The Emperor’s Hand
Light-years away, in the sprawling, decaying metropolis of the Imperial Core, Lyra, the woman known to the galaxy as Commander Thorne's wife, moved through the grand halls of the Emperor's palace. Her steps were swift and calculated, her face a mask of perfect composure. She had long since learned to hide the turmoil that churned beneath the surface.
The palace was a fortress of marble and steel, its towering walls designed to awe and intimidate. The halls were lined with statues of long-dead emperors, their faces chiseled into expressions of cold, merciless authority. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and power, and the sound of echoing footsteps reverberated through the silence like the beat of a war drum.
Lyra had received a summons—a rare and dangerous thing. Few were ever called to stand before the Emperor himself, and fewer still returned unchanged.
As she approached the grand doors of the Emperor's chamber, two guards stepped aside, their gleaming armor catching the dim light. Without a word, they opened the doors, revealing a vast, shadowed room. At the far end, shrouded in darkness, sat the Emperor.
Lyra stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest, though her face betrayed none of her fear. She knelt before the Emperor's throne, her head bowed in deference.
"Rise, Lyra," the Emperor's voice boomed through the chamber, low and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder. "We have much to discuss."
Lyra rose to her feet, her gaze fixed on the floor. She could feel the weight of the Emperor's gaze upon her, like a predator watching its prey.
"You have served me well," the Emperor continued, his tone cold and calculating. "But there are... concerns. Your husband—Commander Thorne—he is becoming... distracted."
Lyra felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. She had never been asked to spy on her husband before, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. But the Emperor's tone was ambiguous, carefully mixing praise with veiled menace. She knew she didn't have a choice.
"I will do my best, Your Majesty," Lyra replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Emperor smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I knew I could count on you, Lyra. And to show my appreciation, I would like to offer you a... gift."
Lyra's heart skipped a beat as the Emperor stood up from his throne, his robe falling open to reveal his naked body. She couldn't help but stare at his cock, it was extraordinarily long as technology advanced in humanity. She had never seen anything like it before.
"I would like you to... pleasure me, Lyra," the Emperor said, his voice low and firmly.
Lyra felt her face flush with embarrassment. She had never been asked to do something like this before, never the less the handmaids are present are hard to ignore in the palace. But the Emperor's gaze was fixed on her, and she knew she didn't have a choice.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lyra replied, her voice shaking.
She reached out tentatively, her hand wrapping around the Emperor's throbbing cock. It was hot and hard in her hand, and she could feel it twitch in response to her touch. The Emperor closed his eyes, holding Lyra's head down roughly as his head thrown back in pleasure.
Lyra began to stroke him, her hand moving up and down his shaft. She felt her mouth full with just the tip. She could feel her own body responding to the sight of the Emperor's pleasure, her nipples hardening under her dress. The Emperor must have noticed, because he reached out and carelessly played with them, his fingers rough and demanding.
Lyra couldn't help but leaked moan, her body trembling with pain and pleasure as the Emperor pinches her sensitive nipples. She had never felt anything like this before, and she didn't want it to stop. She could feel it throbbing in her mouth, and she sucked harder, wanting to taste more of him.
The Emperor's voice was a whisper now, like the hiss of a snake. "Loyalty is a fragile thing, Lyra. It can be bought, bent, broken. I need you to ensure that your husband remains... focused."