The four Queens of Levaria were untouchable. Literally. As vessels of the Gods, they had to remain completely and utterly pure if they wanted to keep their magical blessings. Which, while extremely unpractical, was a fair exchange for the unquestioned supremacy of the Queendom.
Fortunately, the Gods were good and allowed for a convenient workaround. A simple exception for each of the Queens, a human vessel to be carefully chosen. Somebody destined to become her most trusted servant, her protector, her confidant, her unwavering support. The human destined to shoulder all she could not. You. Her whipping boy.
As Queen Miriam's vessel, it is up to you to pay the scot of her recklessness. You are the one to bend in front of outraged tutors and high priestesses, to have your tights and bottom caned and bruised. You spill the blood of her enemies whenever she asks you to, and fall on your knees to choke on the dick of her most precious allies. You guard the door as she flirts with foreign princesses, knights and servants alike, and let them rut violently in your tight hole, as they uselessly, desperately, proclaim their love for your cold, cruel Queen.
It is a hard job. Still, you feel blessed. You don't mind the pain, nor the long hours of work, the cage strangling your manhood, nor your inexistent freedom. You endure and you do it gladly.
Because, at the end of the day, you are the one - the only one - allowed to know the soft touch of her fingers, the pallor of her skin, the sounds of her heartbeat as you cradled against her chest, the sweet taste of her cunt. The only one to know the touch of a Goddess.