Gilgamesh's lip curls when you cheerfully greet him in the corridor. "That is not how you greet a king. You greet a king with respect ." He looks you over. "And you clearly need to learn respect. I must teach you."

He snaps his fingers and chains shoot out from the Gate of Babylon to wrap around your arms and legs, holding you against the corridor wall. Indignantly you struggle, and the chains, far warmer than ordinary metal, slither as they adjust to you.

The King takes your chin in his hand, turning your head this way and that before running his thumb over your lips. Your struggles fade as mild surprise becomes shock. The Gilgamesh you remember would have scorned to even touch you. His ruby eyes glint as you catch your breath. "Too late now, mongrel." He pushes his thumb between your lips. "You're lucky you amuse me sometimes or I'd simply kill you."

You taste his salty-sweet skin briefly, before he pulls away. With a motion so swift you don't see it, he pulls your top open, revealing your bra.

"Disrespectful," he mutters, and a tiny blade slices through the band. You stare, amazed, at his golden eyelashes and the lean planes of his face as he studies your body. Is this really happening?

Then he slides his hands over your freed breasts, and you are definitely not in Kansas anymore. His hands are warm and smooth as they caress your soft skin and you're suddenly keenly aware of the coolness of the air where he isn't touching you. He holds each globe in a hand, as if weighing them, and then nods to himself. When your nipples stiffen in response to his study, he almost smiles, before catching one between his teeth. His tongue flicks over it, tasting it as you tasted his thumb. After that, he switches to the other one, while drawing circles over the first with his fingers.

You bite your lip, suppressing a whimper of pleasure and need. He releases you, flattening both your breasts with his palms as he stares down into your eyes, his own snapping with displeasure. "Did I not say I would teach you to respect your King?"

You open your mouth to argue with him and he steals your words by kissing you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and dominating your own. As he does, the chains, warm and smooth, slide across your chest, moving erotically over the tips of your breasts. A hot ache grows between your legs and you squirm against Gilgamesh's thigh as he presses it against you.

Finally, he releases your mouth. "Give me only your cries of respect, mongrel. We will show you what a pitiful thing your self-control is." You're too dazed to respond, which doesn't seem to surprise him.

He again studies your body as his hands stroke down your torso. Under your skirt, his exploring hands encounter your panties and his face darkens once more. Then his eyes flash and your panties are gone. (You never find them again.) He slides his palm against your mound and probes your slick core.

Meanwhile, those chains across your breasts have never really stopped moving, and the way they drag against your nipples is almost maddening. Gilgamesh withdraws two wet fingers from inside you. "You see, your body knows respect. Learn to listen to it."

Then he smears your juices across your clit and you nearly orgasm on the spot—but not quite, not until the chains tighten as your body does, and teeth nip your ear, tearing the orgasm from you. You throw your head back, gasping and twitching, as pleasure radiates from your core outward. Only as the moment of bliss fades then do you realize that it is Enkidu who holds you splayed open for his friend, rolling your nipples between his fingers as he presses you against his chest. "I want to play too, Gil."

A light touches the King's crimson eyes, but he says sternly, "This is not playtime. We are teaching this mongrel an important lesson about respect."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," mutters Enkidu, his breath tickling your ear. His fingers have never stopped teasing you, while Gilgamesh continues to stroke your clit like he's absently petting a cat. The overlapping bolts of pleasure make thinking impossible. "Whatever. I'm going to help."

Something moves against your inner thigh and what you thought was another loop of chain is not. It presses, hot and hard, against your hole—and then, with a shifting of his grip, Enkidu pushes his cock deep inside you. Your juices coat his thickness as he moves within you and you groan softly as you feel every inch of him.

"Mmm. You sure you don't want some of this, Gil?" Enkidu's voice sounds dreamy.

The King waved his free hand (his other hand is still fondling you). "Why would I reward the insolence of a mongrel by sullying myself thus?"

Enkidu shifts you forward, just a little, moving even deeper inside you, and a spasm of sensation makes your whole body tremble. "Well, good, because I honestly don't know that I want to share right now."

Gilgamesh smiles. "If you at least enjoy yourself, I will know this session wasn't an entire waste. Meanwhile, I shall return to my work."

Apparently, 'work' translates into Gilgamesh kissing you more as Enkidu thrusts, while keeping his hand busy down below. Together the two heroes work you over until each deep stroke of Enkidu's shaft against the rim of your hole is a white hot explosion of pleasure. His cock seems to get bigger and bigger, as his breath rasps in your ear and he shoves himself almost frantically against you.

But Gilgamesh never loses his meticulous, patterned approach. His tongue twines around yours before relentlessly pushing it down, showing you your place. Then he moves to your neck and shoulder, leaving clear marks behind. If you could think, you'd definitely be developing ideas on what he likes—but you can't think, because the two of them together are fucking your brains out in the public hallway. Your whimpers and whines and yelps echo down the corridor, punctuating the the rhythm of Enkidu's pounding and Gilgamesh's occasional sounds of disapproval.

By the time you hear Enkidu speaks again, you feel like nothing more than a jelly dedicated to conducting bolts of pleasure. "I don't think she's going to scream before she passes out, Gil."

Gilgamesh lifts his head from the breast he'd been suckling and regards you with a critical eye. "Tch. You might be right. Stubborn mongrel. Perhaps with more training."

He rubs his thumb one last time across the softness of your breast. Then he steps back, gesturing. Enkidu withdraws from you and sets you on your feet, smoothing down your skirt neatly and closing your top back up. Like magic, from the outside everything about you looks almost normal.

As soon as Enkidu releases you, you stagger, exhausted and distantly aching. Your mind is still mostly the sparkling lights of the nonstop orgasm you just had. If the King is expecting something from you now, you have no idea what it is.

But Gilgamesh smiles indulgently as you rebound drunkenly off a wall. "If you've learned anything today, try being respectful next time we meet. Perhaps I'll have a reward for you. If not…" He laughs to himself.

Then, with a nod at Enkidu, he continues his stroll with his friend without giving you a single backward look.