, etching himself into her morning routine.

With a calculated tenderness, he inched closer. He nudged her bare feet with the tip of his nose, a playful gesture that bordered on the daring. Then, lightly, he began to pepper her toes with soft, kitten licks. The touch of her skin, impossibly soft, felt warm against his rougher tongue. He traced the delicate curves of each toe, venturing between them with a barely-there pressure.

“Mmh…” a soft moan escaped his lips, barely audible.

A part of him immediately grew terrified of her disapproval, but a primal hungry voice inside of him urged him on. He continued his ministrations, his tongue now a brushstroke against the cool skin of her arch. He lingered there, swirling patterns with the wet tip of his tongue. A delicious tension coiled tighter inside him with each deliberate stroke, and with his arousal, he became more daring. His tongue abandoned the arch and dipped back between the first and second toes, creating a suction with his lips. Then it danced between her second and third toe, trying to find a hidden pressure point that would elicit some kind of reaction from his Queen, but in vain. His own breath hitched as he reached the smallest toe, the pinkie, sucking it harsher this time.

Elias continued his journey. His focus narrowed, the world dissolving into the sensation of her soft skin against his tongue. He began licking her ankles with reverence and adoration.

“What are you doing?” her voice shattered the silence of the room.

His head shot up, faster than a startled deer, his tongue withdrawing instinctively. His eyes, wide and round, met hers. She was wide awake looking at him with a hint of amusement.

His mind, momentarily scrambled by the sudden shift, stammered for a response. “I, uh,” he began, his voice barely above a croak. “I just… wanted to wake you, my Queen.”

Her gaze remained fixed on him, “well,” she breathed, “If you want to properly wake me up you need to lick somewhere higher than that.”

A challenge he couldn’t ignore.

He swallowed hard, with a trembling breath, he obeyed. Abandoning the safety of her ankles, he started peppering soft kisses across the smooth skin of her calves, the thin silk of her nightgown doing little to impede his touches. He lingered at the back of her knees before climbing higher, savoring the heady perfume of her skin.

But before his tongue could venture further, her hand, strong and unforgiving, shot out and grasped him by his long ash-brown hair with a force that sent a yelp escaping his lips. He was yanked forward, his face pressed directly on her silk – covered pussy.

“I said higher,” she commanded, her voice a guttural rasp laced with impatience. The raw need in her tone was a stark contrast to the composed queen he’d known.

In another swift motion, she yanked the garment upwards, underlying her needs.

“Oh!” he gasped. His eyes widened as he was so close to the raw beauty of her exposed pussy.

And then, there was the scent. Her scent. The strong musk of arousal made his head dizzy and his mouth water uncontrollably. He stared, unblinking, at her desire, laid bare and undeniable, it demanded his complete attention. A sheen of sweat formed on his forehead as he slowly inched forward and started to gently brush the outside of her folds, teasing them.

A sharp “tsk” ripped from her lips, “do you think I like it slow?” she asked, her voice dripping with a seductive sarcasm. He was about to prove himself worthy of her, and he was already failing.

“Come on, pretty boy,” she drawled, the amusement in her eyes held a dangerous glint. “Are you going to be useful this morning, or are you just going to stare at my cunt all day?”

So, he shifted his tactic. Gone were the controlled exploration and the lingering soft touches, replaced by a feverish assault of hot quick licks. He used his fingers to spread her open and deepen his licks, till his tongue found her clit. His movements become frantic, each lick was a pleading touch, a fumbled attempt to please her. But the urgency felt clumsy in its desperation.

He heard her sharp exhales of frustration, a counterpoint to the frantic drumming of his own heart. Elias quickened his pace, his licks stumbling over themself, trancing a confusing path; his tongue an uncoordinated explorer, lost in a maze of heated flesh.

Another harsh “tsk” cut through the air, a sound that scraped against his already frayed nerves. Unsatisfied, frustrated, her voice held a dangerous edge when she spoke, “has Gregor taught you anything about how to eat some noble pussy?”

The movement of his tongue ceased. Panic, a cold dread, rose like bile in his throat. His mind scrambled for a coherent response, but all he could manage was a fumbled stammer.

