The Emperor who Came and Conquered

Branan the Great. Branan the Brute. Branan the Conqueror. He never tired of hearing his name and all the heroic tales that lesser men spread about him throughout all the land, much of which he had already conquered. Back home, many claimed he was a fallen God, and sometimes, even he believed that one to be true. But he was hundreds of leagues from the land he had conquered. Here he was just another mysterious powerful man. Just another human being.

It was in those first few moments after he woke up that he felt most human. In those moments, he felt each and every emotion with so much intensity he could almost see the engorged veins on his chiseled arms pulsating with emotion. 

He heard a soft creak as the doors to the chambers he was staying in opened and two servants scurried in. They were bright eyed, with shoulder length curly hair and golden skin browned from the Antheros sun. He wondered how early they woke up and how long they stood with their ears glued to the door waiting to hear the faintest hint that the great Emperor had woken up and was ready for his morning routine.

“If it pleases our Most Sacred, Most Divine, Emperor Branan,” the two servants said in unison with voices so sweet and smooth, they felt like a song. “We would bless this day, in his name.” 

Branan waved his hand impatiently for them to approach him. He sat up in his bed and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors across the room. His face was not much to look but his eyes were piercing and his chin strong; he had a beard that grew thick and long to his chest, resting on that deep valley between his two hairy mounds of chest muscle. He gave them each a twitch and in a second the two servants approached and started to gently massage holy oil onto his chest.

They wore short, sleeveless tunics that ended right at the top of their thighs, so that as they bent forward to tend to his chest, he could see their holes peeking out in the reflection in the mirror. Up close the scent of the oils they had on their skin was enough to get him to bury his nose in their bodies. 

The servants, continued rubbing holy oil, on his chest, and his meaty back, whispering quiet prayers for the Gods in the emperor’s ears. And Branan felt himself become increasingly engorged. Mornings were especially hard for him, the throbbing was almost unbearable as blood continued to rush to his groin but he had to wait for the ritual to be complete before he could mount the two servants. In the meantime, there was no holy law that forbade him from kissing, nibbling, embracing the two servants and exploring every inch of their scented, soft skin with his thick fingers, feeling their own throbbing poke at him through their short tunics.

But when they finished their prayers, and the taller of the two knelt down and started to plant kisses around his groin, cupping his manhood around his hands, Branan found himself pushing the servant away. The other servant continued to kiss him around the neck while squeezing his chest and nipples. 

“Away!” His voice boomed at the one on the floor. “Fetch the Priest, bring him to me at once.”

“But Master,” the servant’s voice broke as he hesitated and tried to hide his own hardness under his short tunic. “Will you not ache without release? We have blessed you and now it is our duty to please you.”

The Emperor, stood up, towering over the servant his hardness close enough to touch the servant. He took one step towards the servant and gave him a stern look. For a moment the servant wasn’t sure if the Emperor would smack him for insubordination or throw him on the bed and rip the tunic off his smooth body.

“Fetch the Priest.” Branan growled and the servant scurried away, almost tripping himself as he approached the door.

The other servant grabbed a gold embroidered, soft tunic and held it out for the Emperor to wear.

“Are you afraid the Priest has never seen an aroused man before,” the Emperor said and pulled the servant closer to him, placing his hardness between the servant’s warm, soft thighs. This one was his favourite servant.

“Master, you are not just any man,”  the servant said, tightly squeezing his thighs and making the Emperor groan quietly in his ear.

The Emperor started pulling the servant’s tunic off over his head and revealing his toned chest, smooth body, and his pink nipples.

“Master, it is a bad omen to tempt the Priest. Please, Master,” the servant pleaded, burying his head tenderly in the Emperor’s hairy chest and placing the tunic in his hands. This time the Emperor accepted and he started putting the tunic on.

There was a knock on the door, and a moment later the other servant reentered the room with a young dark haired Priest following behind him. The Priest wore a full-length robe, sleeveless so the holy tattoos down his firm biceps and forearms were clearly visible.

“Most Divine-” the Priest started addressing the Emperor but he stopped suddenly, entranced as his gaze fell on the Emperor who stood with his legs spread apart, arms on his waist and making no attempts to hide his excitement under the tunic he had thrown on.

“Yes, yes, have a seat,” the Emperor said as one of the servants took the Priest to a chair where the Priest sat down so that he was at eye level with the Emperor’s…

“Two moons ago the Gods told me to sail across the Great Sea. Last night I finally found out why.”

“The Gods visited you?” The Priest asked, regaining his composure.

“Come here, I want to show you something,” the Emperor said, holding out his big hand to the Priest.

“I-I-I,” the Priest responded, taking the Emperor’s hand. As the Emperor guided him towards him he could almost feel the heat radiating from the Emperor’s body. His mouth started to water and he could feel his cheeks burning up. 

“I have taken a vow of chastity,” the Priest said almost inaudibly as the Emperor now guided him from behind. The Emperor’s body pressed against his so the Priest could feel each breath, each twitch of every single muscle.

The Emperor guided him to the window that overlooked the Palace courtyard and handed him a set of binoculars. 

“Look through that window and tell me what you see.” The Emperor said in a soft voice.

Through  a window, the Priest saw a man being given a bath by his servant, it took a while for him to recognise the man. And when he did he couldn’t avert his eyes fast enough.

“That’s the King! Perhaps we shouldn’t-”

“I have decided I want his kingdom and most of all, I want him. My loins ache for him, can you feel how I ache,” Branan whispered into the Priest’s ear who backed even closer to the Emperor to get a deeper sense of his pain.

“Yes, I can feel everything. But the King is stubborn. I have seen the lust in his eyes when he looks at you. He might succumb to enough temptation but he won’t surrender his kingdom without a fight.”

“My army is undefeated, we could take his kingdom without breaking a sweat. What I want to know, my dear Priest, will he surrender his body, wholly, and until the end of time to Branan the Great?” 

“My body aches, and only the touch of the King of Antheros can ease my pain,” the Emperor said as he grinded himself into the Priest’s meaty buttocks. At this point he started to rub his hands around the Priest’s chest and began loosening the ties around his chest. “Will you put in a good word for me with the Gods? Ask them what it will take to make the King submit to me. There is nothing I won’t do to make him bend the knee.”