Princess-In-Silk-Chains
Planetoid
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2021
What's a mob to a king? What's a king to a God? What's a God to a non-believer?
What can I do for you?
- Will reply at least once every 9 days, but hope to do multiple daily as schedule allows.
- Busty gal against beefy buff partner. I now have commissioned a few images of my exact character face-claim which is this, I have other images of her I like better, but that's the one I am comfy sharing publicly)
- Eagerness to plot out something fun for both of our enjoyment. Open communication is key.
- Lover of details, both the fantastical, and perverted kind. Always love to paint a vividly romantic lustful, picture.
- F-List (The 'Fave's, except for kemonomimi, Master x Pet, and bondage , are must-haves, Please at least read the fave's section before messaging me, the 'No's' are non-negotiable, while everything else we can pick and choose as we both like)
What will you do for me?
- Looking for monogamous D/s romance with MC as the sub, specifically against a affectionate but commanding personality type, as I am desiring dub-con if not even non-con, I want it from the more possessive angle with a twisted sort of love there or able to grow, just, some sort of affection, even if strange or dark, from the very start, as opposed to harsh type where MC's well being is not remotely considered which is not what I want, though roughness to a certain extent is welcome.
- Paste tense third person writing style only. I usually do about 3 para or more, and hoping for someone who can do quality posts of at least 2 meaty para each time. (My personal comfort zone for posts is usually between 300-800 words, except for openers and the occasional outlier due to inspiration)
- Detailed clitoral stimulation description to be included if MC is expected to orgasm within a scene.
THE PREMISE
(When bumping this thread specifically, this is the only plot I am looking for)
(When bumping this thread specifically, this is the only plot I am looking for)
In this world, there are three types of beings in any given species (perhaps there are some races, like dwarves and elves and such, that do not have this, just so the world can function with a bit more ease) but regardless, there are the 'Deity' types, 'Apostle', and finally, the 'Devoted'
So named as, even for those not religious, it is believed the gods divined such a natural hierarchy.
Deity have a naturally commanding presence, and, when speaking to an Apostle, if they be willing, they will feel the rush of pleasure when receiving a command, and when speaking to a Devoted, they will also receive such a reaction, though, regardless of if the will it.
Apostle can choose to worship at a Deity's feet, or, can shepherd and mold the flock, while Devoted are expected to do only that, be devoted as their body commands them when one of the other two use the special vocal cords in their throat to enact the hormonal ether-born inclinations.
However, what is not commonly known anymore, is that Devoted -can- resist...they just barely do so any more via the culture and general teachings to just give in for an easier life.
It's painful, like stepping on a thorn bush, the body trying to obey. It's nearly impossible to resist long enough not to eventually fold, but, it's possible.
There is also the form of 'malicious compliance', doing as told, but to -the letter- so as to try and find a loophole.
This is how MC will have navigated the world so far.
Having been born to an Apostle mother, she was raised in secret among a village of folk not bound by the rules of this unexplained phenomenon, raised to hide and feign an identity of a apostle herself.
It worked...for many years.
Until, one day, her mother passed, and for a moment, her grief outmatched her wits.
She walked the world a zombie, and one day, she went to bathe in the lake, and she did not look around as throughly as she usually did, and, the marks of Devotion, the birth shapes upon all of her type, though in different areas for each person, were spotted, by a impish pair of eyes that worked for a business most intent on making sure Devoted each were assigned the right temple to give reverence.
She is stolen away, put in a gilded cage, to be sold to the highest bidder.
My hope, would be YC is of the classic barbarian types, a wife and a carnal slave being only barely indistinguishable from one another.
He is on the prowl for a Devoted, one he will claim -officially- as his and his alone (Or maybe not completely alone, should he deem it) and he purchases her.
She is compelled to be at his beck and call, but that does not mean she won't resist.
Sometimes overtly, dealing with the sharp scratches through her veins when she tries to refuse a command until she eventually subdues (or perhaps he grants her pity and resends the order) or, finding the loopholes.
Plus, being raised as she had, she isn't afraid to try and escape, something nearly unheard of, especially by a -chosen- Devoted.
