Go to work as the Queen of your planet

Ah yes. You might've neglected to mention that despite considering your life to be plain and boring, you are in fact the rightful ruler of the planet Kpau. As such, you are entitled to wondrous privileges, incredible riches and as many loyal servants as you please. However, you've sort of become jaded to the notion.

You unenter the private bedchamber of your sprawling royal palace into a foyer, where rows of husky serfs are awaiting in attendence. Your servants flock to meticulously prune and pamper you.

Sophie: "Hands off, and that's an order! I feel positively radiant today, and require no attention."

The horde of servants stops and backs off nearly instantly, accompanied by a wave of 'of course, Your Majesty's and 'Apologies, Your Majesty's. Gawd, you love the sound of groveling. The day's already begun so well, might as well have some more fun.

Sophie: "Actually, on second thought... I believe Your Majesty requires some 'protein supplements' for her fur."

Your servants know full and well what this entails. They quitely form a circle around you and slide off their pants. At their own pace, each begins to vigorously masturbate. You lay down on your back, paws and tail curled like a a sunbathing kitten.

Sophie: "C'mon now! First one to hit my mouth gets a freebie tonight..."

The thought of making with the Queen, a woman genetically engineered for perfection, is understandably a huge incentive. As such, the first pearly strings of cum emerge before you've properly even finished your sentence. And not even the tail-enders last for more than a few seconds. Soon you are covered in a thick layer of musky sludge. For once, you've got a clear idea on who won bragging rights for the next month or so.

You get up, still immersed from ears to toes in jizz, and pull at the collar of your winning feline.

Sophie: "What's your name, big boy?"

Jean: "It's... it's Jean, Your Highness."

Sophie: "Well, Jean... you'll have me all to yourself tonight. How's that sound?"

Jean: "W-wonderful, Your Highness. I hope not to disappoint Your Majesty."

Sophie: "You shant."

You lean in and whisper into his ear:

Sophie: "(That's an order.)"

You push him back, sending him stumbling a few steps, bewildered with arousal.

Sophie: "Jean, you're excused for now. As for the rest of you: I have a meeting to attend to. Do you expect me to appear there, reeking of the filthy cum of lowly servants?"

No more persuasion was needed for the two dozen of your servants to advance onto you and to lick you clean down to every slit, nook and hole. In a few short moments you are once again the spitting image of a dignified ruler.

You exit the antechamber and into the marbled hallway. You slam the door shut, leaning into it with a sigh of relief.

Sophie: "Ugh. I hate having to give my precious time to serfs. 'Hope not to disappoint Your Majesty' my ass! I should stop trying to be kinky and get a real harem instead of those hapless bozos. Buuut, it's not gonna happen. I just like being kinky too much."

You've still got that appointment that you woke up extra early for.