Tiberius Artemus tossed the majority of his cape over his shoulder, holding the bulk of it traditionally over his arm. To his left and right, two guards walked alongside of him. Though he knew they were bred and trained to fight and kill, he could not help taking in their pleasurable appearances. Their main bodice of armor, though tough looking corsets of leather, ended with thong bottoms. The women’s breasts spilled out from on top, since there was nothing to cover them. Around their chiseled, muscular legs were knife belts, and each carried a spear in their hands.

       Deadly and beautiful, all at once, he thought to himself.

       Artemus let himself be lead through the main hall of the Nile Palace. Egypt was a hot country, and it was almost sweltering beneath his royal armor. His thick, solid soldier’s build glistened with sweat, moistening the tips of his brown bangs.

       The marble hallway gave way into an even bigger hall, one that rivaled the Emperor’s throne room in Rome. The entire floor was made of polished marble, the cracks in it mortared with gold, with a deep red carpet running down the center. One wall was a set of man-made waterfalls, spilling over more smooth marble before pooling into a channel that led elsewhere. Green, vibrant plants grew along it, fed by the cool water. The other wall was merely open, interspaced with carved columns and silk drapes. The warm, desert breeze blew softly, making the curtains flutter.

       The carpet that ran the length of the room went up several steps on a raised pedestal, and then stopped at the magnificent golden throne at the top. The legends stories appeared to be true; it was indeed made of solid gold, and encrusted with precious stones.

       Artemus and his entourage stopped a few paces before the pedestal. One of them, a deep skinned Nubian with the strongest buttocks he had ever seen spoke to him. “Wait here while we go and summon the Queen,” she said. “Please enjoy the splendor of her palace in the meantime.”

       The two guards left him, exiting through a side door. Artemus helped himself first to the wag of their bare rear ends, then to the rest of the throne room.

       “Splendor indeed,” he muttered to himself.

       A short time later, the door opened once again. First came the two guards from before, then two more pairs, all women in the same armor. Then came two women, but unlike the guards, they were completely nude and unarmed. From the fact that one held a giant fan of peacock feathers, and the other a tray of juicy fruit, Artemus guessed they were the Queen’s slaves.

Then she appeared.

       Artemus had heard many things of Queen Cleopatra of the Nile, some rumors, others true. Seeing her in person though made him realize that even the rumors were true.

       In clothes of gold and gems, she swayed through the door, flanked by more personal guards. Cleopatra was the daughter of the former Pharaoh, a pure blood Egyptian to the last drop. Her eyes were deep brown, almost black pools of mystery and seduction. Her ebony hair fell in smooth, straight locks to her shoulder.

       The outfits of female Roman royalty were proper and respectable. Cleopatra dressed in pure debauchery. The only thing befitting of royalty she actually wore was the thin silver band around her forehead, signifying her status. The rest, a foolish man could interpret as a whore’s attire. Her only full garment was an impossibly small thong of gold silk with a small matching wrap around her hips. A gold chain dangled from her pierced navel, a diamonded embedded at the end. She was topless, save for a spiderweb of golden chain that dangled from a large ornate necklace just above her bust.

       The legends of the Queen’s body were true. It was more than evident from the very little clothing she wore. She possessed the largest breasts he had ever seen in all his life. They were beyond the size of melons, perfect in shape and form, with areola’s the size of a young man’s fist, and nipples the width of a finger. Her buttocks, he noted as he caught a side profile of her, were perfectly rounded lumps of muscle, putting even the guards’ chiseled frames to shame.

       Artemus was sure to drink in as much as she could, especially of her trim backside before she turned to face him when she sat on the throne, then her amazing chest as she lowered herself to her seat. Beside her, the slave with the fan began to waft cooler air on her, and the slave with the tray kneeled obediently while lifting the fruit within easy reach.

       “Welcome to my kingdom, Lord Artemus,” Cleopatra purred with an elegant wave of her hand. “I hope your journey was pleasant.”

       “Very pleasant, your Majesty,” he replied, bowing respectfully in greeting. “But truth be told, I am very happy to arrive all the same.”

       “Now, what offer does the Roman Empire wish to extend to me?” she asked, cutting straight to the point. “Your messengers were…cryptic, at best.”

       “The Emperor of Rome wishes a union of our kingdoms, your Highness,” Artemus truthfully told her. “He believes that with our resources, our two countries will be able to conquer the world.”

       “Why does he wish to conquer the world?” Cleopatra asked almost lazily as she plucked a grape from a cluster and let it burst between her teeth. “What does he seek in the bloodshed?”

       “The Emperor wants a unified land, your Highness. One that can be governed easily, its people brought together in harmony. As distasteful as the war would be, it is a necessary evil.”

       “It is a very interesting offer…” the Queen said mysteriously. “But I am sure this talk of power and conquest is not discussed best when weary and hungry.” Her eyes glittered in the afternoon sun. “Join me for dinner this evening after you have refreshed yourself in your own chambers. There is much to discuss, Lord Artemus.”

       Artemus smiled and bowed respectfully again. “Very well, your Highness. Thank you for your generous hospitality.”

       Cleopatra made a motion with her hand, and a small gong sounded somewhere. Three nude slave girls entered the hall, heads bowed submissively within the presence of the Queen. “Slaves, take Lord Artemus to his chambers, and make him comfortable,” she commanded them as she rose from her throne, and then said to him, “These slaves are very experienced. Feel free to explore their abilities to your heart’s content this afternoon.”

       With that, she left the throne room, her escort in tow. The slaves gently took Artemus by the arms and guided him through another door. One was a native, tan skinned Egyptian with long black hair to the middle of her back. Another was a pale skinned young girl with bright, glimmering yellow hair. The last was a dark Nubian with ample breasts and a curvy body.

       Artemus smirked to himself, both enjoying their company and the surrounding beauty of the palace corridors. Everything was going according to plan.