Au'ra Princess and her forceful knight
Size difference
Shower time
Hands behind back
Mermaid taken
Pheromone/Scent play
Pheromone/Scent play 2
Bound 69
Upside down cunnilingus
Oni x Human
Overstimulated
Forceful kiss
Forceful kiss 2
Fondle from behind
Playing cops and robbers
After care 1
After care 2
After care 3
Sweaty
Possessive eyes
Possessive hands
Bound and enjoyed
(Warning, links below are both NSFW and non-con. The crying/unsatisfied appearance for MC is not accurate for what I am aiming for, but the free use/manhandling/and verbal praise used are big examples of kinks I am searching for)
Guidance 1
Guidance 2
Encouragement/Overstimulation 1
Encouragement/Overstimulation 2
General free use
General free use 2
Man handling and encouragement
Size difference
Shower time
Hands behind back
Mermaid taken
Pheromone/Scent play
Pheromone/Scent play 2
Bound 69
Upside down cunnilingus
Oni x Human
Overstimulated
Forceful kiss
Forceful kiss 2
Fondle from behind
Playing cops and robbers
After care 1
After care 2
After care 3
Sweaty
Possessive eyes
Possessive hands
Bound and enjoyed
(Warning, links below are both NSFW and non-con. The crying/unsatisfied appearance for MC is not accurate for what I am aiming for, but the free use/manhandling/and verbal praise used are big examples of kinks I am searching for)
Guidance 1
Guidance 2
Encouragement/Overstimulation 1
Encouragement/Overstimulation 2
General free use
General free use 2
Man handling and encouragement
The No-Can-Do's
I will not reply to messages that include any of these things.
- Fully violently non-consensual (Non-con where the 'attacker' is actually in love/falls in love with the 'victim' and it leans a dark romance sort of thing is not only on the table, but a kink I am searching for)
- MC not having an orgasm too during smut scenes (It's erotica, I want MC to cum as well, feeling physical pleasure even though she is struggling and unwilling is the entire core of the fun for my dub/non-con interest.)
- God-modding
- Breath play/control/denial
- Bimbofication
- Beastality
- Me playing multiple main characters (I can include secondaries/background characters for plot easily, but not for romance or as another main)
- Incest/Incest adjacent
- Verbal/Narrative Degradation/Objectification (no 'mean' terms, aka; 'slut, cum dump, harlot, fuck toy, whore' Etc.., not in smut and especially not outside of smut.)
- Hatefulness as romance (Even if a complicated relationship, the goal of neither character should be completely dehumanizing/harming just for the intent to harm the other.)
- Snuff (Background characters can pass away of course, but for plot, not sexual gratification)
- Scat/Vomit
- Vore
- Cheating (Polyamory is a possibility if you are genuinely interested in playing as multiple)
- Real-life face claims
- Playing (romantically/erotically) as a, or against a, character that is younger than 24
- Intense sadism (Bones breaking/amputation/deep gashes, for smut reasons. For drama or plot, maybe some more serious wounds can happen as long as they don't permanently damage a main character)
- Me playing a character with small/not-large breasts
- First/second person, present/future tense perspective writing
Writing samples:
I appreciate receiving a writing sample during plotting to help gauge if I mesh well with a possible writing partner, so here are writing samples of my own to preemptively share. Looking for people with a similar style. Please, no first-person/second-person perspective.The Continent Malutsa, The metropolis of Zalfu, and, the slums of the 'Copper Swamps'.
A seedy business thrived, for as 'Deities' always needed their underlings to 'protect', Devotees surely required their true keeper to 'worship'.
Amongst the dwarves and the elves and the beastkin, those usually unknowingly born as Nephilem, the talk of such a strange inherited hierarchy was still a complex befuddlement, until in the presence of a 'Deity', those whose spirit could bend the will of others, but especially, and specifically, the lesser dependents.
Their stature, even for the few uncommon whom were not tall and lumbering, left almost all others around feeling as though they should bow their head or quiet their voice.
A strange phenomenon. This unique biological advantage (and disadvantage) left it's marks on the culture of the world.
The Apostle amongst the lands could fit in best, an ability to command and a possibility to kowtow both ingrained, but only willingly. Their abundance, being the most of that population, aiding in the world being able to keep turning,
But 'Devotees', submissiveness was in their bones, they had no choice.
Especially with their obedient inclinations, deeeeep down in their marrow, there was this craving to belong, the way a 'Deity's' dominance could manipulate...and force.
For some, there was a bit of pleasure to be found in service, especially if, by grand luck, the dominant had a heart.
Though many more found that the power to command often was coupled with the ease to corrupt and to harm.
There was a small amount of devoted people that were resigned to their fate either way, to their place in the world, having turned -themselves- into the auction rather than be gathered up like cattle, usually when under the impression they were being watched for plucking to begin with. Something about the willingness making the sting of subjugation hurt a little less with the illusion that it was a choice.
