Chapter 3 #3
The woman stood up, her face apologetic. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just… I’ve never seen a man before…”
Andrew’s mouth almost fell open at her words. “What?”
Catching his expression, she continued, “Well, I mean, a real one. Like everyone else, I’ve heard the legends and seen the drawings. But just… to have one here in front of me is…” Her voice trailed off as she stepped closer.
Andrew swallowed hard, catching a whiff of her scent again. It stirred something inside of him.
Suddenly, she touched his arms. “Please,” she said. “Can I at least see it? Just a glimpse will do!” she added, again staring at his crotch. Her breasts shifted as she moved, and her warm touch, proximity, and interest in his manhood sent the blood straight to his groin.
“Come on, lady,” he tried, but he could already feel himself reacting. He was getting hard.
Oh, come on, calm down.
It was useless. His body responded naturally to having such a beautiful woman so close to him. Before he knew it, his cock was throbbing in his boxers, tenting the fabric.
The woman gasped and stepped back, sitting down on the edge of the bed with her mouth hanging open. “Oh, my—” she stammered.
Embarrassed, Andrew half turned away, trying to hide it behind his hands. “Fuck!” he hissed.
“It’s—it’s so big,” she uttered, tilting her head to get a better look at the outline in his boxers.
“This is ridiculous,” Andrew muttered, turning fully away.
It was then that the door swung open, hitting the wall with a bang. The sudden noise made Andrew jump, and he turned toward the door on reflex.
A woman stepped inside.
Behind her, just for a split second before she moved, Andrew caught a glimpse of the crowded platform outside.
Dozens of women had gathered near the doorway, leaning, peering, trying to look past her into the room.
Their voices overlapped in hushed excitement before the door was pulled shut again with firm finality.
The woman who had entered stood still for a moment, her presence immediately commanding the space.
She was older than the blonde girl; he guessed mid-thirties, maybe, but there was nothing diminished about her.
If anything, she carried more weight, more certainty.
Her dark hair was intricately braided, woven with small beads and cords that clicked softly as she moved.
Layers of necklaces rested against the swell of her chest, along with charms and carved pieces that looked ceremonial rather than decorative.
Her gaze moved first to the blonde woman and hardened. “What is this outside?” she demanded, her voice low but sharp. “Why is there a gathering?”
The blonde woman straightened immediately, standing up. “I—I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“You were instructed to keep him hidden,” the other woman replied. “Quietly. Discreetly.”
“I know,” the girl said, lowering her eyes. “I only stepped out for a moment, and when I returned—”
The older woman exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose as if holding back further irritation.
“This is exactly why I advised against this,” she muttered.
“He should have been taken directly to the temple.” She shook her head slightly.
“But no,” she continued, more to herself now, “The Queen insists on signs and omens. ‘Let him remain where he was found,’ she said. ‘Do not anger the gods by removing him from his natural caretaker.’”
Her eyes flicked briefly to the younger blonde woman. “Ayla,” she added, more firmly this time.
Andrew glanced between them.
Ayla. So that’s her name.
Ayla shifted slightly under the attention but didn’t argue.
The older woman let out a slow breath, clearly forcing her frustration down before turning.
Her gaze landed on Andrew. And stopped.
For a brief moment, her expression didn’t change. Then her eyes lowered. And everything did. She inhaled sharply. “Oh…”
The sound was quiet, but filled with something closer to awe than surprise.
Andrew stiffened, immediately aware of what she was looking at. He instinctively turned slightly again, trying to angle himself away, but it didn’t help much.
The woman took a step closer. “By the gods…” she murmured. Her eyes lifted back to his face; searching, confirming. “It is true,” she said, almost reverently. “A real man.”
Andrew didn’t know where to look. “Okay, we’re really not doing this right now,” he said, raising a hand slightly. “Can someone just explain what’s—”
“The Seed Bringer,” the older woman said, cutting him off.
Andrew frowned. “The what?”
But she was already moving. Her hand closed firmly around his arm—not rough, but leaving no room for argument. She had a firm grip. “You must come with me,” she said. “Immediately.”
“Wait—hold on,” Andrew said, pulling back slightly. “Come with you where?”
“To the Queen.”
Andrew stared at her as she slowly moved him to the door. “The what?”
There was no patience left in her expression now—only urgency. “The Queen must see you at once.”
Ayla stepped forward slightly. “Is it safe?” she asked, her voice quieter now.
The older woman didn’t look at her. “It is necessary.”
Before Andrew could protest further, she was already guiding—no, pulling—him toward the door.
“Hey—wait,” he said, trying to keep up as his sore shoulder protested. “I don’t even have clothes—”
The door opened again. This time, the noise outside surged in immediately.
The gathered women hadn’t gone far. If anything, there were more of them now. And every single one of them turned the moment he stepped into view.
A murmur spread through the crowd as eyes dropped, then lifted again, widening.
Andrew became painfully aware of himself again: barefoot, in nothing but his boxers… and with a massive hard-on. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.
The higher sister didn’t slow, and Andrew had no choice but to follow.
To the Queen.