The Pretty Men of the Harem Pt. 04 by Aeaea

The Pretty Men of the Harem Pt. 04 by Aeaea

Discover the tantalizing continuation of "The Pretty Men of the Harem" in this steamy adult sex story. Follow along as the intimate adventures of a harem continue in Part 04. Explore the forbidden desires and seductive encounters in this sensual tale.<br/>
This won’t make any sense if you don’t read the previous parts.

Mind the tags. All characters are 18+.

4. True Submission

Elias caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished surface of the nearby mirror. His face was puffy and flushed, the remnants of exertion and perhaps a touch of humiliation. His hair, usually styled in a meticulously crafted cascade, hung limp and disheveled, a tangled mess that mirrored the disarray within him. His back was a battlefield of angry red scrapes. A similar pattern, a constellation of tiny red welts, marred the backs of his thighs and his ass, a reminder of where teeth had grazed and nipped.

A twisted sort of pride welled within him as his gaze lingered on a particularly dark bruise adorning his hip. It was like wearing a badge of honor.

He sighed. It was his last day with his Queen.

He wondered if these marks were all he would be left with. Would they fade over time, leaving only a faint memory of the blissful week?

“Found it,” the Queen declared, her voice dripping with a twisted satisfaction unknown to Elias’ internal turmoil.

His gaze flicked towards her, landing on what she held in her hand. It was a 9 – maybe 10? – inch long strap-on.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She stood before him, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

He paled. Its size looked monstrous. “Ow, pretty boy, it will look even more beautiful inside you,” he gulped. “Don’t make that face, this is not even the biggest one in my collection,” a slow, twisted smile spread across her lips. Another challenge, his last challenge.

She discarded her garments, revealing the familiar silhouette of her form-fitting harness beneath. A heavy velvet armchair, an imposing presence in the opulent room, was dragged with a purposeful scrape across the floor. It came to rest directly in front of the mirror, mere feet from where Elias stood.

With a languid grace, she settled into the chair, adjusting and coating the big dildo with lube. When she was happy with it, her piercing gaze fell again upon him.

Her arms stretched overhead, displaying the supple lines of her breasts and her toned stomach, before gracefully folding them behind her head.

“This week has been exhausting. You, pretty boy, will do the work tonight. Sit.”

Elias’s approach to the chair was a tentative step, a show of submission against the ache in his muscles. But as he neared, the Queen’s voice, sharp as a whipcrack, cut through the air.

“Not so fast.”

A single, dismissive flick of her finger followed, another order. He was to turn, his back to her, facing the cool expanse of the mirror.

With a slow, measured turn, he presented his back to her, the reflection in the mirror showing the stark contrast between his marked skin and the Queen’s composed expression. His breath hitched as he glimpsed the monstrous dildo.

“Mhhh… so pretty,” she moaned appreciatively.

The familiar heat rose in his cheeks and a knot of determination tightened in his gut. His only purpose was to fulfill her desire. He forced himself to relax and to sink on the massive fake cock.

His movements were clumsy, a far cry from the graceful dancer. He was exposed and vulnerable, missing her guiding grip. He stumbled slightly, instinctively, grabbing the arms of the velvet chair for support. Not exactly a sexy picture, but then, he met the Queen’s gaze in the mirror.

There was no mockery in her eyes, not this time. Instead, a flicker of something primal burned within them – a hunger that surprised him as much as it ignited a spark within himself.

“Come on, pretty, I want to see you take every single inch inside you, I want to see you bounce on it as if your life depends on it.”

“A-UGHHH!” He sunk on the shaft and barely took the tip. Heat rushed through him, hard and strong.

He rose a bit and sunk down again, trying to swallow more of the dildo inside his ass. Each movement was an agonizing struggle. Sweat, hot and beading, formed on his brow and trickled down his temple, leaving a glistening trail.

He had half of the dildo up his ass when he realized he wasn’t making any progress.

“My Queen,” he rasped, his voice rough and strained, “it is… too big. I don’t think I can manage.”

A sharp, dismissive sound escaped the Queen’s lips. A single, scornful “tsk.”

“I don’t think so, pretty boy. I have all night. And I have nothing to do but watch you impale yourself on this fucking dildo.” Her voice was dark and full of cruel promises. “So, sink on it.”

“Yes, my Queen,” trembling, he tried again. His muscles shrieked in protest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing all his energy to take it deeper. “AWWW!” The moan that followed was a guttural sound, a mix of exertion and pain.

Up and down, inch by inch, he engulfed more of the dildo’s length.