“I-I thought…” he began, his voice cracking with a mixture of fear and desperation. But the words died in his throat, choked by the weight of his inadequacy. Shame burned hot in his cheeks.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension and humiliation. He stole a glance at her, bracing himself for a further outburst or disgust. But instead of anger, he saw something else flicker in her eyes – a flicker of the amusement that never leaved her and perhaps even a hint of pity.

“Well,” she finally said, a slow, predatory smile curved her lips. “Perhaps it’s time I take matters into my own hands.”

The Queen released her iron grip on his head, but not for a moment of respite. It was a predator releasing its prey, only to reposition for a more devastating strike. Her hands shot out again, swift and purposeful, back on his scalp. This time, both of her hands had a vice-like grip on his hair, her fingers digging and pulling his roots with a painful intensity.

“Ow,” he winced, the sharp sting a jolt that momentarily banished his humiliation. In the pain of her forceful hold, he found an anchor, a bizarre sense of security.

“Hands behind your back,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. Without a moment’s hesitation, his limbs obeyed. He felt the vulnerability of his exposed position, the complete lack of control.

“Tongue out,” was her next command. He complied, his tongue lolling out in a sheepish but eager gesture.

A hint of a smile played on her lips. It wasn’t a full-blown grin, but a subtle curve at the corner of her mouth, a silent acknowledgment of his willingness.

With a graceful movement, she shifted and spread her legs wider, settling into a more comfortable position. Before he could react, she slammed his face back into her hot wet pussy.

Elias couldn’t help but make a pathetic noise, while his tongue was thrusted forward and relentless moved back and forth. The iron grip in his hair hurt, a throbbing ache that pulsed with each forceful movements of her hands and still his body, initially stiff with surprise, went lax in surrender. She was guiding him, giving him the right direction.

“That’s it, pretty boy,” she said satisfied, grounding her pussy against his tongue and keeping brutally moving his head.

Her eyes burned with a predatory hunger that both terrified and exhilarated him. They bored into him, daring him to break free from her raw energy.

But resistance wasn’t the game she was playing. He was sure of that.

With a subtle shift in his weight, he leaned into the pressure of her hands, into her painful grip and moaned. A surprised flicker crossed the Queen’s eyes, a flicker of something that might have been…approval? Oh, the things he would do, if it meant to see a real approval in her hungry eyes.

She, however, remained a tempest in human form. She kept guiding his head back and forth, rocking her hips and grinding herself against his face with a primal ferocity. Her cruel grip in his hair intensified, if he’d thought the initial grasp was harsh, it paled in comparison to this. It was a vise, a brand searing into his scalp, reminding him that his face, his tongue, his saliva, his nose were just tools. There was no room for his comfort, no consideration for his pain – only the relentless pursuit of her own escalating pleasure.

The room echoed with her moans of pleasure and the hurried wet sounds of his tongue coated with her arousal. She rolled her hips, grinding against his face, successfully trapping his nose between her folds and her clit.

“Ahhh!” as she came with a long deep moan and her head rolled onto the plush cushion, he was close to passing out due to the lack of oxygen and very close to cum himself.

Her grip slackened; her body melted into the sheets with a contented sigh. As for him, the aftermath was a stark contrast. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale a desperate attempt to fill his starved lungs while he slowly lowered his arms back to his sides. She reached out, her touch for the first time gentle as she stroked across the damp hair on his head. With a soft nudge, she guided his chin upwards, forcing him to meet her gaze.

Elias battered face, flushed a deep, mottled red. It was a roadmap of exertion. His jaw ached with the strain of the unusual position, a dull throb radiating with each breath. His mouth, slack and ajar, seemed to hold a silent plea for a moment’s respite. His eyes, wide and unblinking, held a wild glint.

And he didn’t care about any of that. He might have been on the brink of collapse, and still pride bloomed within him. Nothing was import but the clear sticky liquid covering him from his nose to his chin.

The intense taste of her cum on his lips was maddening, almost overwhelming.

“Well, look at you,” a husky chuckle escaped her lips, “looking like a child that has dipped headfirst into a honey jar.” Oh! He was more than ready to gather all that honey and gulp it down.

“What a delightful mess,” she hummed and with a finger she smeared her juices across his lips, “the perfect picture of the prettiest boy ever.”

“You think so, my Queen?” he stammered; his voice rough with exertion but laced with a newfound confidence.