In one such place, in the bright of day, hidden off in a roofless courtyard surrounded by brick walls and only the wandering eye of those 'allowed in', was where one such auction to assign servitude currently took place.
Cages...many cages, filled with pretty things to be purchased.
Most of the bodies on the other side of metal bars within a cube contained were dressed in burlap rags, arms simply tied behind their backs. Hanging tops held up by string about their necks and tattered skirts that barely left anything to the imagination and could flash their eden with a breeze.
One such woman, by the name of Mallory Lakai was at the center of a circle of cages set up like a fence around her.
Mallory was a common name for such an uncommon world, but her mother chose it as a quiet reminder to the forced to be agreeable lass, that each day she needed to try and escape her namesake.
Mallory was not such a person whom had willingly ended up there though, in her gilded cage.
No, her mother had desperately tried to keep her from such a fate, surely she would roll in her grave if she saw now where the woman had wound up.
Mallory was born to a 'Apostle' woman and a, well, she never knew anything about her father, she assumed he was human too, but, when her mother bore her, and saw the sign of Cupidos on her chest, the 'blessed marks of the Devote' specifically about her nipples, a sign of even more fertility than the average Devoted, she knew the sort of fate that could await her, so she fled without a word to any family, leaving any comforts behind for the sake of her child.
The once-free-now-taken woman had grown up amongst a group of merfolk off the coast of Malutsa. Her mother hold up in a hut, helping to make sure the sea-people had plenty of water to keep their scales moisturized during the times they shifted to legs when going to market to trade with land-dwellers. They were not affected by such hierarchy, so there was no power to be stolen.
For awhile, blissfully, Mallory wasn't even aware of her lower place in the world, until she hit puberty, and her mother knew she would need to warn her, that she would not always be there to protect her.
Now, here, tied up and vulnerable, she remembered the sense of doom when she discovered her nature.
How cruel the world felt...though it paled in comparison to now.
Everything seemed to go downhill after that moment.
When her mother passed away just a few years into true adulthood, the rose-petal haired and snow touched with little sun-spots skinned woman became listless.
Became...careless.
Walking the world as though a zombie.
Alone and sad.
Washing herself in the grotto one gloomy evening, not remembering to make sure that all the humans had left the merfolk settlement for the day, her body bare, the 'shapes of devotion' were spotted by a passerby salesman, the sign of a Devotee...and then the very next day she was snatched right out of her bed...and she witnessed a merman, Yarrow, whom was like a uncle to her, being skewered through the chest when he tried to save her...not understanding human law, and how a Devotee could, technically, be claimed by any Deity or Apostle if she was not already 'owned'...in more civilized circles it was looked down upon, hence the auctions being courted off as though secret, but, as far as legality, it was within their cultural right.
Mallory sniffled in the present time, blinking quickly to push back her tears from the fresh gruesome memory for fear that one of these cruel folk might take delight in her misery.
She was a spectacle though.
Her wrists were above her head, manacled in iron attached to the ceiling of a sun-gem-enclosure, and she was kneeling upon a cushion, her ankles also bound but from corner to corner of her cage behind her, forcing her to stand on her knees with legs spread.
Her skin made her look like a porcelain doll, little umber specks upon brow, cheek, and nose, but hair of roses fresh in bloom that reached to her mid back, and full lips of peony petals.
Her wrists did not bleed due to the padding she was allotted, compared to the other folk, but with the way she faintly pulled on her arms from over head every few minutes, there had accumulated soreness.
Faint shows of her far of wish for freedom.
With her arms up and legs spread, forced to kneel while swaths of cobalt satin adorned her chest and moderately concealing her feminine-region, the hour-glass of her form was prominent. She wouldn't be able to hide it.
Her chest almost to big to fit in the deep V neck of the dress, a long vanilla ravine between two plentiful snowy orbs completely visible from collarbone to ribs, that which would spill out of any humanoid's hands with it's abundance of plushiness. The transparent fabric making the pink peeks of her breasts faintly visible, barely any actual coverage to her form...the heart shapes of her areola teasingly in view as her hardened nipples poked against the cloth, sore as they always were ever since she became a woman...though ironically the gossamer fabric was more gentle on them than her other clothing...
The incline of her midriff was like the cinch of a vase, smooth and delicate, before curving into nice breedable hips.
