The Clown's Harem

The figure rose to their feet and glided over towards the chair opposite the Clown.

Is that hesitation I can sense in their movement?

He was not sure. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

The figure sat, and eventually the clouds dispersed from her body.

He had been expecting the same woman as before. The one dressed in noble, Russian-inspired clothing, the one with confidence and that irritatingly smug expression she wore on her face, the same woman who had spoken to him without an ounce of fear in her voice.

However, the woman seated before him now almost seemed like an entirely different person.

Her blonde hair, once styled beautifully, was now simply unkempt. The makeup that had once framed her features was gone, washed clean, leaving behind a face that looked younger... and far more vulnerable.

And her clothes...

Has she been made a prisoner?

She wore little more than brown rags, the fabric rough and poorly fitted, hanging loosely from her frame. Around her wrists were angry red marks, as though chains had only recently been removed. Faint marks lingered on her ankles as well.

Her eyes were filled with tears.

As soon as she appeared in the tent, she looked down at her hands and ankles.

"Free... I am free..."

The words came out as though she couldn’t believe herself.

Then, she glanced over at the Clown.

And in that instant, embarrassment took over her. Under his silent, unreadable stare, she seemed suddenly aware of everything.

Her appearance, her state, the contrast of what she had been before to what she was now.

Solomon said nothing.

He had many questions he wanted to ask her. It wasn’t every day that somebody went from being a noble to a prisoner over the span of a few hours. However, they could wait.

The woman had prayed to him, so she would be the one to initiate.

After all, he was the God.

Eventually, the woman spoke. Or, for better words, pleaded.

"Mister... Clown," she began, her voice trembling despite her attempt to steady it. "I know that I spoke to you disrespectfully before, but I have come to ask for your help."

She swallowed, her throat tightening before she continued.

"I will do anything in return. Anything!"

Solomon laughed inwardly.

Anything? Well, there are a few things I can think of.

Instead, he said nothing. If she had a request, she could announce it verbally. Only then could he decide whether or not it was worth it to take the woman seriously.

She looked down at her rags and continued.

"I have been imprisoned for failing my mission."

Imprisoned? I thought you were the king’s lover... Perhaps it is a one-sided romance?

"The King wanted me to... No, I cannot say! It would be a betrayal. Just know that I spoke to you in ways that the King did not want me to speak to you in. I have always had a loose tongue, and now I am being punished for it. I need your help, Clown. You are the only God who brings others into their domain. Can’t you save me?"

"..."

Solomon let the words hang in the air for a few moments for dramatic effect. Meanwhile, he was in disbelief that the woman would dare ask him such a thing.

What does she mean by that anyway? Is the king angry that she spoke to me disrespectfully?

Is King Calvin XXXII secretly a man who desires to worship the God of Information, otherwise known as the Clown?!

He laughed at his humour, then turned his attention back to the woman.

"Give me one reason that I should help you," was all he asked.

The woman bit down on her lip, hesitating before giving her answer.

Then, she began to pull down the collar of her prisoner garb until the generous breastline of her bust was revealed.

Her cheeks blushed bright red.

"Because the King says it himself. Even gods can be tempted by women."

Solomon’s eyes widened as he looked down at the woman’s breasts. Indeed, they were large, now that he could see her out of her fancy dress. Her nipples were erect and peeked through the fabric, most likely due to the temperature.

The woman cupped her breasts in both hands and squeezed them slightly. The fat moulded between her fingers. The fabric of her rags rustled around them. Her skin blushed red from the lewd act.

Meanwhile, Solomon watched with an uncaring expression on his face.

It was an act. In truth, his body told him to ravage her right there.

Only a fool would turn down a woman’s body when it was being offered to him.

But Solomon was a fool. Solomon was a clown.

He sighed and waved a hand dismissively.

"I do not want your body. Do you truly think that the gods are so shallow?"

Immediately, the woman was filled with embarrassment like she had never felt before. She could not believe what had just happened.

The king was wrong! He had told her that if she offered herself, even the gods would fall in lust.

Didn’t that mean that his word was not absolute, as she once thought it was?

She did not want to dwell on what the implications of such a thought were.

She fixed her rags so that her breasts were covered once again and looked down at the pink cloudy floor.

"So... what do you want from me?" she asked, hoping that there was at least something she could offer the Clown to earn his help.

Solomon rubbed his chin and thought for a moment.

Then he answered.

"Why did you not call on Calvenus, God of Creativity, for help?" he then asked.

The woman shook her head.

"Calvenus would never help me. Not when it was King Calvin himself who imprisoned me. Everybody knows that the God of Creativity has granted his blessing to the monarchy," she explained.

That was when a plan began to form in Solomon’s mind. He allowed a smirk to spread across his face.

"How many prisoners are there with you in the cells?"

"Umm, perhaps twenty women. All those who await execution are placed in the same cell, as there is no need to worry about us murdering each other."

Perfect.

"Have all the women in the cell pray to me tonight, but do not get caught by the guards. Afterwards, I will consider your request."