The Queen and the Lion - Chapter 14
After being kicked for disobeying Lysian during their second encounter, Aslan became considerably more obedient, following her every command. It wasn’t that his pride wasn’t hurt by taking orders from an eighteen-year-old. However, he never wanted to experience being left with a hard-on again. It had been awful. He’d begged pitifully and only managed to get permission to m********e, but with Lysian’s enticing body right in front of him, self-satisfaction wasn’t enough.
He’d realized from their few encounters that Lysian had rather rough tastes. Kicking him for disobeying her was just one example of her unusual preferences. And they didn’t stop there. As he carried her naked around the room, Aslan sighed. What kind of life was this? If Aslan seemed distracted, Lysian would smack his bottom with a whip. Aslan, who had experienced the sting of a real whip, found this only mildly unpleasant, but it was certainly rougher and stranger than the typical queen’s play.
“It feels like I’m riding a real lion,” Lysian exclaimed excitedly. “As a queen, you should be able to ride a real lion,” Aslan replied dryly. He had already circled the room five times. He was well aware that he was being treated less than human. Even though the queen was light, Aslan, with his strength, was carrying her around this large room five times. Any Florean would have been sweating profusely and their legs would have given out by now.
Lysian laughed loudly at his comment. “A lion? Don’t be ridiculous. They say horses are dangerous, so how could anyone let you ride a lion?”
Aslan was surprised to hear that Lysian couldn’t ride a horse. In Heivan, those who couldn’t ride were considered worthless, regardless of gender. It was even said that a king could be chosen by his horsemanship.
Lysian abruptly stood up from Aslan’s back. She then grabbed his neck, and understanding her intent, Aslan obediently stood up. Leaning against the headboard, Lysian began to speak softly.
“When I was young, I had a playmate.”
As he listened to Lysian, Aslan began to undress her. He enjoyed the process of undressing her, one layer at a time, as if he were plucking petals from a flower.
Lysian continued, her voice soft as she rested in Aslan’s hands. “His father sometimes played a game where he would pretend to be a horse. He asked me if I had ever ridden one.”
Lysian’s pink eyelashes fluttered, casting shadows over her eyes. Her violet eyes seemed to gaze into the distance, lost in reminiscence. Aslan desperately wanted to kiss her eyelids, but he held back. Past experiences had taught him that any unauthorized action would be taken away from him.
Lysian reached out to Aslan. Leaning against his large frame, she gently pulled his head towards her b*****s and stroked his hair.
Aslan breathed in the scent of her skin. Unable to resist, he nuzzled her b*****s, inhaling her scent deeply. She seemed to allow it.
“I never had the chance,” she said. “So, I immediately asked the previous king to give me a ride. He readily agreed, but he wasn’t very physically fit. He was a scholar who spent most of his time studying astronomy. He tried his best to play with me, but he fell ill the next day.”
Lysian chuckled softly, remembering the incident. The previous king was not a very healthy man. It was said that there had been strong opposition when the previous queen married him, questioning his ability to produce an heir.”