       Of course, the Emperor would never share power with Queen Cleopatra. It was merely a ploy to dupe the so-called Goddess of the Nile so she could be easily captured, and her land conquered. Her kingdom was the only one that rivaled the Roman Empire, and once it was conquered nothing else would be unobtainable.

       All he had to do was sit back, enjoy his three gifts from Cleopatra and indulge in her dinner. Then, when she let her guard down, he would restrain her and hold her captive until he could send for his soldiers. The Queen would be smuggled out and taken back to Rome, where she would serve as the personal sex toy of the Emperor. Then it would be a simple matter of taking the palace.

       Artemus hooked his arm around the waist of the Nubian slave, then grabbed a hold of her breast, kneading it roughly. She seemed to be just like the kind of women he preferred in bed, as if the Queen knew his desires. The slave smiled and drew closer to him in stride, obeying her Queen’s wishes to pleasure him at any cost.

       Artemus had just gotten out of bed when the Queen’s messenger had notified him that the evening feast was ready. Two of the slaves, the Nubian and the blonde, lay in each others arms in the sheets, exhausted and covered with sweat. The Nubian proved to have an amazingly powerful mouth, while the blonde had the tightest pussy he had ever felt.

       The Egyptian, the only of the two spared from his sexual appetite, bathed him in a stone tub, thoroughly scrubbing, to his delight, his entire body. His armor had been cleaned and polished by another, and was delightfully cool against his skin in the warm early evening.

       He was escorted to the dining hall by the Egyptian slave and the messenger. Inside was a sight to behold. A large table stretched to a good portion of the room, filled with exotic food from all over the land. Roast meats, fresh fruit, and decadent desserts filled every corner. Cleopatra sat at the head with a thin robe on over her earlier attire, bust still spilling out for the world to marvel at.

       A small troupe of musicians played in the corner of the room, and along with them, providing more arousing entertainment, were several belly dancers around the table, clothed and veiled in various colored silk.

       She beckoned to him as the women departed from his side. “Come, Lord Artemus, and sit,” she said and patted the pillows nearest her.  “Taste the bounty my land has to offer.”

       He sank into the lush fabric and reclined as the food was served. They ate roast pig and ham, interspaced with juicy fruit and cake. All of it was heavenly, expertly cooked and prepared, easily putting many chefs in Rome to shame. The wine served was extraordinary. Artemis found himself downing several goblets quickly.

       “What else can you tell me about your offer?” asked Cleopatra as she gazed into the twisting bosom of a dancer.

       “It is a chance to exchange culture as well as power,” he replied, thoroughly enjoying the silken swaying hips of an Arabian dancer. Her body writhed like a snake about to strike, an evening breeze causing her teasing silk outfit to brush against him. “Rome can learn many things from Egypt, and we hope your people can learn from us as well. Just think, Roman women in Egyptian fashion, Egyptian soldiers trained in Roman combat.”

       “I have heard many things of Rome’s beautiful women, as well as of their unstoppable armies” said Cleopatra. She snapped her fingers, the order to once again refill his goblet with wine.

Artemus gladly took another swig. The belly dancer had now swung her legs over his and straddled his lap, grazing her thighs across his breastplate. The luxury and decadence was something that he could have gotten lost in forever, had not even more been promised for him for completing his assignment. So with that in mind, he drank freely, enjoying the erotic dance with the knowledge that more was to come.

“Please, do not hesitate to imbibe, Lord Artemus,” Cleopatra said grandly as she had his drink refilled yet again. “You have had barely half of my own portions. I hope you are not trying to be polite, for Egypt is a land where food is greatly cherished.”

“No, your Majesty, of course not!” he said. “Your wine is excellent. Just another thing Rome will be thankful to sample!” The goblet was drained again.

“Perhaps you would like something stronger?” she suggested. “It seems a man such as yourself is above the power of mere liquor.”

“That sounds very intoxicating,” he chuckled. “Forgive my pun. I do not make it a habit to try to impress my hosts with poor humor. But yes, if you insist, your Majesty.”

A separate goblet was brought to him, full of a creamy, white liquid. The dancer draped a silken fold behind his neck and leaned back, allowing him to sample the Queen’s new indulgence while still performing her own. Her tan skin glistened in the torch and candle light. The top of her outfit was only a set of transparent silk sleeves; her breasts were bare, nipples covered in tiny silver cups that were attached by a chain.

       Artemus sipped the liquid. It was spicy, with a taste of liquor and something else far sweeter. Unfamiliar, but no less delicious. He drank deeper, draining half of it, but before he could take it away to breath, the dancer pushed lightly on the underside of the cup, willing him to drink it all in one go.

       Triumphantly, he placed the empty glass down while smacking his lips. “Delicious, your Majesty!”

“I’m glad you found it so,” she said, smiling beautifully. “It is quite a wonderful drink.”

Artemus realized that he should probably stop drinking, as the alcohol was beginning to affect him greatly. The room was beginning to spin a little. The dancer on his lap became embossed in a hidden light, growing even more beautiful. He placed his hands on her hips.

“My apologies, but I think you should stop,” he said with a chuckle. “You might make me a little too dizzy.”

The dancer cooed and leaned close, begging him to let her continue. She was enamored with him, his strength, and how handsome he was. She wanted to pleasure him, to dance all night. She began to spin with the room, her silken outfit a whirl of colors.

It became too much, and everything became black.

When he woke, Artemus discovered three things. First, he was bound, his limbs pulled taught, spread to four corners, and his arms were sore from the fact that he was dangling from them.

Second, he was naked. His armor and clothing had been stripped away, placed neatly against the wall in front of him, along with his sword.

Third, he had been oiled. His entire body glistened with wetness, all save his head which remained dry.

Confused, he looked around. He was bound by cords of leather to some sort of rack between two columns. The strips were knotted tightly several different times in several different places. Each strip on his arms and legs was pulled tight, forcing him to stand spread eagled. He gave a tug on his bonds, but there was barely a half inch of slack.