The skirt slit at both sides, entirely revealing her legs so a long almost loincloth like cut of fabric hung before her pelvic garden and over the seam of her moonlight rear. Thin silver links hung over the outside of her marble thighs, connecting the front half of her barely-a-skirt to the back.
As though the woman were made of the clouds in heaven and sculpted into a symmetrical ski slope with chips of treasure dropped down to shine in particular areas, all wrapped up into a 5'3 tall package.
A 5'3 tall package that seemed even shorter on her delicate knees.
She sniffled again, chancing a glance upwards at those whom were eyeing her.
A part of her hoped that her sellers had over estimated her value.
Despite all the perks of her countenance, her eyesight had remained poor, so she had required glasses even at the young age of 5.
The circular specs sat on her bell-shaped nose and made the malachite rings that were her irises seem just a little bit bigger, like gemstones under a microscope.
Unfortunately, the barely clothed woman with a body 'blessed' by the goddess of love, lifted her moonlight chin only to be greeted by the sight of a few dozen people eyeing her confinements.
Drooling.
Staring at her like she was meat and they were wolves.
Some counting their coin purses with a vile sort of eagerness to see and hope that they had enough gold to get a closer look.
The gods had not favored her for awhile, but it seemed, at least for the moment, they had given her the quaint boon of no one to have yet enough funds to get in closer for a grabbing inspection on this first day of her display.
The Jewel Of The Market getting more space than the rest.
Mallory heard a whimper to her left, her head turning with those long maroon waves wafting around her shoulders, and saw a man with his hand completely up a fellow Devotee's 'top', his fingers seeming to dig into the frail meat of her breast and making the woman wince.
She closed her eyes and lowered her head, trying to hide her face from those that leered, and her gaze from the cruelty of what was happening around her.
It being little solace when a Apostle guard smacked the man's hand from the other bound-to-be-slave before he could mar her flesh.
The heavy chested devotee at the center of the slave circle wriggled again, her ankles shifting uselessly, her knees still not being allowed to close, the air touching her maidenhood vivid and uncomfortable while that sizeable chest rose and fell with her labored mournful breaths. A ravine of vanilla peeking up over the dark blue sheer cloth as they had been sure not to -completely- obscure the softness below her clavicle.
Her wrists, knees, and ankles ever so gently pinkened due to her own occasional motion of some vain stupid hope that the metal would crumble and she could flee.
Sorrow and grief like thorn vines growing round her ribs.
A seedy business thrived, for as 'Deities' always needed their underlings to 'protect', Devotees surely required their true keeper to 'worship'.
Amongst the dwarves and the elves and the beastkin, those usually unknowingly born as Nephilem, the talk of such a strange inherited hierarchy was still a complex befuddlement, until in the presence of a 'Deity', those whose spirit could bend the will of others, but especially, and specifically, the lesser dependents.
Their stature, even for the few uncommon whom were not tall and lumbering, left almost all others around feeling as though they should bow their head or quiet their voice.
A strange phenomenon. This unique biological advantage (and disadvantage) left it's marks on the culture of the world.
The Apostle amongst the lands could fit in best, an ability to command and a possibility to kowtow both ingrained, but only willingly. Their abundance, being the most of that population, aiding in the world being able to keep turning,
But 'Devotees', submissiveness was in their bones, they had no choice.
Especially with their obedient inclinations, deeeeep down in their marrow, there was this craving to belong, the way a 'Deity's' dominance could manipulate...and force.
For some, there was a bit of pleasure to be found in service, especially if, by grand luck, the dominant had a heart.
Though many more found that the power to command often was coupled with the ease to corrupt and to harm.
There was a small amount of devoted people that were resigned to their fate either way, to their place in the world, having turned -themselves- into the auction rather than be gathered up like cattle, usually when under the impression they were being watched for plucking to begin with. Something about the willingness making the sting of subjugation hurt a little less with the illusion that it was a choice.
In one such place, in the bright of day, hidden off in a roofless courtyard surrounded by brick walls and only the wandering eye of those 'allowed in', was where one such auction to assign servitude currently took place.
Cages...many cages, filled with pretty things to be purchased.
Most of the bodies on the other side of metal bars within a cube contained were dressed in burlap rags, arms simply tied behind their backs. Hanging tops held up by string about their necks and tattered skirts that barely left anything to the imagination and could flash their eden with a breeze.
One such woman, by the name of Mallory Lakai was at the center of a circle of cages set up like a fence around her.
Mallory was a common name for such an uncommon world, but her mother chose it as a quiet reminder to the forced to be agreeable lass, that each day she needed to try and escape her namesake.
