Queen Takri pushed her slave away, bored of his oral administrations. He fell back to the floor, landing with a thump. She laughed, crossing her beautifully naked legs as she sat back on her throne. As Queen, pleasure was available at every corner, every hour, every second of the every day. Even Jako, the most favored of her slaves, was unable to please her this day.
"Queen, do I displease you?" Jako bowed his head, scared of the consequences of her displeasure. Takri's displeasure was to be terrified.
"Oh, Jako..." Takri traced the tattoo across his forehead marking his slave status. "You are most pleasurable." There was no anger, it surprised her. If pleasure wasn't produced when demanded, Takri was known to go into rages, executing slaves on a whim. Sating her frustration with the blood of those who served her quelled her burning desire for stimulation.
"Queen, please...allow me to pleasure you," Jako begged, stroking small circles on her knee, moving his fingers closer to the apex of her thighs.
"No, Jako...leave me." The slave scampered off, leaving her alone in the throne room.
Takri was the Queen of Minose. As matriarch of the richest family on Kerate, she was leader of the ruling family and therefore Minose. And the Queen was entitled to any pleasure she desired. And she imbibed in many. Sexual, emotional, spiritual. All she could get her hands on. It was given to her readily and without argument.
But so much pleasure for so long, and so readily, was numbing. She no longer felt true desire. Nothing seemed to please her. The apathy was frustrating.
Before she began getting angry, the head of the Minose family security stormed into the throne room.
"Queen, I have captured the leader of Taj."
Taj was a group of baser citizens, demanding more of their ruling family than they were entitled. Attempting to usurp her family they'd managed to kill several lesser relatives.
"Bring him to me." A reward had been listed for Taj's leader. She would gladly pay it to capture the usurper and end the uprising in her kingdom. The Taj had eluded her for two years, lying just outside her reach. The inability to grasp what she desired was foreign to Takri. The frustration to control her kingdom brought with it a failure to orgasm. It was her inability to find joy motivating her to end the Taj's existence—the need to conquer what stood between her and her pleasure burned.
Her guards led a man in chains into the room, his clothes torn completely from him, his head chained to his chest forcing the appearance of submission. He was a tall, lean man with muscles bunching around his arms. Curly dark hair topped his head and sprinkled his chest. He was a worker from the algae fields; only such workers were so full of muscle and strength. Takri often took her slaves from the fields because their physique made her body tingle. It was a shame; he would make an amazing sex slave.
Takri's body began to feel desire. The sensation excited her but brought with it wariness. She had thought herself apathetic and unable to feel need. Takri knew she would feel need and crave release but it wouldn't come. It would only result in stalled release, leaving her in limbo.
She stood, coming to stand in front of the man struggling against his bindings.
"Who are you?" She demanded.
"I am a free man." He growled.
Takri laughed. "Free? Are you blind or simply stupid? You are bound with chains."
"My state is no indicator of who I am, Takri."
The guard slammed his baton into the prisoner's back, knocking him to his knees. "You will address her majesty as Queen!"
"Why? I have no Queen here."
Again the guard beat him. Still, the prisoner was not humbled. He remained hard; refusing to break under her will imposed by her obsessed guards, guards who would slice the throat of any citizen with only the slightest provocation.
The prisoner tilted his head against the binding and glared at her, his eyes filled with hate. It wasn't the hate that surprised her. But it was this man, this rebel determined to end her reign by any means, who made her experience want once again. And it was him she wanted. Ironic that he clearly despised her.
Takri moved herself off the throne, her body still naked, covered with a sheen of oils administered by her bathing slaves. As Queen, she never covered herself. She forced her people look upon her naked body, only covering her shoulders with her regal purple robe embroidered with gold threads. It gave her a morbid sense of power knowing her prude subjects must worship her naked body and do exactly what she orders.
She came to stand directly in front of the prisoner, her cleanly shaven pussy positioned in front of his downturned face. Let him smell her arousal, she thought.
"And yet you kneel before me." She laughed. "Explain to me, prisoner, how is it you're incapable of living in the mold to which you were poured?"
"Is that how you justify your excess and abuse? Thinking we're the product of what the world gives us?"
"Free his head." Takri was intrigued.
The guard unlocked the chain holding the prisoner's head down. With his head freed of the binding he looked up at her, his eyes meeting his full force. His pupils flared with accusation and hate. It was as if a brick wall slammed into her face, the hate and brutal disgust she saw there.
How such malevolence could arouse her, she didn't know. But it did. He was beautiful in a natural sense, his face a perfect example of physiology except for the huge scar traveling from his right eye, down his neck and to his chest. She couldn't image the knife capable of making such a mark.
The brutal danger resonating from him enflamed her. She wanted this man's body inside her body. She wanted him to pleasure her and bring her pleasure.
"I will not bow to you," he declared.
His will was strong. A man with such a will could dominate her. Own her. Make her body respond. A man with such a will could rule her world.
"And what makes you believe I want you to bow before me?" Takri knelt down in front of him. "What if I were to bow before you?"
He looked at her, wary and confused.