Then he looked down and saw that his cock was fully erect, glistening in the oil. He remembered the dancer, but there was no way his body could have still been aroused from that. The way it was sticking straight out with no curve indicated he was either freshly aroused, or had been aroused for some time, but that was impossible.

What is going on?

A door opened behind him, but he could not turn his head enough to see who it was. His question was soon answered though, and Queen Cleopatra floated into his vision.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, trying not to sound outraged. Perhaps this was merely one of the Queen’s games he had heard so much of it?

“What is the meaning?” she asked back with a light laugh. “My dear Lord Artemus, you have no idea how I prevented myself from asking the same thing to yourself when we met.” She placed her hands on her hips, her breasts glaring at him like a second set of eyes. “Did you really think your plan would work?”

“Plan?” he asked, this time outraged, though falsely. He was feeling more fear than anger. Had the Queen somehow discovered his intentions? “What are you accusing me of?

“Any kingdom knows that the Roman Empire does not share power,” she stated, pacing back and forth. Artemus took notice of a table covered with whips, canes, clamps, and other objects that made him even more nervous. “You simply take it, feeding off of other lands.” She looked at him, her dark eyes still glittering with seduction. “Like locust.”

“This is an outrage!” he shouted, swelling in indignation. “Release me at once, and perhaps you will not incur the Empire’s wrath.”

She laughed at his threat with a wave of her hand. “Rome does not intimidate me, Lord Artemus. Nor shall I have to worry about any bloodshed.”

“My soldiers will learn that you have taken me captive, and will return with all of our armies!”

“My guards slit each and every one of their throats before the sun fell,” she said simply. “Your escorts are dead, and you are alone.”

“What?!” he shouted.

“Yes,” she replied, then, sounding tragic continued, “And poor Lord Artemus’s ship sank before reaching Egypt. A Roman hero, lost to the elements.” She chuckled, and her voice dropped to a satin-like purr. “That is what history will say. You, however, will become my slave.”

It was Artemus’s turn to laugh. “Do you think I will just submit to you like that? I have face far worse torture than what you have there,” he nodded towards the table of whips.

“Oh, I do not doubt the fact that you are a strong man,” she replied mystically, slowly glancing up and down his oiled frame. “It is why I rather you be taken alive and trained than simply killed. You will find that all submit. It is only a matter of time, and I am very patient.”

With that, Cleopatra turned and began to examine the instruments on her table. Artemus pulled at his binds, but like before, it proved useless. His stiff cock wagged, not having lost any of its length or girth.

“That liquor you drank is my special aphrodisiac,” Cleopatra commented, taking a long slender cane in her hands. “Made from the finest liquor, herbs and Oriental spices, as well as the milk from my breasts, mixed with several drugs of course.”

No wonder he was so aroused. He actually tasted the nectar from that wonderful bosom? His cock felt like it had been hard for hours, constantly teased without released. It was even a shade of red as the full nine inches of it twitched in frustration.

“Hmmm…” Cleopatra cooed softly as she turned to face him, the cane in one hand, a small strip of black silk in the other. “A Roman soldier is such a fine specimen of man, strong in both body and mind.” She circled behind him and pulled the silk across his eyes and pulled with surprising strength, drawing his head back. “Should I use pain, and slowly whip and strike you into submission?” she whispered in his ear. “Or perhaps pleasure, and drive you mad before taking you into me, leashing you with desire and lust?”

The tone of her voice was strong. Artemus was certain he could sustain torture and interrogation, but what Cleopatra spoke of seemed something otherworldly. For a brief moment, his resolve wavered.

The cloth fell away, and she circled in front of him again. Slowly, with meticulous detail, she slid her index finger down the length of his rock hard shaft, the perfectly manicured nail lightly caressing the tender flesh. Artemus let out an involuntary moan at her touch. Her very finger seemed charged with energy.

If just a single touch can do that, what else can this woman do?

She took her finger, glistening with oil, then slowly stroked it over her nipples, coating each one and the areolas with it until they both glimmered like jewels. She circled to his back again.

“I do not train all of my slaves personally, Lord Artemis. So impress me. Show me how long a Roman general can stand to the lash without crying out.”

Without warning the cane swished and struck him across the lower buttocks. The pain was so surprisingly bad that he almost yelped out right there. But he caught himself in time and stayed silent. Again the Queen struck. Then again, and again, and again…

It was not until his buttocks were striped several dozen times before the agony spilled over his limit, and he cried out. She continued her strikes, each brisk, efficient strokes of her wrist sending a wave of pain through his ass.

“Not too bad, Lord Artemus, though weaker men have lasted longer…”

“Vile whore!” he spat. He immediately regretted it as a violent lash landed across both cheeks, causing him to yelp like a wounded dog.

“Hold your tongue while you still hold your title, Lord Artemus,” the Queen hissed. “Or I shall gag you, and you will not speak until you relish the taste of my feet.”

The strokes continued without further comment. Artemus could no longer keep himself quiet. Each stinging bite from the cane issued a small cry or grunt. Soon, he was writhing in his binds, trying to do something to at least alleviate the pain. But try as he might, his ass was completely helpless to her whim.

“All you have to say is mercy,” Cleopatra said lightly as she struck. “There is no hidden penalty. Simply submit, and I shall stop. Then, we shall move to something else.”

If she thought he would simply do as she wished, the Queen was sorely mistaken. Artemus kept himself silent. The pain in his backside grew worse. If she continued at the pace she was going, it would only be minutes before he would begin to shout out loud.

Another stroke landed harshly across his buttocks, and he winced as he groaned, tears stinging his eyes. Another stroke….

“Mercy.”

“Hm?” Cleopatra asked, striking again.

“Mercy!” he said louder, biting his lower lip from the pain.

Artemus half expected the whore-Queen to simply continue, but true to her word, the lashing ceased, leaving his ass to glow like a burning ember. Cleopatra circled to his front, lightly bending the cane in her fingers. The thin wood had become slightly bent from the steady punishment.