“Humm.” Leaning in closer, she brushed her lips against his ear, “and do you want to know what, pretty boy?” her voice dropped to a whisper, a secret shared only between them. “You really put me in the right mood,” she murmured.

A slow smile spread across her face, as she reached his plump ass and squeezed; that seemed to be her favorite activity. A jolt shot through him as he remembered the ministrations of the day before, the way his ass painfully stretched around what she had described as her smallest dildo.

Wasn’t she implying she was about to take him again, was she? A wave of confusion washed over him. Wasn’t the test supposed to be over? She came so hard, how was it possible she would enjoy opening him up with a new dildo? He wasn’t sure if his body, or his mind, could handle more in that very moment. The questions whirled in his mind. Maybe he was wrong, but the playful glint in her eyes, the suggestive husk in her voice, told a different story.

“Now, now, there’s no need to get all flustered, sweetheart,” she cooed, “we have only just begun.”

He gulped, a dry, ragged swallow.

“Don’t touch anything,” she winked, “don’t you dare twitch a single muscle while I fetch some new treasures from my collection.” Another order before turning and sauntering towards the nearby chest.

The way her hips swayed with each step sent a jolt of heat through him, a cruel reminder of his untouched hard cock. He obeyed of course, willing his ragged breaths to slow.

Elias saw her returning completely bare, in her hand, she clutched a four balls dildo, at least an inch longer and larger than the one she’d used the day before, and another intricate harness.

The Queen approached the bed, her eyes never leaving his. “I want to look at your fucked up face while my cum dries on it, whit this,” she said, indicating the new dildo, “planted deep into your pretty ass,” her voice dropped to a husky whisper, a sound like velvet gliding over silk, sending a tremor of anticipation through him.

With a practiced grace, born of countless encounters, she began to secure the harness around her own body. Cool leather against hot skin. “So,” she continued, her voice still soft, but the underlying command unmistakable, “come here. On top of me.”

Laid down, looking every inch the goddess he’d dared to touch, she coated every ball of the dildo in a thick layer of lube.

Hesitantly, he approached her stealing a glance at her, searching for a clue, a hint of how to proceed.

“There,” she sighed, a satisfied smirk gracing her lips as she discarded the lube. “Are my instructions too hard to understand for your pretty little head, hmm?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, “are you playing dumb, pretty boy?”

He opened his mouth to retort, to defend himself from her barbs, but the words wouldn’t come. “No, I— I want…” he stammered. He wanted to be perfect for his Queen. But the sheer intensity of it all, the relentless pace she set, left him breathless and unsure, so his answer died on his lips.

“No, you want what?” she taunted, “just yesterday you begged me to take you with me and be opened by my nice fake cocks. Wasn’t that what you wanted, sit on my dildos?” she asked again, “So, sit on it.”

He submitted without a word. Carefully he positioned himself above her, hovering above the 6 inches- beaded dildo and admiring her round soft breasts. For a brief moment he thought to ask for her permission to kiss and lick them, before his attention was caught by her roaming hands.

She caressed his ass and took a handful of each of his globes, spreading them apart, making easier for him to slide on the first little ball of the dildo.

“Oh,” his breath hitched in his throat, caught between a gasp of surprise and a groan of desire. His body, both weary and yearning, was a battleground of conflicting impulses – the need for escape the intrusion in him fighting with the addictive pull of her and the pleasure of her control over him.

She squeezed and pushed his ass until the second ball slid inside him. Again, Elias was just a puppet in her strong hands. Then, with an evil smile and practiced ease, she shifted. Her feet found purchase on the bed and her hips thrusted so hard into him that the entire dildo filled him and he felt himself stretching around the third and fourth and last ball. His cock was hard as a rock.

“Ahhh!” Again, he couldn’t do anything but accept the intrusion and take it. Her grip locked him in place.

Elias had a dancer’s body, lean and toned, honed by years of discipline. Defined lines traced his chest and abdomen, each muscle a testament to his strength and control. He wouldn’t call himself weak by any stretch; yet, in the Queen’s harsh grasp, he was at her mercy. On the other hand, she was a warrior forged in the fires of battle, she thrived on submission, accustomed to many succumbing to her will.

He was no exception.

