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The Temple

Iris ruled over all the men in this city. 

Lawyers, politicians, prosecutors, and entrepreneurs, teachers and actors, TV presenters, and train drivers – all were loyal to her, but above all, she commanded the construction workers.

Every day followed a strict routine. Iris was woken up by the howls and groans of a man in the bell tower, taking it up the ass from another man. Her personal chef prepared her a smoothie with twenty-four exquisite ingredients, freshly picked from her garden. Now that it was spring, the smoothie even featured the season’s very first raspberry.

Her philosophy was “as within, so without,” which is why Iris had her breasts massaged daily by two men while they simultaneously rubbed them with coconut oil. To honor her breasts properly, two additional men followed her wherever she went, holding the wooden poles of her handcrafted breast supports.

Iris was adored and worshiped for her unyielding nature. Anyone who showed themselves to be obedient, did not dare to talk back and did exactly what she wanted was recruited and allowed to rule over a group of slaves.

Reproduction was of utmost importance to Iris, ensuring her bloodline’s continuity. Everyone aspired to be the chosen one, but the path was grueling. Much like a street gang, few men survived past thirty. A single misstep meant ending up on the sacrificial altar.

“My most exalted Majesty, Felix has made a grave mistake,” announced Jan Klein, her advisor and the man with the largest cock.

“Bring him here,” Iris commanded from her golden throne, visibly annoyed as lunch was being served.

Four men from the Iron Cock Brigade dragged Felix in and flung him at her feet.

“What have you done?” Iris wanted to know.

“I dreamt of you, my liege, and in my lust, I lost my seed in the night. I’m so sorry…”

“You fool! Was your seed not extracted as per my orders? Jan, remind me of my directive.”

“The decree states that every man’s seed must be extracted on the second day, without ejaculation, solely for the slaves’ consumption to ensure their health and vitality.”

“It was forgotten! Oh dear!” Felix moaned.

“Chop off the balls and the cock of everyone responsible for this negligence! Collect their blood to water my gladioli. As for the eunuchs… send them to the men’s choir!”

Iris dined with her closest confidants at a grand table, revealing her next ambitious plan. She desired a colossal battle in the arena: One hundred of the best men should fuck themselves to death with sex toys. Each against all. The last man standing would be the victor.

After all, her future husband had to prove he could handle her, as no lover had survived a night with her yet.

Iris was eager, her yoni already tingling with anticipation.