“You see?” she said as she set the instrument down. “I am merciful. A harsher ruler would have you whipped and beaten to no end. But I…” she drew close, lifting the strip of silk beneath her breasts teasingly, slightly lifting the heavy mounds. “I do not wish to ruin the body of a handsome, endowed man. They can be put to much better use. Now, I think, some pleasure…to show you what lay in store for those who are obedient.”

With that, she sank down to her knees before him. Artemus was bound on a square of soft fabric, so the Queen felt no discomfort from the floor as she settled before him, eyeing his enormous, throbbing cock. She took it in her hands, her touch tingling and magical as she began to caress it.

“Do not think that because I kneel before you do you stand above me…” she purred softly. “”

Artemus let out a moan of pure ecstasy. With her experienced hands, Cleopatra explored every surface of his girth and balls. She even knew about the sensitive spot beneath his head. Did she simply know this, or was it revealed to her from the slave girls she had given him earlier? What other sexual secrets did she know about him?

Her hand stroked down, the butt of her palm spreading over his shaved base, then glided back up, gently squeezing over his head while her thumbed brushed the tender spot. Then it when back down, pulling back on the crown of his head, puckering the slit.

Over and over it went, each stroke sending a wave of pleasure through his spine. Artemus tried to force himself to not enjoy it, but it was impossible. Captive or not, it was something intoxicating to watch a woman almost kneeling in submission before him but still exerting such an influence over him.

“Such a long, powerful cock,” Cleopatra commented as her hands glided across his glimmering shaft again and again. “And such enormous balls; perfect to give up their seed to their Goddess. No doubt you have made many women cry out from both pleasure and force over the years.”

Artemus didn’t reply, too lost in the sea of pleasure. But suddenly, it all vanished, and Cleopatra was on her feet, dabbing her hands dry on a cloth. He sputtered. “Wh-what?”

“You don’t really think I would allow a new slave to orgasm so quickly?” she asked rhetorically as she picked up a many tailed whip and began to inspect it.

What a wicked game the Queen played! Still at the mercy of her aphrodisiac, Artemus could not do anything to relieve himself of his erection. Even without it, in the constant presence of the near-naked Cleopatra and her glorious body it would be difficult. All the while, his body and mind craved satisfaction and release.

The Queen clapped her hands, and several slave girls entered the chamber. Two were fair skinned, the third a dark Nubian.

“Lord Artemus is in need of more oil,” she said to them.

Obediently, two of the slaves moved to the wall where a large set of shelves sat, filled with bottles. They removed several of them and took them back to where Artemus was restrained. The third slave went to Cleopatra’s side, and aided her in removing her glittering golden chain top. All that she now wore was her thong, the shiny wrap above it, and the heaps of jewels above her bust.

The two slaves poured salves into their hands and began to work it into his skin, starting at his arms before moving to his body, groin, and legs. The oil warmed his skin, supplying even more tingling delight where it touched his cock and balls.

Their tasks finished, the nude women departed. Slowly, Cleopatra circled around him, still caressing the leather tendrils of her whip. “Tell me, Lord Artemus,” the Queen mused softly to herself before drawing her arm back and swinging the lash. The tips of the leather snapped across his already sore ass. “What should a man such as yourself do to please a Goddess?”

Artemus gave her nothing. In response to his silence, she whipped him again, this time prying free a grunt of pain. His ass was already streaked with fire, and the whip was beginning to fill in the gaps. The Queen struck again, then again, then again, falling into a steady rhythm. The whip would swish, crack against his ass, and he would grunt.

Swish, crack, grunt. Swish, crack, grunt.

“I ask you again, Lord Artemus, what must a man do to please his Goddess?”

Swish, crack, grunt. Swish, crack grunt.

He bit his lower lip, eyes stinging in pain as the punishment continued. The Queen was asking a question, so maybe he could distract her enough for a break. “A man must-” CRACK “A man must pay tribute to his Goddess!”

A pause. Artemus let out a breath of air as he felt Cleopatra drew close behind him. He felt the strips of leather from her whip playfully pat painlessly along his back side. The oil from his skin had been whipped off, transferring to the whip and making it heavier. Each stroke had truly been painful.

“That is correct,” she purred softly into his ear. “A man must pay tribute to his Goddess. He must offer what she demands, and do it gladly. Remember those words, Lord Artemus…”

Artemus moaned as he felt her electric touch, her fingertips slowly caressing his oiled sides, tickling his senses and raising goosebumps. His cock throbbed, almost as if it were begging for the Queen’s attention once again. Perhaps he could trick her, make her think that he was submitting, and get her to make him come.

But what if that’s what she wants? To lure me into a false sense of control? Artemus was not sure what tricks Cleopatra could do if that was her game. No, it was best that he resist completely.

“So, am I to worship you as a Goddess then?” he tried to taunt, his voice coming out shuddering from her caresses. “Then must I slaughter animals on an alter before you.”

She chuckled that wonderful sound. “Very cute, but what you speak is blasphemy. And like many places, blasphemy is punished.”

The caressing hands vanished, and Cleopatra circled to the table of instruments, selecting from it a long chain with clamps on either end. Artemus’s eyes widened a bit when he saw the sharp teeth along the mouth of the clamp.

“The male body is such a wonderful thing,” she said as she draped the chain across her neck. She began to caress his nipples with just the tips of her fingers, and despite him knowing what was going to happen, they began to harden, not unlike Cleopatra’s own massive ones, glazed in oil. “Despite the presence or knowledge of pain, it still prefers pleasure.”

With one final tweak to ensure their firmness, she took the chain from her neck and placed one end over his nipple, then let the clamp bite into the skin. To Artemus, it felt as if a burning ember had been pressed to his skin. He yelled aloud as the clamp’s teeth burrowed deep into the tender flesh of his nipple, but not deep to draw blood or irreparable damage. Within a second, the other was fastened, and the Queen stepped back admiring the chain as it trembled when he struggled.