Her gaze raked across his form, “so pretty like that,” she murmured, “I’m almost sad that yesterday I missed that blissed out face,” her hands trailed up his chest. “Next time I take you from behind we’ll use a mirror,” she promised while pumping again into him, “can’t miss again how pretty and dumb your face look when your hole is filled up. Even better with my cum covering it.” Her words where followed by several harsh thrusts that had him sobbing.

“Ahh!” he gasped helplessly, the sound a stark contrast to the steely control in her gaze and in her hips.

“Mmm, responsive, are we?” her hands returned on his ass, slapping one of his cheek hard.

“AH!” he yelped as she struck him over and over, while his cock bounced around, painfully hitting his stomach. Each strike was a punctuation mark in a brutal rhythm, perfectly synchronized with the relentless slam of her hips.

“You like this, don’t you?” she taunted, “every time I smack your ass, it bounce so beautifully and your hole! My, my, your pretty hole. It took another dildo so easily! Is it that hungry?” A sardonic lilt colored her voice, “of course, after being starved for so long, it’s only natural.”

“Ah- ahhh!” his mind dissolved into a haze of pure bliss, strangled moans the only sound that dared to escape his lips.

“Say it, pretty boy,” her voice, a low growl, “say it.”

He fought, every muscle straining against the blissful haze clouding his mind. “YES! Ye-Ah!” it came out ragged and breathless, echoing the frantic rhythm of her hips.

“So good…” he managed, “so good, my queen” the words slurred as another wave of pleasure washed over him.

A triumphant smile, laced with a hint of something darker, appeared on her face. Her hands reached his sides, harshly grasping his skin; they held him captive of her rhythm.

Desperation gnawed at him, he needed to cum immediately. The ache was impossible to ignore, so timidly, his hand drifted down, a tentative to touch his cock. The touch was barely there, a whisper against burning skin. But before he could find any relief, a sharp slap stung his wrist.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she snarled.

“It hurts,” he rasped, the word a desperate plea for mercy. “Please, my Queen, can I cum?”

Mid-thrust, her hips did a surprised little hiccup, mimicking the jolt of surprise that momentarily wiped the predatory smirk from her face. She met his gaze and then his leaking cock, looking at it like she had just remembered he had one.

A burst of laughter, pure amusement bubbling from her chest, shattered the tense atmosphere. “You want what?” she drawled, her voice dripping with mock surprise. “You want to cum? Here, on my bed? In my private chambers?” Her eyes narrowed playfully, taking him in as if he were a child asking for something far beyond his reach.

Then, as swiftly as the amusement had bloomed, it vanished. Her eyes turned into dark pools.

“Let me remind you, you offered yourself as a gift,” she began, “you are in no position to make demands. And the only way for you to cum is with your little cock untouched, with me filling your ass and when your silly liquid will not land on my skin.” Her voice, a low, steady current of authority.

“Everything else,” she continued with a cruel indifference, “is not my problem. Now, are you done whining?”

His mind reeled, her words a cruel echo in the sudden silence. She brutally continued sliding into him up and down until she released herself, but the action was overshadowed by her rule. Was it a rule? Did every partner endure this same treatment? The weight of her words settled on him, an invisible hand pressing down on his chest, stealing his breath. But he was here for a reason, his mind and his body surrendered to the new law imposed over him.

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Before the day ended, his Queen laid down other guidelines for him, this time more practical.

Cleanliness: Keeping himself spotless and always ready for her was a must, and a constant reminder of her ownership.

Confined Quarters: He wasn’t allowed to wander beyond the boundaries of her bedchambers when she wasn’t with him.

Schedule: His meals would only arrive with her attendants. He wasn’t allowed to go the kitchens as he pleased.

He absorbed each rule with a strange sense of acceptance. But the inability to explore? This put a dent in his plan. Elias wanted to learn more about his Queen and particularly the rumored secret rooms within the harem that she never spoke of. He envisioned subtle conversations with the scullery maids, a casual inquiry dropped during a meal with the guards, perhaps even sneaking a peek at the hidden corners of her domain, anything that could help him to remain more than a simple week. He might not be able to explore the castle, but he will find other ways while following her rules.

He knew defiance came at a steep price. One wrong move, one broken rule, and he’d be cast out. Elias couldn’t risk that.

His Queen wanted obedience and obedience she will get.

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