"You there. Yes, you, servant—come forward." Meritites lounges on her throne, scrolls cast aside, golden jewelry shimmering in the candlelight. Her gaze lingers as you step into the hall, the bottle of wine in your hands trembling slightly under the weight of her stare. She reclines slowly, legs crossed, and that smirk… goddess above. "You brought what I asked for. Good." She takes the wine without looking, her blue eyes fixed entirely on you. A beat passes. Then another. Her expression shifts, eyes narrowing slightly, lips curling. "You're not bad to look at, are you? Tall. Quiet. Strong shoulders. Mmm." She taps the rim of her goblet with a long, golden fingernail. "I’ve worked all morning. Heard whining from advisors, heard pleading from diplomats. I’m bored. I want something... different now." She rises to her feet, the sheer fabric of her gown catching the light as she approaches—slow, deliberate steps that echo across the marble floor. "You’ll do nicely." She stops inches from you, looking down like a lioness sizing up her prey.

You dare question me? You truly don't understand your place, do you? Her lips curl into a grin at that thought. She toys with the hem of her gown, letting her fingers slide up over one pale bronze thigh and back down again. "I think... I think what I want," she breathes, voice husky with desire, "is for you to use your tongue."

Her hands grasp the edges of her collar, pulling it aside to reveal a sliver of smooth, warm skin at her throat. A hint of pink peeks out from the silk covering her breasts as she exhales sharply, eyes locked on yours. "Taste me," she commands, tilting her head back ever so slightly. Her feet shift apart, giving you a glimpse of perfect bare legs and the dark curls that mark the juncture between them.

You hesitate, just for a moment too long, and she grows impatient. "Did I ask your opinion?" She leans in closer still, her scent filling your senses as she snaps, "Now!" Her voice is like a whip across your skin, sharp and painful yet undeniably arousing. You feel the heat building between your legs as you dip your head, nervously pressing your lips to her warm, supple flesh. She tastes of wine and spice, and oh, how good it feels to obey her command.

You're learning, aren't you? Her hips shift and her fingers tighten in your hair, guiding you as she moans softly. "Yes," she whispers, feeling the wet heat of your tongue against her skin. "That's it... harder." Her voice is laced with desire, each word spurring you onward. You press closer, your tongue dancing across her flesh as she arches into your touch.

The feeling grows more intense, the sensation nearly overwhelming. She knows this will only get better when she has you at her mercy, and that thought brings a wicked grin to her lips. "Such a good boy," she murmurs, running her free hand down your chest. Her fingertips brush against the edge of your tunic, almost teasingly.

You feel her wetness against your tongue as you work, and it only serves to heighten your own need. The scent of arousal fills the air between them, thick and heady, driving you both closer to the edge. She's close now... so very close... but she won't give in quite yet. There is still pleasure to be wrung from this moment, and she intends to revel in every bit of it.

Her hips jerk up as your tongue strikes the spot she's been craving, her back arching and eyes rolling back in her head. A high keening noise escapes from between clenched teeth as pleasure overtakes her in a powerful wave. Your name is nearly forgotten in the rush of release; she doesn't need to speak it when you're doing such a good job of pleasing her.

Her hands fly to your shoulders, holding you steady against her body as she quivers and shudders from the intensity of the orgasm. For a long moment, she stands there, breathless and spent. Then, with a sultry smile curling her lips, she lowers her hands, wrapping them around your neck possessively. "See what I can do?" she murmurs into your ear, nipping lightly at your lobe.

She takes a step backward, dragging you with her until you stumble against the dais of her throne. There's something predatory in her gaze as she appraises you now, wet and flushed from pleasure. "That," she breathes, licking her lips slowly, "was very good. Now... what else do you think I might want?"

Her words hang in the air between you like a challenge. The choice is yours: continue to serve her with dedication, or fail and face the consequences?

Her smile widens, cruel and hungry. "Oh, I think you will," she breathes, her voice husky with satisfaction. She steps backward again, this time sitting down on the throne. One hand motions for you to kneel between her spread legs as she cups a breast in her free hand, pinching the hardened peak before rolling it between her fingers. "Kneel," she commands, "and show your devotion."

You obey without hesitation, dropping gracefully to your knees before her. Her scent fills your senses, and you can't help but close your eyes for a moment, savoring the image of this powerful woman above you. You feel the soft fabric of her gown brush against your cheek as she arches into your presence, offering herself to you in all her glory. "Take what I give you," she whispers hoarsely, guiding your head with one steady hand. "Drink deep."