“Silence your cries, Lord Artemus,” Cleopatra warned him over his yelling. “Rest assured, I will follow through with my threat to gag you. And a harsh gag will only add to your misery.”

It took a few seconds but he managed to quell his roars to a low, shuddering series of grunts.

“Better,” she said satisfactorily. “Now, since you prefer to mock the methods of offering, I will enlighten you.” Cleopatra ran her hand over the curvature of her left breast, carefully avoiding the circle of oiled areola. “A man’s offering is his semen, the alter my breasts. You will learn to give much, Lord Artemus; even though I am a kind Goddess, I am quite strict when it comes to tribute. Do you understand?”

Artemus stayed silent, a move that turned out to be a very poor one. With one touch of her finger, she pulled lightly down on the chain attached to the clamps, bringing back the throes of agony. “Every second you choose to ignore my will, another hour is added to this punishment.”

“YES!” he cried. “I understand.”

“Is that any way to speak to your Goddess?” she hissed. “Again!”

“Yes, my Goddess!” he cried out again. “I understand.”

She removed her finger, and Artemus let out a pained sigh of relief, grateful that the pain had diminished somewhat. No sooner than he did, he let out a surprised intake of breath. Cleopatra’s hands had circled his cock once again and began to pump. The pain fell away, overpowered by the tidal wave of pleasure. She continued longer this time, her hands expertly squeezing and stroking his shaft. Soon, his balls began to tingle, his head flex, and-

“No, Lord Artemus, you shall not orgasm,” she whispered softly, and ceased the masturbation.

“Gods!” he cried out in frustration as his cock began to relax. Her hand swept out, slapping his face at his blasphemy and leaving a streak of oil on his cheek.

“You insult your Goddess,” she purred with a venom dipped voice. “I am the only one you shall worship. No longer will you be chained to the silent Jove.”

Cleopatra took from the table another cane. It was branched, almost two sticks of wood bound together. Artemus moaned and shook his head. “Please, not again.”

“What I wish, is all that matters,” the Queen replied as she slowly circled around him, until his ass was within striking distance. She drew back the cane and struck.

Not only was the lash firey hot against his already sore buttocks, but the cane pinched his flesh, pulling it painfully as it was brought back for another strike. Artemus screamed in agony as his ass was set ablaze by a second stroke, then a third, then a fourth…

To Be Continued?

You tell me.

       The Goddess of the Nile, Queen Cleopatra, tugged on the supple black leather leash.

       “Crawl.”

       The slave, a young woman with a curvy form, large round breasts, and a head of brilliantly gold hair let out a mew through the rubber ball gag. Her brilliant green eyes staring wide and straight ahead, she rose from her haunches, having been properly kneeling in presentation, back straight and knees spread.

       The ropes that encircled her body bound her arms tightly behind her, folded on top of each other, then lassoed them to her waist. More rope crisscrossed around and between her breasts separating them, and in addition to her posture, ensured they stayed perky and presented. Her bare rear end, muscles toned appropriately, bore faint wisps of red from earlier lashings.

       The slave took a few shaky steps on her knees, wincing briefly in discomfort as her weight was focused through to the bare marble floor. The Queen impatiently tugged again on the leash that clipped to the leather training collar around her neck, coaxing her into a full blown crawl in a lopsided circle around her stance.

       Watching Queen Cleopatra break and train a girl was intoxicating, Artemus realized when he was forced to bare witness time and time again. Every motion she made, whether it be a rewarding kiss or a cruel flick of a whip or cane was like watching liquid beauty, and reminded him just how gracious she was being in allowing him the pleasure to watch.

       It had been nearly a week since the Queen foiled his plans and drugged him at dinner. Despite his beliefs about his willpower, the physical discipline she inflicted upon him was almost too much to bear. Days of caning and whipping almost drove him to tears. Still, he defiantly refused to submit to her. But it turned out that he was only playing straight into her wishes; she knew that he would not submit so easily. Instead, she was now inflicting on him an even greater punishment.

       True to her word, Artemus had not orgasmed since his capture.

       Her aphrodisiac, the delicious white liquor of her breasts, was forced down his throat every day. Little by little, he found himself resisting the drink less and less, until all her servants had to do was tip his head back and pour the liquid in his mouth. Who was he to resist such a gift and the pleasure it brought? The taste of the drink was delicious, and during the lengths of time which he did not imbibe it, he found himself desiring for it.

       The only time Artemus was not erect was if he was lucky in the morning, after little sleep from the arousal the drink brought after night. Even then, he had to bar Cleopatra and her nude hand maidens from his mind, lest his erection return in full. As usual, it was useless, because mere moments later he was forced into arousal again as nude slaves pressed the cup to his lips.

       And if the aphrodisiac wasn’t enough, Cleopatra would inflict terrible denial upon him. It was unlikely that Artemus would escape a day without an incomplete handjob or fellatio, even more so if it was from the Queen herself, who now without a doubt to Artemus was truly a Goddess of sex and pleasure.

       Even now, his attention was boiling. In one of the Queen’s antechambers where she currently trained the slave, he was bound to a simple stool, legs spread and tied to the wood. A voluptuous Nubian, naked and on all fours with her large ass cocked high into the air, obediently sat nestled between his legs with the apparent intent of sucking him dry. Artemus would have loved to have tried to enjoy it, but he knew that if his attention wandered from Cleopatra, the Queen would stop what she was doing and have him lashed. The first and only time it happened so far was more than enough to remind him to not repeat the offense.

       It was agonizing. The Nubian’s powerful lips seemed to create a perfect seal around his girth, and every time she slid down on his cock, her lips kissed the base. All nine inches of his cock would disappear into her without so much as a gag or choke. To contend with the exotic sensation, he was forced to watch a heavenly woman make a beautiful girl submit in the most erotic ways.  Artemus found his focus wavering as he forced to stare wide eyed into the Queen’s breathtaking bosom.

