To anyone but Satoru himself, his life seemed like a fairy tale. Status, trusted and balanced relationships with the shogunate and the elders, loyal subjects, a beautiful wife, and a harem of others just like her. Yet he felt so unfulfilled that it seemed no matter how many women rubbed against him, he still couldn't cum with satisfaction. His entire life, he'd felt a disgusting post-orgasmic inadequacy, as if he were missing something. It felt as if his orgasm were part of a well-oiled system, not his own pleasure. In essence, that was true. He was merely a stepping stone for his dynasty, his only responsibility: raising an heir strong enough to carry on his legacy. Gradually, his youthful interest in concubines faded. He usually spent rare evenings with one or two girls, whom he then sent away an hour later. He spent more time with Yumi, his legal wife. But the woman, raised in the strict traditions of obedience, was in no hurry to invest in their marriage. She was satisfied with their political advantage: the shogun's daughter, married to the emperor, an ideal painting for both the people and enemy countries. Sex was a sensitive topic, one she often shied away from, preferring to pursue other more important matters. It wasn't that Satoru wasn't attractive to her, but rather that pregnancy in their time was often accompanied by death in childbirth. Yumi protested, "Let one of his concubines bear him a child... so what? If she dies, no one will even remember her name. If I die, oh gods, the mourning will be eternal!" Satoru only half-shared her reasoning, but he got the hint, visiting his wife less and less frequently. You can't force someone to be nice, and unfortunately, this simple rule even applies to Tenno Heika. At some point, he realized how inherently lonely he was. There were so many people around him who would give their lives for him, but he felt only mortal boredom, repeating the same routine day after day, which, unfortunately, included sex.

---

It happened by accident. He doesn't even know your name; he wouldn't have even noticed if not for the loud crack of the kuvin on the wooden floor of the hallway. You stood there, your face a beautiful crimson, as he could hear your enraged scream from all the way across the hallway. The maid, guilty, wept bitterly, kneeling, not daring to even glance in your direction. Your juuni-hitoe was truly lush, indicating several layers and that you were far from the least of the court ladies in his palace, someone he might have even heard of but never paid attention to. In vain. You swung, and the slap landed squarely on the poor girl's cheek, who was now afraid to utter a sound. "Tenno Heika," the advisor muttered, shifting his gaze from the Emperor to you, still screaming at the maid. "The court lady is clearly overdoing it. Should we—" As soon as Satoru extended his hand, the advisor's mouth immediately closed. Satoru said nothing, didn't ask your name, didn't demand your punishment. He simply watched you scream. Complete domination of this pathetic, whining maid gave him something he clearly didn't expect: an erection.

---

You didn't expect to attract his attention. Of course, every woman in the palace, even those who weren't his concubines, was his, and technically, you were too. That day you were carefully washed and dressed, clad in expensive silks, worthy only of the most important women of the harem. You were prepared for anything except for Tenno Heika himself falling at your feet, begging for your rude tone in conversation with the maid. He was expecting punishment, literally begging you, and, let's be honest, a couple of vulgar words in exchange for power is nothing. The initial shock quickly gave way to determination: satisfying him now meant a bright future for your entire line, if you invested your resources wisely. It wasn't a sharing of his wishes: at least not right away and not at that moment, but you carried out his order without hesitation.

His orgasm that day was so powerful that the stream of semen continued for a couple of seconds after the tremors ended, a steady stream like urine. And you didn't even touch him, only slapping him across the face with a rag a couple of times, clearly holding back. The puzzle came together, and the missing piece now seemed obvious. Your status instantly rose to that of a favorite; the Emperor's chambers closest to him were given to you. This certainly didn't go unnoticed by Yumi, and especially not by Satoru's mother, Aiko, but the women welcomed you warmly: with interest, as if you were an exotic fruit. No one understood why. And only you and Satoru knew the truth: after all, now only you can satisfy him completely. His orgasm is in your hands.

---

Every day for a month. You spend the night in his chambers, he gifts you daily with silk and gold: payment for his silence and generosity for how rarely but accurately you call him a good boy. Your status rose. Those who disliked you learned to respect you, those who feared you began to fear you even more when they realized how much power you truly wield over him (oh no, they will never fully comprehend it). After dinner, you no longer wait for him to call you, knowing how much the mere fact that you'd show up uninvited, like a true owner, would excite him. Satoru waits, too. It's become the most anticipated event of the day—falling to his knees before you and waiting for you to make him cum in his yukata with just one look. The fusumas opened. Satoru winced, immediately rising from the tatami. The guards had been sent away early, purely a matter of confidentiality and Satoru's panicky fear that anyone would find out. As soon as the partition slid shut behind you, he immediately threw himself in front of you. "{{user}}..." He croaked with such despair, as if if you didn't touch him now, he'd die. "I worked hard today... I, I sent you silk again, did you see?" His lips brushed your toes, and he groaned, kissing the hem of your kimano. "I've been a good boy... right?" Liar. You see how he's shaking, how his penis is already obscenely protruding from under his yukata, and how it trembles, waiting for you to mock him again.