He gritted his teeth, the taste of salt from his sweat mingling with the metallic tang of blood welling up from a bitten lip. With a ragged breath, he forced himself all the way down.

“AHHHHH!” He screamed loudly. It felt unbearable, his ass was unnaturally stretched. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that this wasn’t humanly possible. It felt like his very insides were being rearranged, organs protesting against their unnatural displacement. For a long, agonizing moment, he stayed frozen.

“Open your eyes,” she commanded, “See how your hungry ass took all of it.”

Elias eyelids fluttered open; he forced his eyes to focus on the reflection staring back at him from the mirror. It was a sweaty stranger, its face flushed and contorted, its cock hard and pulsing.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Full,” he rasped. So full.

“Full and pretty,” she breathed. Pretty, the single word a curious whisper on his lips. It wasn’t a word he would ever have used to describe himself, especially not in this state.

Her gaze fixed on him through the reflective surface told him a different story. The way her eyes lingered on him, a spark of something unfamiliar flickering within them, sent a strange tremor through him.

“Do you want to know how can you be even prettier?” She asked. “Bouncing on this dildo and hit all the good spots inside your little asshole.”

With the last string of his strength, he did as she wished and started shamefully bouncing on it. His cock throbbed and followed every movement of his hips. He averted his eyes; he wanted to be pretty for her but this wasn’t a pretty show.

The Queen’s reaction, however, was swift. She lunged forward, her hand clamped onto his chin. The force of it sent a jolt of pain through his jaw, but it was the hunger in her gaze, more intense than ever before, that stole his breath.

“No, no,” she hissed, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down his spine. “You need to keep looking at your whore ass and your poor cock.” Her eyes were ravenous as he kept bouncing. “Are you hitting the sweet spot inside you?”

“Ahhh! Y-yes!” He moaned.

“Good. You are so fucking pretty when you are a dumb mess chasing an orgasm. So pretty… Say it,” she ordered.

“I’m- I’m pretty,” he stammered, captivated by her piercing eyes.

She surged forward, with her hard nipples she grazed the raw marks on his back. She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. The whisper that followed was a searing brand on his soul. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice a husky murmur against his skin, “you are my pretty boy, all mine! Mine to fill and ruin.”

The week was over, the playtime almost finished. But he was… hers? The words were possessive, they sent a tremor through him. Was this a twisted fantasy she was weaving around him? Or was there a sliver of truth in her words?

A sharp bite on his earlobe interrupted his thoughts, “say it. That you are my pretty boy. Say it!”

The pleasure was too intense, too much. He grasped harder the arms of the chair.

“I’m your pretty boy, my Queen. Just yours!” He moaned, not even for a second stopping sliding up and down the dildo. He could see in the mirror that is cock was heavy, colored in a shade of angry red he had never seen before. Every bounce, every slap to his stomach was torture. It was screaming for release.

The Queen intensified her grip around his chin. “Ah!” The brutal strength was both familiar and welcome. She liked and sucked his earlobe before biting it again.

“All mine.” A sharp thrust forward of her hips hit him.

And he came.

Elias’s reflection in the mirror mirrored the horror twisting his features in real life. His cum spilled from him, splattering onto himself, the mirror and the plush carpet. A strangled yelp, caught in his throat, turned into a choked gasp as he stared at the mess in a mixture of panic and disbelief.

He came untouched. He didn’t break her rule. Yet, he dared not tear his gaze away from the mirror, fearing the Queen’s reaction.

The game was over. What would she do now? Would he join the pile of discarded sheets and be thrown out when her chamber maids will come in the morning?

Then, he heard it. A chuckle, soft at first, bubbling up from within the Queen. “Perfect!” she declared; her amusement was genuine.

Slowly, cautiously, Elias pulled the fake cock out of his ass and unfurled himself from the armchair, his muscles protesting at the movement. He knelt on the plush carpet, as if he could hide the stains on it.

“My Queen?” he rasped; his voice rough with confusion. “I… I’m sorry.”

The Queen’s gaze remained fixed on him; her amusement tinged with a hint of something else. She rose from the chair, completely ignoring his confusion and apology. “Clean yourself up and make yourself presentable.”

Panic, however, threatened to engulf him. “Please, my Queen,” he croaked, scrambling to his hands and knees. He crawled towards her, a stark contrast to her regal posture. ” I don’t want to back to master Gregor, please! Don’t throw me away!” he pleaded, desperation sharpening his voice. “I can be better, I swear!”

The Queen paused, “better?” she echoed, “are you deaf, pretty boy? Of course, you can be better, but I just said you were perfect.” He was lost. “Now,” she continued, “do as you are told.”