“Let’s see the power of this gift he offers.”
Conan stared back at her. He’d imagined their first encounter would start off something like this .. him the captive, her dominating the scene. Only he hadn’t reckoned on getting betrayed by his own moronic crew. Fuck ‘em! A god’s gift to women! The pricks! Couldn’t they keep their gobs shut?
That phrase she’d used .. “castrate a god” .. seeing Conan’s theft as robbing their god of his jewelled cock .. …. As castration. He’d never looked at it that way. An ominous thought. In the hands of a world-class sadist. An evil-minded bitch.
And when a pair of temple-boys rushed forward and yanked off his minimal covering, those words jangled in his ear. Castration. Was THAT his due? Desperate he looked down at the young men .. dreading to see the flash of a sharp blade. Grateful to see none.
On the other hand, he HAD set out to impress her some way. He wasn’t giving up hope on tempting himself into her thoughts. And with Old-cocky out on display .. well, that was one way to start.
Around, about half-a-dozen young men stood intent beside her throne. Attired in just a thong .. the hair underneath clearly shaved away. Young, virile, but men still putting on bulk .. and every single one to them etched to muscled perfection like most young girls’ best wet dream. Lithe, shredded, muscular. As good as naked, stood attentive at her beck-and-call.
One had gone down on one knee, reached in. Deftly he had Conan’s ballsack in his hand before Conan grasped what he was about.
“Get the fuck off.”
He wriggled the man away. But the grip persisted. Conan felt more fumbling down there. A tug. Tight around the back of his ballsack. Biting into the base of his shaft. Conan did not need showing what he had done. She had ordered Conan’s strength displayed. And .. with practised effort .. they’d got him cinched up good and tight.