Circlet of Submission Vol 2: Harem Adventures
Neil’s New Reign?
Neil leaned back in the mansion’s dining room, the polished mahogany table gleaming under the morning sun filtering through the glass walls. The circlet rested in his palm, its silver warm, pulsing with a quiet energy that made his skin tingle. He’d reclaimed it from Christian, and with it, his control—his throne. The weight of the past month, the humiliation of Christian’s betrayal, dissolved in the face of this power. Holding it, he felt invincible, like a king with a scepter that bent wills. Breakfast was laid out—bacon sizzling, eggs fluffy, coffee’s rich bite filling the air—but his focus was on the three women across from him: Denise, Chloe, and Amelia, chatting over their plates, unaware of what was brewing in his mind.
Denise, in a loose white tee that hugged her raindrop curves, laughed at something Chloe said, her dark hair catching the light. Chloe, red tank top straining over her massive, circlet-sculpted tits, smirked as she speared a piece of fruit, her green eyes sharp with her usual cunning. Amelia, blonde hair loose, tank top tight against her growing curves, sipped coffee, her eyes darting to Neil with a mix of adoration and hunger. They were his—bound by the circlet’s past, their loyalty sealed through submission and sex—but now, something new stirred. The circlet whispered, its power humming, it whispered he didn’t need to place it on them anymore. He could project it, bend their minds as if they wore it, as long as he held the circlet and they were fully his. And these three? They were his, body and soul.
“Alright, ladies,” Neil said, voice casual but edged with command, twirling the circlet like a coin. “Let’s try something.” He focused, gripping the circlet tighter, willing its power outward, targeting the trio. A faint warmth spread from his hand, invisible tendrils reaching across the table, sinking into them. The effect was instant.
Denise’s fork froze mid-air, her breath catching, eyes widening as a flush crept up her neck. Her nipples hardened, pressing through her tee, and she shifted in her seat, thighs squeezing together. “Neil—fuck,” she gasped, voice thick, her body trembling as if the circlet sat on her head, drowning her in submissive bliss. Chloe’s smirk vanished, her green eyes glazing, a soft moan escaping as her massive tits seemed to swell slightly, straining her tank top further, her pussy slick and aching. She gripped the table, nails digging in, staring at Neil with fervent adoration. Amelia dropped her coffee mug, the clink loud, her hands flying to her chest as her breasts tingled, her lips parting in a whimper. “Master,” she breathed, her voice a plea, her shorts dampening as her body surrendered.
Neil grinned, cock twitching in his jeans, the power intoxicating. They were his puppets, wet and pliant, their eyes locked on him like he was a god. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he drawled, leaning forward, the circlet glinting. He focused on Amelia, her earnest devotion calling to him. “Let’s test it. Amelia—your tits will grow one cup size bigger. Now.”
Amelia gasped, arching her back as the circlet’s power surged through Neil’s will. Her tank top stretched, her breasts swelling visibly—rounder, fuller, jumping from generous to eye-catching, nipples hard against the fabric. She moaned, hands cupping them, eyes fluttering with pleasure, the growth sparking waves of arousal. “Oh—master, thank you,” she whimpered, gazing at him with worshipful gratitude, her pussy throbbing, soaking her shorts.
Denise’s eyes flicked to Amelia, a mix of envy and arousal, but her own body trembled under Neil’s projected power, her tee clinging to her curves as she squirmed, desperate for his touch. Chloe, panting, tried to speak, her cunning drowned in need. “Neil—fuck, how’re you doing this?” she managed, her voice slurred, tits bouncing with each shaky breath.
Neil chuckled, leaning back, the circlet warm in his hand. “It’s mine now—really mine. I don’t need to put it on you. You’re all so fucking devoted, it just… flows.” He let the power pulse again, watching them writhe, their moans harmonizing, their loyalty absolute. His cock hardened, tenting his jeans, but he held back, savoring the control. He was over Christian’s pathetic reign—Neil was master again, not a paranoid wreck.
The dining room door swung open, and Brandon strode in, his massive frame filling the space—black tank straining over slabbed pecs, thighs bulging in gym shorts, hazel eyes sharp. Fresh from a morning lift, sweat glistened on his tanned skin, his dark hair tousled. He paused, eyeing the scene—three women flushed, panting, staring at Neil like he hung the moon. “Oi, what’s this? Breakfast or a bloody orgy?” he rumbled, grabbing a coffee mug, his voice light but carrying that quiet strength.
Neil’s grin widened, confidence surging. Brandon was his mate, loyal to a fault, but Neil wanted to test the circlet’s reach. Could he project it onto him, too? He gripped the silver band, focusing, willing the power toward Brandon. “Let’s see how you like it, mate,” he muttered under his breath, pushing the circlet’s energy, envisioning Brandon softening, adoring, pliant like the girls.
Nothing. The power hit a wall, fizzling against Brandon’s broad frame. No glaze in his eyes, no hitch in his breath—just a raised brow as he sipped his coffee, unfazed. Neil frowned, gripping tighter, pushing harder, willing Brandon to feel it—submission, bliss, devotion. Instead, a strange pull tugged at Neil’s core, his knees weakening, a sudden urge to drop, to kneel, to worship Brandon. His cock throbbed, memories of gym sessions flashing, the haze of submission, the bliss of letting go of control. His breath hitched, legs trembling, the circlet’s power turning inward, amplifying his own buried need to submit.
“Fuck,” Neil gasped, breaking the connection, the circlet’s hum quieting as he released the focus. His heart raced, sweat beading on his brow, but he forced a grin, masking the slip. “Just messing about, Bran. Testing the new powers.”
Brandon’s hazel eyes narrowed, a knowing glint flickering, but he shrugged, leaning against the counter. “Careful, mate. That thing’s a double edged sword—don’t get cut,” his grin obscured as he sipped his coffee. His tone was easy, but the weight of his words lingered, a subtle challenge. He knew something—maybe not the full extent, but enough to make Neil’s gut twist.
Neil laughed, steadying himself, shoving the submissive urge down. “Back in the driver’s seat, mate. Christian’s done, and I’m running the show now.” He stood, pocketing the circlet, its warmth a reminder of his power—and its limits. Brandon was untouchable, a rock he couldn’t bend, stirring a mix of respect and unease. But the girls? They were his, pliant and perfect. Brandon would still wear the circlet if he demanded it, he’d need to if he was going to maintain that physique, that was enough.
“Breakfast’s getting cold,” Neil said, voice firm, redirecting the room. “Eat up, ladies. We’ve got a big day in the hottub.” He shot Brandon a look—half cocky, half wary—as the girls eagerly obeyed.