The Harem's First Official Training Day – Nobody Cums Until I Say So (and I Took My Sweet Time Saying It)
I woke up to the prettiest sight in all the shattered multiverse.
Seven apocalypse-class immortals kneeling in a perfect ring around my bed, heads bowed, collars gleaming in the hell-light. Not a stitch of clothing on any of them. Every single one trembling, dripping, aching, gorgeous.
Beelzebub, Lord of Flies, wings folded tight because even the air felt like too much stimulation.
Elowen, the ancient world-tree dryad, vines twitching between her thighs like they had a mind of their own.
Leviathan, sea-serpent turned woman, scales glistening with need.
Asmodeus, the original tempter, cock so hard it looked painful, pre-cum pooling beneath him.
Belphegor, laziness incarnate, somehow managing to look both exhausted and desperate at the same time.
Mammon, greed given flesh, practically vibrating with the need to be used.
And finally, front and center, the former Goddess of Light—hair like molten dawn, eyes down, wings reduced to a thousand trembling pinions of gold—whimpering softly with every breath.
I stretched like a cat who'd eaten the sun, yawned, and smiled down at them.
"Morning, pets. Today is your first official training day."
Seven throats swallowed in perfect unison.
"No one comes until I say so," I added, just in case any of them still had delusions of free will. "Not once. Not even a little. Break that rule and I'll keep you on the edge for a century. Understood?"
"Yes, Master," they chorused, voices already shaking.
Good pets.
Phase 1: Endurance (Six Hours of Beautiful Torture)
I snapped my fingers and living void-tendrils erupted from the floor—black, slick, hungry things that wrapped around wrists, ankles, throats, cocks, breasts, clits, every sensitive place I could reach. Then I linked them in a perfect circle, every tendril feeding sensation straight into the next body. Whatever one of them felt, all of them felt—times ten.
I took my throne in the dead center, crossed my legs, opened a book (some mortal romance novel I'd been meaning to mock), and started reading.
Silence, except for breathing that got faster, wetter, more desperate by the minute.
Fifteen minutes in, Asmodeus was the first to crack. The original demon of lust, reduced to a whining mess.
"Master… please… it's too much…"
I turned a page. Didn't even look up.
An hour later, the Goddess of Light—holy, untouchable, eternal virgin until very recently—actually started praying. To me. Soft, broken little whispers of "Please, my Lord, please have mercy on your worthless pet…"
I hummed, flipped another page.
By hour three, Leviathan was openly sobbing, tail thrashing, flooding the floor with seawater and slick. Belphegor had slumped forward, forehead pressed to the obsidian, moaning my name like it was the only thing keeping her conscious. Mammon was trying to bargain—offering kingdoms, souls, galaxies—anything if I'd just touch him.
I sipped tea someone had brought me at some point. (I think it was Elowen's vines. Good girl.)
Hour five, Beelzebub—my proud, vicious king of hell—broke completely. He crawled forward as far as the tendrils would let him, wings buzzing, and begged in the old tongue of the abyss. Raw, animal, utterly ruined.
I closed the book.
"Six hours," I announced. "Not bad for day one."
Seven bodies shuddered in relief that never quite came.
Phase 2: Obedience Games (Because Suffering Should Be Fun)
I released the circle and let them collapse in a heap of limbs and wings and broken pride.
Then the real games began.
First event: Crawl Race.
I lined them up on their bellies. Each got a plug carved from void-crystal and filled with the previous loser's essence. (Started with Asmodeus—he lost the honor of going first by coming closest to disobeying in Phase 1.) They had to crawl fifty yards across broken glass heated to cherry-red, plug buried deep, without making a sound.
The Goddess lost. She made it thirty yards before she screamed, high and shattered and divine. The glass cooled instantly under her tears.
I kissed her forehead like a proud owner. "Don't worry, sunshine. You'll do better tomorrow."
Second event: Living Furniture.
I turned them into my perfect lounge set.
