Long ago, in the ancient city-state of Lydia, there ruled a proud and beautiful queen named Omphale. She prided herself on her strength as a queen, and her beauty. And she knew that the most beautiful part of her body was her navel.
She was so enamored of the dimple in her stomach, that she gave herself the name Omphale, which meant “navel” in the local dialect. All her glorious regalia was designed to reveal her stomach, which was soft and fleshy, yet firm. She wanted her belly button to be seen by all. Omphale would often absently finger her navel, and even consciously sometimes. Every time her fingertip found the knot at the very end of her royal innie, she could feel a joyful tingling up and down her spine.
“By the gods,” she would breathe, “this is ecstasy!”
Often for special occasions, such as a royal banquet, Omphale would adorn her navel by inserting a large diamond into it, using a glue made of honey and wax to hold it in place. And when the day was over, the queen would choose one of her slave girls to pluck out the jewel, and then clean out her belly button. Omphale would always insist that the servant use her tongue to do the cleaning.
She found that some of her slaves were a little more reluctant to perform this chore, and Omphale found that it excited her that much more. How the queen loved pushing her slave’s head down to her stomach, and demanding of the girl, “Faster! Be faster with your tongue, or I’ll have you flogged!” The slave would obey her mistress, fluttering and twisting her tongue inside Omphale’s navel as the abdominal muscles twitched around it. And the queen lay back, grinning in rapture. She dreamed of offering her belly to the gods of Olympus, and welcoming the tongue of Zeus himself inside her navel.
One day, it was time for Omphale to buy some new slaves. She had the slave trader bring a new group of his human wares to her palace. As she sat on her throne, she saw them all standing in a line before her, young men and women. Omphale looked at the female slaves with a sense of satisfaction. They look good, she thought to herself. But why does this trader insist on bringing men with these women? I have never bought a male slave, and I have no intention on doing so. Omphale was descended from the Amazons, a proud race of female warriors, and consequently thought little of men. However, she would always humor the slave trader when he brought young men to sell. As she toyed with her navel absently with her little finger, she looked intently at the lips of the female slaves, and imagined them kissing her royal belly.
“Show me your tongues,” the queen commanded. All the slaves opened their mouths and let their tongues loll. Omphale looked on in satisfaction. She selected two slave girls with long, pointed tongues. I will enjoy those tongues wiggling in my belly’s sacred pit, Omphale thought to herself.
Then her eyes settled on one of the male slaves. This man was tall and muscular. Around his shoulders he wore the skin of a lion. Omphale had never before looked at male slaves much before. But she was intrigued by this giant of a man. There was definitely something about this one. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, and her belly button tingling.
She pressed her little finger deep inside in excitement, nearly spraining it. She pointed and said, “I must have that one!”
The huge slave Omphale bought, it turned out, was none other than Heracles, the strongest of all the world’s heroes. He had come to be sold as a slave after he was driven mad by Hera, and went on a murderous rampage. Zeus decreed that Heracles become a lowly slave to atone for his misdeeds. In the service of Omphale, he was made to perform the menial tasks that only women had henceforth done. His lot was to scrub the floors and spin thread to make the scanty clothing for his mistress. And he had to wear the tunic of the slave girl. Omphale had never owned a male slave before, and had no appropriate clothing for his gender. Besides, she felt a little pleasure watching this big man taking the dainty duties of a girl.
The queen herself took to wearing Heracles’ lion skin around the palace. She liked brushing the tip of the pelt’s tail inside her navel, enjoying the bristly tickle. Sometimes she even took the skin’s paws and lightly poked the tips of the claws into her belly knot. It never failed to bring an infectious giggle to Omphale’s lips.
One evening, Omphale hosted a wondrous royal banquet. She picked out a gorgeous ensemble to wear. She had a long flowing silk skirt of purple trimmed with gold lace, slung low on her hips. Her short bodice matched, stopping short of where her ribcage ended. She had one of her slave girls style her long dark hair with golden threads. Then, she lay back as she carefully let a large drop of her honey-wax mixture fall into her navel. She let out a tiny gasp as the drop hit the knot of her innie. Then, grasping her large diamond by the crown with her fingertips, she drove the point of the stone deep into her belly’s pit. She smiled broadly as a tiny tear escaped her eye. This was a chore she never relegated to any slave. She could only experience this kind of umbilical pleasure as she applied it herself.
At the end of the night, Omphale was reeling. The banquet was, in her opinion, a success. Her bejeweled navel was the center of attention all evening. She could feel the eyes of all her royal guests drawn to the diamond adorning her beloved midriff, as the light beamed off it. But the party was over now, and it was time to cap it all off. She looked for a slave girl to clean her navel, but found none available. The only servant she could find was Heracles. She figured, he’ll have to do. He wasn’t very smart, but he was very gorgeous to look at. She’d even thought about having his lips on her belly occasionally. Omphale called out to Heracles, “Slave! Come here!”