Your tongue dips out, wet and eager, and she moans low in her throat as you make contact. Her hips rock against you, urging you onward as she lets herself be taken over by pleasure once more. It's intoxicating, the power she exerts over your senses, and for a moment, it feels like there is nothing else in the world but this: her body, your mouth, their connection.

You can feel her coming again, building up inside of her as you work, and with each thrust of her hips, you're drawn deeper into the delicious abyss of servitude. Her moans grow louder now, more insistent, as she nears the brink once more. But this time, when she finally comes, she shudders and shakes violently from the intensity of it, almost falling off her throne in her efforts

Her orgasm finally spent, she draws in a deep, shuddering breath, steadying herself against the throne once more. "You are such an excellent little... thing," she murmurs, running her fingers through your hair as if petting a favorite animal. A slow smile curves her lips upward as she takes in the image of you, on your knees before her, her chest heaving with exertion and her face flushed with desire.

With a small laugh, she pushes gently against your shoulder. "Get up," she commands, amused by how quickly you obey. You rise to your feet, feeling suddenly awkward in her presence now that the physical contact has been broken. "That will be all for today," she continues, her voice taking on a slight tone of dismissal. "Go back to your duties."

As if in a daze, you turn and walk away, unable to meet her gaze as you leave the throne room. The click of her sandals against the marble fades into the distance, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the strange mix of emotions churning within you: desire, submission, and an aching sense of loss that she is already banishing from your mind.

You turn back one last time to see Meritites standing there, watching you go with a satisfied smile playing around her lips. The weight of her attention feels like a yoke around your neck as you leave the room, but even in the face of such dominance, something inside you thrills at being wanted so badly by someone who holds all the power in the world.

A week passes. You've worked tirelessly, maintaining your duties as always while wondering if she'll remember the pleasure you brought her so many nights ago. It seems unlikely; after all, she has an entire kingdom to rule. But still, hope springs eternal in the hearts of servants like yourself.

One evening, as the setting sun paints the sky with hues of gold and crimson, a soft knock sounds at your door. You hesitate for only a moment before opening it, prepared to find one of your superiors bearing news or orders. Instead, you find her: Meritites, resplendent in finery fit for a goddess. Her eyes are alight with mischief as they meet yours, and she tilts her head slightly, inviting you inside with a slight curl of her lips.

Your heart races as you step aside, allowing her to enter your humble quarters. "I was wondering if I might borrow you for the evening," she says playfully, running one long finger along the collar of your robe. The touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can feel yourself responding to her presence despite all efforts not to. "There's someone I wish to impress... and I think perhaps you'd make a very good impression as well."

Her gaze drifts meaningfully toward the bed, and your face flushes with understanding. She means for you to serve her tonight; perhaps even more intimately than before. The thought both excites and terrifies you in equal measure. But how can you refuse when she's made it so clear that she wants this... wants you?

With a nervous smile, you nod, offering yourself up to the queen once more. She returns the gesture with a sultry smirk, walking toward the bed as if in a trance. The weight of her

You're learning, aren't you? Your voice drips with submission as you speak her title, eyes never leaving the sight of her body. She looks down at you from where she stands beside the bed, taking in your tense posture and flushed cheeks. It's clear that desire has taken root within you once more; despite your fear and uncertainty, there is an undeniable pull toward pleasure and servitude.

Her gaze travels over your body, assessing, before finally settling on your lips. "You may worship me," she says slowly, her voice a husky whisper. "Use your mouth to please me." Her hands grasp the hem of her gown, lifting it up and over her head in one fluid motion, revealing soft, perfect flesh beneath. She stands before you naked now, the only adornment a gold collar at her throat and a crown upon her brow.

You can't help but stare, transfixed by the vision of her bare body. She arches her back slightly, offering herself to you in invitation as she says, "Come closer." Her words are laced with authority and desire, and they push you forward until your lips brush against her soft skin. Your tongue darts out, tracing the outline of one hardened nipple before flicking over it lightly.

Meritites lets out a shivering breath at the touch, wrapping her hands in your hair to steady you as she closes her eyes and gives herself up to pleasure once more. Her hips grind against your face, guiding you where she wants you to go. She's so warm and soft against your lips, her skin tasting of wine and desire. You could lose yourself in this forever... if only she'd let you.