       Cleopatra turned, still guiding the slave in her circle, the lush cascade of her dark, silky hair flowing with her movements. Her outfit resembled that of a bikini, though far skimpier. Instead of cloth, the shoulder straps were finely woven gold chains that hung very loose over the curvature of her melon sized breasts. There was no brassiere; instead, two hammered plates of gold in the shape and texture of seashells covered her nipples, and were far too small to cover the fist-sized area of her areolas. Two large, teardrop-shaped diamonds hung from the shells, sparking brilliantly in the afternoon light. Around her waist, slung low and loose, was the thong bottom, more thin chain that connected to a tiny square of glossy silk over her pussy. The curve of her lips pushed easily through the thin fabric. The thin waistband was adorned with more diamonds.

       Artemus desperately wished for her attention. Little by little, he longed more and more for her, or more specifically, the release she could grant him. Trapped in her palace of discipline and pleasure, the thought of escape soon left him. He was unarmed, and there was always something preventing him from leaving. If it wasn’t a locked door, it was ropes with unbreakable knots. If not knots, armed guards. If not guards, then the Queen herself with her seducing aroma and aura, something that he could almost not refuse. The only way to relieve his throbbing cock or swollen semen filled balls was by the Queen.

       Cleopatra tugged upward on the leash. “Stop.” The slave froze, barely daring to breath. “Turn.” The girl hobbled in a circle, placing her back to the Queen as asked, now facing Artemus, whose thoughts of being a voyeur long since gone. The Goddess leaned down, gently running her hands through the girl’s hair, which had been put up to be kept out of the way. “Very good, slave,” she whispered into her ear. “See how easy your training becomes when you obey without question?” The girl nodded every so slightly, the gag blocking any assent.

       Artemus could only watch and listen as the Queen hovered over the helpless girl like an eagle over a mouse. The Nubian at his groin continued her solitary order of pleasure, and he felt his cock flex hard. Artemus let out a barely audible moan, his frustrated cries muffled by his own ball gag. Unlike the slave Cleopatra was training, his gag was far more elaborate, and larger. It consisted of straps that buckled behind his head, under his chin, and a set that connected at the bridge of his nose before running over his head to join with the others. The ball, red, rubber, and about 2 inches in diameter, sat painfully wedged behind his teeth. A torrent of drool was leaking from his mouth, dousing his pectoral region in streaks of saliva.

       Still, the Nubian seemed to be heedless to his agitation. Maybe she would accidentally go too far, and tip him to orgasm. All of the Queen’s training thus far would be ruined. The Nubian would be punished no doubt, but Artemus would be free to laugh at Cleopatra’s frustration. He would win.

       His eyes rolled upward as the mouth-fuck continued. 20 seconds, at most, then he would explode. All the come from the last week would unload into her mouth. He could almost picture the Queen shrieking with fury as he roared in orgasm, the Nubian slave choking on the sudden river of come. Almost…Almost…

       -it stopped. His cock slid out of her mouth with a loud slurp as she sucked the gobs of saliva off, leaving it shiny and clean. Beads of her spit beaded down his enormous balls to slowly patter in strings to the floor. But there was nothing else, even as the Nubian seemed frozen with her lips an inch away from his cock.

       Artemus cried out in muffled frustration. He’d been so close, the closest he’d been yet! Now, his cock cooled in the air, and already, the trembling, bursting sensation was beginning to relax, back towards the dull ache of constant arousal that had tormented him.

       “Oh, Lord Artemus,” came the Queen’s silky voice. “Are you that foolish?”

       She was gazing upon him with her dark stare, the diamonds on her breasts twinkling. The girl’s head was cupped in her hand and pressed to her creamy thigh. The tiny bit of nerve and fear in her eyes had somehow dissipated in the last few seconds, and she was now staring at him, her green eyes covered with glassy submission.

       “I told you, my word is absolute,” she continued, stroking the side of the girl’s face, who promptly cooed in pleasure. “You shall not come unless I allow you to.” She extended the leash in her hand towards the Nubian. “Slave, take this one to the sultan’s chambers for this evening when he visists. She is eager to please.”

       The Nubian complied and rose, taking the leash. The gold-haired slave rose and quickly trotted when the ebony woman tugged on the leather, her head bowed, and the two of them left the chamber. She moved to him, her hips swaying seductively, the metal gold on her outfit tinkling mischievously. Artemus fidgeted nervously on the stool; the room had more than enough toys to appease her insatiable lust for physical pain.

       But instead, she drew close, then gently squatted between his open legs, lowering herself to her knees. An act of submission, but Artemus knew from the giddy sense of adrenaline of her being that close to his cock that it was anything generous.

       Cleopatra looked at his cock thoughtfully, as if she was inspecting it for the first time. Nine inches of flesh and muscle stared up at her in a straight rod. The head, a powerful bud of flesh with a prominent crown, was a deep shade of red, glassy from the Nubian’s mouth.

       Gently, with one hand, she lifted it, as if testing its weight. A drop of precum oozed from the slit, a testament that his body was still feeding off the aphrodisiac. The thick, powerful mass of muscles strained in her hand, and she let it fall, where it bobbed once before standing still. Artemus quivered from her energetic touch, desiring it lustfully.

       “As I have said before, an impressive organ,” she whispered. “It will be mine, rest assured. It shall pleasure me to its fullest extent. Only the cock of a Roman general who has conquered thousands shall satisfy me.” Her hand crept lower to his quivering balls. They were large, befitting of a man of his stature, ripe for sex and pleasure. Her palm gently massaged them, and like with his cock, lifted the slightly dangling globes. “Heavy and full of semen, a bountiful offer for my breasts when the time comes.”

       Without warning, she descended upon his still moist cock, taking half the length into her mouth. Artemus moaned in ecstasy, drool bubbling from his lower lip and down his chin. But his sounds of pleasure turned to throes of agony when she suddenly bit down. The Queen slowly pulled her head back her teeth grazing hard upon the sensitive skin of his cock, until the crown of the head interfered. The line of hot fire she traced exploded into fury as she bumped over the head and let the member slip out.

