“…I’m sorry.”
Slowly pushing the Queen’s shoulders back, Blaine met her gaze with an apologetic yet resolute look. His eyes held a firm determination that allowed not even a sliver of room for argument. No persuasion, pleading, or threats would work on a resolve as fortified as a stone wall.
The Queen stared at him blankly, endlessly, her expression that of someone freshly heartbroken or having just lost something precious. The sight made Blaine’s heart ache. He slowly lowered himself onto one knee and took the Queen’s hand.
“But please don’t misunderstand. It isn’t that I don’t respect you, Your Majesty, never—”
“Respect, my ass. You’re talking because your mouth’s open.”
…?
For a moment, Blaine wondered if he’d heard some strange noise instead of the Queen’s actual words. Wearing a flustered, apologetic expression, he signaled that he must have misheard.
“I pampered you because your face is decent and your body’s nice, and now you don’t know your place? Spoiled you a little, and look at you, getting full of yourself?”
“…Pardon?”
“There’s no creature above you, is there?”
The Queen—who had always seemed so delicate, like she might blow away with the wind or topple over if nudged—approached with a vicious expression, and Blaine instinctively backed away. He could see her painted brows arch upward.
“Ha. So now you’re ignoring your monarch and doing whatever you want?”
“Um, Y-Your Majesty, I must be ignorant, because I’m not following well…”
“Whether you’re stupid or smart isn’t my concern. I just need your body, understood?”
His body? True, he had pledged his entire being to the Queen, to devote himself and protect her with his life—but something about her tone was completely wrong. That wasn’t what she meant. Blaine, forgetting all notions of propriety, retreated farther and farther away.
“Mm? Let’s sleep together. I don’t need anything else.”
“N-Now is not the time for sleep… we—we have to escape quickly…”
“Acting like you don’t understand is cute only the first couple of times.”
Before, Blaine truly wouldn’t have known what the hell she was talking about—he would’ve stood there slack-jawed, clueless. But now? Blaine had been bitten, sucked, pierced—he wasn’t naive anymore.
His face turned pale as he quietly tried to slip away, wondering if he should abandon all duty as a soldier and simply run for his life. That was when…
“Gah!”
Where in that tiny frame she hid such strength, Blaine couldn’t guess. The Queen grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him, tossing him like a rag. He’d been caught off guard, sure—but even so, getting hauled so easily? He landed on a bed and stared up at the ceiling, mouth wide open. Cracked as it was, crumbs falling from the seams, it seemed she had at least given him the nicest room available.
Now that he noticed, the bed was wide and comfortable.
Did the wasps usually treat royal hostages this well?
“W-Wait, what are you doing!”
“Your mouth’s unnecessary. Keep it shut. Now pull this out.”
“Let go—Your Majesty!”
His pants flew off in the blink of an eye. Blaine was too stunned to even react. While he stiffened in shock, the Queen’s small, soft hand slipped boldly between his thick thighs.
“Ughk!”
“Haa, as expected—magnificent. The length, the thickness… top-class.”
The situation was spiraling in a direction Blaine couldn’t even process, let alone counter. The hand sliding into his groin was soft, velvety, not a hint of coarseness. And it moved up and down without hesitation—skilled, practiced. This was no ordinary touch.
“No, no—p-please, step back! Why are you doing this now—”
“Stop whining and relax.”
“I-I can’t possibly relax!”
“Ohhh, you want me to suck it? Hold on. Once it’s in my mouth, even drones roll their eyes back and cry. Think you can handle that?”
This wasn’t a matter of whether he could handle it—he didn’t want to. Why should he suffer this humiliation? Blaine’s chest tightened; he raised his hands as if to push her away, but they trembled uselessly in the air. He couldn’t bring himself to put his hands on his monarch.
“P-Please… just stop… I beg you…”
“God, you’re loud. Shut that mouth, won’t you?”
“Please, Your Majesty… I’m a worker bee. This isn’t allowed… please…!”
“If I’d known you’d be this picky, I wouldn’t have bothered treating you kindly. I should’ve just forced you, left you crippled in some way, and tossed you out.”
It felt like being struck in the back of the head with Panthiana’s hammer. The sheer verbal brutality left Blaine’s mind blank. While he stiffened, unable to move, the Queen spat into her palm and began stroking his shaft with practiced ease.
“Blaine, this…”
“What… what is this, Your Majesty?”
“This is only for you. Eat it secretly when no other bees are around, understood?”
He remembered the small, beautiful Queen who used to slip him precious slivers of ginseng honey with those tiny, adorable hands, press a soft, feathery kiss to his cheek, and scamper away. He could never believe that was a lie. If anything was false, it was the current version of her. She must’ve been mentally affected from being in the wasps’ hands for so long.
“Y-You need to come to your senses…! H-Hngh!”
But his desperate plea meant nothing. The Queen tightened her grip, blocking any escape, then tormented the dipped ridge with her nails and fingertips. The lopsided smirk she’d worn—a sharp, sinister smile—slowly, gradually wavered. Soon, her expression twisted into confusion.
“What? Why isn’t this reacting?”
Even with the refined hands of a Queen who had handled over ten drones, Blaine’s center remained utterly calm, as though nothing at all were happening. No matter how urgently she moved her hand, Blaine only whimpered and tried to push her shoulders away. Nothing else happened.
“Hup!”
“Ughk!”
In frustration, the Queen opened her small mouth and took his tip inside.
“D-Don’t—hnn—don’t! S-Stop it!”
“Mmgh rrghh? Wha?”
“A Queen and a worker bee—this kind of—this improper relationship is forbidden! Please regain your reason!”
Perhaps his earnest plea finally reached her, because the Queen spat the tip out of her mouth. Blaine’s face brightened as he scooted backward on his rear, inch by inch.
But then her grip tightened again, and he cried out as he toppled over.
“H-Haha… no… no, this can’t… I spent years investing in this—just to taste this one thing…”
“It—ngh—hurts… P-Please…”
“No. No, it can’t be. Fuck. This can’t be happening.”
There wasn’t even time to feel fear. The place most sensitive to pain felt twisted, ready to burst apart. Tears welled in his eyes from the sheer physiological shock, and his face flushed crimson.
“Goddammit. Blaine—don’t tell me you’re impotent?!”
“It hurts—it—what…?”
“W-With a cock that massive—why can’t you get hard?! If you can’t use it, why the hell do you even have it?!”
What kind of insane situation was this?
Do you think all that stamina-honey I fed you was free? Do you think I brewed every tonic myself just so you could waste it?
The Queen shrieked, hysterical, as though ready to tear out her own radiant golden hair, and Blaine felt genuine terror. A completely different terror from the time he’d stood before a perfect predator like Hurel.
“You useless eunuch! I should rip this worthless thing right off!”
“Wha—No! No, don’t—uwaaaah! I’m not sexually broken!”
That instinctive, desperate truth spilled out of Blaine before he could stop himself. His mind snapped back into place a moment later, and he clamped his mouth shut.
But being accused of impotence—something so contrary to reality—naturally triggered an automatic, visceral reaction. He couldn’t help it.