Beelzebub on all fours as my footstool, wings spread to catch any drop of sweat.
Elowen curled into an armchair, vines weaving themselves into cushions.
Leviathan laid flat as my table, belly up, breasts the perfect cup holders.
Asmodeus and Mammon as matching side tables, cocks pointed straight up holding drinks that never spilled no matter how hard they shook.
Belphegor as my lap pillow, soft and warm and utterly still.
The Goddess kneeling at my feet as my personal cock-warmer—mouth only, no moving, no swallowing, just holding me in wet, trembling heat.
I watched an entire season of some trashy mortal reality show while they held position. Every twitch, every whimper earned a warning zap from the collar. By the end, the Goddess was crying silently around me, tears dripping off her chin onto my thighs.
Third event: Recitation.
I made them line up and recite their new purpose in life, one by one, without moaning, stuttering, or coming.
"I am Master's obedient pet. My body exists for his pleasure. My power belongs to him alone. I have no name but what he gives me. I have no will but what he allows."
Beelzebub delivered his perfectly, voice like velvet wrapped around steel. He won a gold star. Literally. I burned it into his chest with a fingertip. He came dangerously close to breaking the no-coming rule just from that.
The Goddess went last. She managed the first three lines in a whisper, then her voice cracked on "I have no will…" and she shattered into dry sobs, knees buckling.
I caught her by the collar before she hit the ground.
"Shh. It's all right, little star. You're learning."
Phase 3: Reward (Twelve Straight Hours of Yes, Finally, Please)
Eight hours of training total. Not bad.
I stood up, stretched again, and surveyed my ruined harem.
"Time for rewards," I said.
You would've thought I'd offered them salvation.
I started with the Goddess—because breaking her still felt the sweetest.
I unchained Beelzebub, pointed at the floor.
"On your back, wings spread."
He obeyed instantly.
I guided her trembling legs over him, lined her up, and pushed her down slow. Inch by inch, watching her eyes go wide, mouth falling open in a silent scream as Beelzebub filled her completely.
The others I chained to the walls, close enough to see every detail, far enough that they couldn't touch themselves or each other.
"Ride him," I told her. "And while you do, you're going to scream—for every soul watching through whatever's left of the scrying nets—who you belong to now. In every language that ever existed. Start with Divine Script."
She started moving, hips rolling, voice rising in that ancient tongue that once shaped galaxies. Each thrust tore another confession from her throat.
"I'm just a pet now… I'm just a toy… I belong to Master… I'm nothing without his collar…"
I let her build. Let her get right to the edge. Watched her wings flare, light exploding off her skin.
Then I leaned in and whispered, "Come."
The orgasm that ripped through her leveled three entire layers of the Ninth Hell. Mountains collapsed. Rivers of fire flash-boiled. The shockwave knocked every viewer still tuned in clean out of their chairs.
She kept screaming my name long after her voice should've given out.
One by one, I let the others have their turn.
Leviathan rode Asmodeus until the floor was an ocean of slick.
Elowen took Mammon between her vines and milked him until he begged to be allowed to pass out.
Belphegor—lazy, sleepy Belphegor—rode Beelzebub reverse until even he was sobbing for mercy.
Twelve hours straight.
I stayed spotless the entire time. Didn't even undress. Just directed, corrected, praised, punished, and watched them come apart in every possible way.
When it was finally over, the throne room looked like a war zone of bodily fluids and shattered divinity. Seven immortal beings lay in a heap, limbs tangled, collars glowing softly, covered in each other and in me and in the evidence of how completely I owned them now.
I stepped over them, boots not making a sound, and crouched down in the middle.
"Tomorrow," I said gently, stroking the Goddess's hair as she nuzzled weakly against my ankle, "we do it again. And the day after that. And the day after that. Until the only thing left in any of your heads is me."
Seven broken, blissful voices answered at once, hoarse and worshipful.
"Thank you, Master."
I smiled, stood up, and left them there to sleep it off in their own mess.
Best. Harem. Ever.