He dutifully came before the queen. “Yes, my mistress?”
Omphale lay down on a black marble bench, arching her back, raising her bejeweled belly. “Remove my diamond!” she commanded.
Heracles made a small bow and grabbed at the diamond in the center of Omphale’s stomach. His sinewy fingers dug in around the stone, pressing the delicate rim of her navel. “Be careful!” Omphale gasped. He handled this chore rather roughly, certainly not like the female slaves who had done this task before. Heracles plucked the diamond from her belly, startling her with the small damp popping sound it made as it was torn out. Omphale felt a small sensation that the knot of her navel was being pulled out. She momentarily feared that her beloved innie would become an outie. She was a little cross at the strong man, but at the same time felt some tittilation.
Omphale breathed heavily for a second, then commanded, “Now...clean my navel.”
Heracles bowed again. Placing the diamond on a small stone table at the head of the bench, he extended his thick right index finger toward Omphale’s quivering stomach. She started to object, “No...!” But she suddenly felt the sensation of Heracles’ finger deeply probing her navel.
He roughly twisted Omphale’s belly button around, nearly tearing its knot loose from her stomach muscles. Her eyes grew wide as she felt the tugging of her belly knot. The familiar tingling sensation was strong as it traveled up and down Omphale’s spine, even spreading to the skin. Her heart beat faster and faster, and she broke out into a cold sweat.
“No!...Stop!...Not!...like!...that!” she managed to breathlessly shout. “Use!...your!...tongue!” He stopped his probing. Omphale perspired as she caught her breath. She looked down at his huge fingertip still stuck in her navel. If he stretches it out of shape, she thought to herself, I shall be furious!
Heracles shrugged and removed his finger. The sticky residue remaining in Omphale’s navel made a soft noise that resembled a kiss to her ears as the hero’s finger was plucked away.
Then he leaned over Omphale’s stomach, extending his large tongue. She felt a surge of excitement, anticipating her muscular slave’s tongue in her belly. She could feel her pulse starting to race.
Suddenly, Omphale again felt the sensation of her sacred navel being harshly probed, but this time with Heracles’ strong tongue. She felt her belly knot being stretched and twisted around, with a warm, wet force driving down to the very center. She writhed on the marble bench, arching her back with ecstasy. This was a feeling Omphale had never experienced! All her slave girls had done this task more gently by comparison. But now she felt new pleasures in little areas of her navel she never even knew were there!
As for Heracles, he dutifully licked the dimple of his mistress’ stomach. As his mighty tongue explored the tiny folds within, he could feel himself getting aroused. He had certainly never done this with a woman before, let alone a queen. Before he knew it, something stirred beneath the skirt of his handmaiden’s costume.
Omphale was squealing, “Yes! Oh, by the gods, don’t stop!” She was fast approaching her climax. And Heracles was well on his way also. His excitement had raised up under his skirt, and was now pressing against the marble bench’s edge. The stone was cold, but it did nothing to reduce the strong man’s excitement.
Finally, Omphale screamed in joy, having started to orgasm. Meanwhile, Heracles was letting abandon get the better of him. And it was times like this that he tended to get carried away. He was done licking the queen’s navel, and had started to suck on it. Omphale’s eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the large hot tongue delving deep inside her belly, and the great lips drawing the rim of her navel out.
Suddenly, Heracles felt something be drawn into his mouth. He figured out that it must be the knot of his mistress’s belly button. Omphale would have been shocked to know that her beloved innie had become an outie, but in her state of frantic pleasure, she did not notice. Heracles nibbled at the soft knot, and rolled his tongue over it. He went on faster and faster, until he could no longer hold his climax back. Finally, the mighty hero felt himself exploding beneath his handmaiden’s skirt.
Heracles got up, sweat falling off his face. He looked down at Omphale, lying on her marble bench. Her breast was heaving, and her whole body glistened with sweat in the moonlight. His eyes were drawn to the knob of queen’s navel, which was still sticking out, and twitching in time with her heavy breathing. Between breaths, Omphale quietly praised Zeus and Aphrodite, and a number of other gods. Silently, Heracles bowed to the prostrate queen, and took his leave to change out of his skirt.
When Omphale came down from her ecstatic high, she looked down at her heaving belly. She saw the small knob of her former innie sticking up from her flat stomach. Omphale was surprised, but not despairing over her beloved navel being disfigured. Her tingling orgasm had tempered her feelings over this new transformation. With a trembling index finger, she touched the throbbing knot. It was slick to her touch from her slave’s intense session of licking and sucking. Omphale lightly pressed the knob down into her stomach, returning her navel to its original shape. She then drifted off to sleep, her finger still inside the restored innie and a satisfied smile on her face. Many times she had dreamed of her navel receiving the attentions of Zeus.
That night, she felt she had finally experienced that pleasure.
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