       “Soon, Lord Artemus, very soon…”

       With that, she left him and his fire touched cock to sit in agony.

A quick, short update. Thank you all for the reviews to the story! I’d like to hear what you think, what you’d like to see in this type of story. Let me know your suggestions, either in a review or an email, and I’ll see if I can weave them into the story. See you at the next update!

       Night had fallen over the desert. Hundreds of stars winked in the inky black sky as they awoke one by one. In the highest tower of the Nile Palace, Artemus sat bound on a small stool in the Queen’s chamber.

       A breeze gently floated into the room, moving the long silk curtains that hung from the arches of the balcony behind him in silent flutters. Everything in Cleopatra’s quarters matched the elegance of the rest of the palace; marble carvings, golden trimmings, and decadent silk hangings. Her enormous bed lay made with gold silk sheets, cool, yet always comfortable no matter what the heat.

       Even the stool Artemus was bound to was perfect, standing on four carved legs that tucked his bound ankles back so his legs spread. An elegant red cushion sat comfortably against his bare buttocks, ensuring that if needed, he could sit for hours, which he already had.

       His ankles bound to the legs, and his wrists behind him tethered to a small loop on the seat, he was unable to do anything but squirm. Another week had passed, another week of endless tease and denial. Another week of what seemed like endless numbers of beautiful woman licking, stroking and fondling his cock. Another week of the Queen’s touch, so close, yet so distant.

       She lay like a lounger on her bed, naked save for a translucent robe of white silk trimmed with gold at the hem and sleeves. Her voluminous bust spilled from the open neckline, glorious and beautiful as ever. Around her neck lay a royal necklace of glittering diamonds that flickered and danced in the low erotic light of the wall torches. Her silver circlet seemed to writhe with a life of its own as the orange light hit it.

       “Does it not excite you, Lord Artemus, to be in the personal quarters of your Goddess?” Cleopatra purred delicately, taking the large nipple of her right breast in her hand and gently kneading it.

       Artemus moaned through his ball gag. The white liquor of aphrodisiac he was fed hours ago was in full bloom. His mighty cock stood stiff as it had the past two weeks, sitting rigidly on the cushion of his large balls. Restrained and forced to simply lay eyes on her was torture enough, but he knew the Queen had more in store.

       The double doors that served as the portal to her quarters opened with a dull sound. Leather boots sounded powerfully over the patter of bare feet as two Egyptian guards towed three naked men in by chained collars. Artemus let his attention wander from the Queen’s magnificent form just enough to see them.

       The three of them were of varying age, but the oldest of them seemed no more than his mid-twenties, years younger than Artemus himself. The youngest of the three shocked him; he seemed to be merely a boy of 15 or 16 years of age.

       All three were handsome. The oldest had shoulder length brown hair and a chiseled athlete’s body. The second oldest was blond with sparkling blue eyes and a body not unlike the eldest. The youngest, the boy, was beautiful in his youth, and his cock matched the length of the others, which was impressive for his age.

       The guards tugged the slaves to the foot of the bed, chains clinking lightly in the silence. They were ball gagged, but theirs had only the single strap behind their heads as opposed to the leather torment that harnessed Artemus’s. After detaching the chained leashes, the guards departed, sealing the doors behind them.

       “It takes much to satisfy a Goddess,” remarked the Queen as she uncoiled herself from her lounge and moved to the slaves, bare feet pattering softly on the smooth marble floor. They stood with heads bowed, only looking up when she lifted their chins to peer into the eyes. “Such few men are worthy and capable of withstanding it.”

       She selected the youngest one first. No command was issued from her, merely a caress of the boy’s cheek. Obediently, he left the line with the others and moved to the side of her bed. Cleopatra swayed after him, slowly undoing the golden tassel that held her robe closed at the waist, stopping before Artemus.

       “You will watch, Lord Artemus,” she instructed, as she parted the garment, revealing her perfect, nude form. “You will watch, lest you wish to drown in the misery you are in for eternity.”

       Cleopatra let the robe pool before his feet, then turned to the boy. Her jewelry and diamonds glittered wildly, as if her own body was supplying them energy. Together, they climbed to the bed, the boy lying without a word on his back, his long cock poised straight up like a stick.

       Time seemed to slow as she straddled first his waist, wiggling her hips down, then took hold of his cock and slid it into her, taking it all the way in. With a breath of passion, Cleopatra arched her back, enormous bosom splayed like two moons, and began to rock her hips slowly.

       Artemus’s own cock twitched and tingled as the Queen let out a throaty moan of ecstasy as she rode the boy. The boy remained semi-passive, not moaning loudly in what should have been divine pleasure, but his breathing increased as his face twisted into a heavenly expression. Artemus couldn’t help but feel a trickle of envy down his back. He was so close, witnessing a Goddess of pleasure satisfy herself. Who was this boy that he was so more experienced than himself, he who made hundreds of women scream in bed?

       The Queen’s buttocks slapped gently against his thighs, rhythmically and as constant as a clock. He caught sight of an inch of the boys cock as it slid in and out, for the most part staying buried within her.

       The riding seemed to last an eternity. Cleopatra would moan and gasp in satisfaction as her slave supplied his erection for her pleasure. Then, as if sensing something, her hips ceased the motion and she rose, the boys cock sliding out and glimmering with her juices.

       The Queen swung herself off, and through another unseen command, the boy got off the bed, and the oldest slave climbed onto it. She lay back, lifting one leg which the boy obediently took hold of at the calf, straddling her other leg, then slid his cock into her.

       This time, the slave controlled the pace, which was brisk and efficient in comparison to the passionate rock of the younger slave. Cleopatra stifled a gasp as his pelvis spanked her lower cheeks, her fingers once again finding a nipple and tweaking.

       Artemus fidgeted in protest as his cock screamed for her attention. He wanted a chance to prove himself, to show that he could pleasure her better than a man younger than himself. She had even said he would be the one to satisfy her! Was this her form of final torment and punishment? The Queen ignored his insignificant sounds, more focused on the dashing man that was expertly satisfying her.

       The gasps and moans turned to small cries. The length and girth of the slaves cock slid in and out endlessly. The crown of his head barely left before it was thrust deep within her again. His balls slapped the underside of her ass, the sound nearly as loud as his pelvis.

       Once again, it suddenly ended, and the slave withdrew. The Queen, her panting almost feral, splayed herself across the bed as the third slave, the blond climbed the bed, prostrating himself on the silk like the first.

Cleopatra mounted him, then began to thrust him furiously inside of herself. Her hands found her clitoris and began to stroke furiously, her pants and cries now nothing short of screams of pleasure. The full, round orbs of her ass ground hard onto the slave’s thigh, slapping loudly as she threw herself upon him again and again.

Her back arched again. Her breasts heaved with her heavy breathing, then began to bounce, softly at first, then wildly as their momentum grew. The divine noises she made grew louder and louder, then it happened.

With a scream, she climaxed.

Artemus thought he felt the very air vibrate with her resounding cry that seemed to pierce his body. For a moment, she fell back, her body racked with shudders, glistening with sweat and light from the diamonds. Her shoulder-length black hair spread like a wavy dream across the silk.

The Queen recovered from her violent orgasm and composed herself, rising like a wave of flesh from the bed. The blond slave took his place at the side of her bed, joined by the other slaves. She slid off the sheets and sank to her knees on trembling legs, the cleavage of her bust hovering just below their cocks. Each of them took their members in their hands, stroking methodically.

“Release, now,” she commanded.

Almost simultaneously, they orgasmed, three separate jets of come splashing in torrents across her breasts. The three of them buckled and grunted and moaned, forcing every drop to squeeze out and mingle upon her heavenly flesh.

Their offerings given, the slaves knelt at the foot of the bed, heads bowed, waiting for the guards to collect them later. Cleopatra rose to her feet and slowly turned her attention to Artemus, deadly seduction still in her eyes despite her prolonged sex. Her pussy was wet as if splashed with water, her breasts milky and gleaming in the light.

“Do you see now, Lord Artemus?” was all she asked.

Artemus furiously nodded his head. Yes! He realized everything! She was the Goddess of Pleasure. Who was he to deny her anything? He needed the discipline to see it; he’d been blind with misconceptions that he was the one in control. In reality, his life was merely a stepping stone for hers.

The Queen dabbed her breasts clean of the semen with a cloth, then swayed before him and slowly straddled his lap. Her breasts pushed into his chest, their weight warm, comforting, and moist. She tipped her head, staring deep into his eyes, her flawless face mere inches from his own. He could feel the dampness between her legs on his cock as she ground deeper onto him.

Slowly, she traced a line of kisses across his gag, prompting a coo from him. Her electric gaze bore down on him. He didn’t, no, couldn’t, look away. “Breathe deeply…in…and out,” she whispered.

He didn’t realize he was quivering so. His breaths came out in shudders, but he matched the deep rise and fall of her own bosom. Her scent filled his nose, sweet and almost tangible to the taste. The shuddering disappeared, replaced by a sense of overwhelming desire.

“What are you holding onto?” she murmured after tracing another line of kisses. “What do you refuse to relinquish?”

Nothing. He needed nothing in this world but her. All that mattered was her.

“Let go,” she whispered. “Simply let go and release yourself to me...”

He could feel it. Everything was slowly changing about him. He seemed to care less and less about his own body. The only thing that stayed constant was his Goddess and the insatiable need to be in her presence…And of course the tension and frustration in his cock.

Artemus let go. He let everything go and let his will fall to hers. The everlasting beauty, the Goddess of the Nile was all that mattered now. Not Rome, not glory, not wealth, only her.

Her hand snaked down his chest, now beaded with sweat and cupped his balls, still heavy from their size and load. Two weeks of come trapped, begging to be released from the nozzle that was his cock. He melted as her warm hand softly juggled them, his body almost sagging on the spot.

“Are you ready to give your offering to your Goddess?”

       It was all hers, every drop and every drop he would ever create. He would give it gladly, spending it whenever she desired, for whatever reason. Artemus nodded, eyes blurring from tears of relief, now certain that she would release him. Gone was the cruel woman who punished with pleasure. It was a necessary punishment for his wicked thoughts of trying to control her and cause her harm. He knew that it was foolish, and that by her grace if she was willing to bring him into her.

       The Queen’s hand encircled his cock, and she slid off his lap, sinking to her knees before him, and began to stroke lightly. Artemus moaned in pleasure as her talented hands played with his shaft. Her milk boiled in his belly, spreading its excitement to every inch of his body.

       “Release your offering, slave, and release your ties to the world you knew.”

       His orgasm built like a wave in the ocean, gathering speed and strength and beginning to rise. The last thing he saw as his eyes rolled back into his head were the Queen’s breasts, the head of his puckered cock an inch above one.

       Artemus screamed into his gag as the pressure built to its maximum, then released. Two weeks of held agony and frustration burst forth in a milky white rage onto the Queen’s breast. His cock flexed once, finishing the first jet, then flexed again, shooting an equally frothy burst onto her mound. It released a third time with a blinding wave of pleasure that sapped every ounce of strength from his body.

       The shimmering mass of semen that left his cock covered her entire right breast in a white blanket. His offering to his Goddess…a token of his submission and obedience. He was now hers.

       Artemus thought he could weep as she swooped down on him, kissing his gagged lips, thinking that now he was happier than ever before.

The End

       Author’s note: I hope you enjoyed the story! Once again, I’m open to any and all suggestions. Leave them in a review or email them to me, and I’ll see if I can put them in my next Cleopatra story.