Mallory was not such a person whom had willingly ended up there though, in her gilded cage.
No, her mother had desperately tried to keep her from such a fate, surely she would roll in her grave if she saw now where the woman had wound up.
Mallory was born to a 'Apostle' woman and a, well, she never knew anything about her father, she assumed he was human too, but, when her mother bore her, and saw the sign of Cupidos on her chest, the 'blessed marks of the Devote' specifically about her nipples, a sign of even more fertility than the average Devoted, she knew the sort of fate that could await her, so she fled without a word to any family, leaving any comforts behind for the sake of her child.
The once-free-now-taken woman had grown up amongst a group of merfolk off the coast of Malutsa. Her mother hold up in a hut, helping to make sure the sea-people had plenty of water to keep their scales moisturized during the times they shifted to legs when going to market to trade with land-dwellers. They were not affected by such hierarchy, so there was no power to be stolen.
For awhile, blissfully, Mallory wasn't even aware of her lower place in the world, until she hit puberty, and her mother knew she would need to warn her, that she would not always be there to protect her.
Now, here, tied up and vulnerable, she remembered the sense of doom when she discovered her nature.
How cruel the world felt...though it paled in comparison to now.
Everything seemed to go downhill after that moment.
When her mother passed away just a few years into true adulthood, the rose-petal haired and snow touched with little sun-spots skinned woman became listless.
Became...careless.
Walking the world as though a zombie.
Alone and sad.
Washing herself in the grotto one gloomy evening, not remembering to make sure that all the humans had left the merfolk settlement for the day, her body bare, the 'shapes of devotion' were spotted by a passerby salesman, the sign of a Devotee...and then the very next day she was snatched right out of her bed...and she witnessed a merman, Yarrow, whom was like a uncle to her, being skewered through the chest when he tried to save her...not understanding human law, and how a Devotee could, technically, be claimed by any Deity or Apostle if she was not already 'owned'...in more civilized circles it was looked down upon, hence the auctions being courted off as though secret, but, as far as legality, it was within their cultural right.
Mallory sniffled in the present time, blinking quickly to push back her tears from the fresh gruesome memory for fear that one of these cruel folk might take delight in her misery.
She was a spectacle though.
Her wrists were above her head, manacled in iron attached to the ceiling of a sun-gem-enclosure, and she was kneeling upon a cushion, her ankles also bound but from corner to corner of her cage behind her, forcing her to stand on her knees with legs spread.
Her skin made her look like a porcelain doll, little umber specks upon brow, cheek, and nose, but hair of roses fresh in bloom that reached to her mid back, and full lips of peony petals.
Her wrists did not bleed due to the padding she was allotted, compared to the other folk, but with the way she faintly pulled on her arms from over head every few minutes, there had accumulated soreness.
Faint shows of her far of wish for freedom.
With her arms up and legs spread, forced to kneel while swaths of cobalt satin adorned her chest and moderately concealing her feminine-region, the hour-glass of her form was prominent. She wouldn't be able to hide it.
Her chest almost to big to fit in the deep V neck of the dress, a long vanilla ravine between two plentiful snowy orbs completely visible from collarbone to ribs, that which would spill out of any humanoid's hands with it's abundance of plushiness. The transparent fabric making the pink peeks of her breasts faintly visible, barely any actual coverage to her form...the heart shapes of her areola teasingly in view as her hardened nipples poked against the cloth, sore as they always were ever since she became a woman...though ironically the gossamer fabric was more gentle on them than her other clothing...
The incline of her midriff was like the cinch of a vase, smooth and delicate, before curving into nice breedable hips.
The skirt slit at both sides, entirely revealing her legs so a long almost loincloth like cut of fabric hung before her pelvic garden and over the seam of her moonlight rear. Thin silver links hung over the outside of her marble thighs, connecting the front half of her barely-a-skirt to the back.
As though the woman were made of the clouds in heaven and sculpted into a symmetrical ski slope with chips of treasure dropped down to shine in particular areas, all wrapped up into a 5'3 tall package.
A 5'3 tall package that seemed even shorter on her delicate knees.
She sniffled again, chancing a glance upwards at those whom were eyeing her.
A part of her hoped that her sellers had over estimated her value.
Despite all the perks of her countenance, her eyesight had remained poor, so she had required glasses even at the young age of 5.
The circular specs sat on her bell-shaped nose and made the malachite rings that were her irises seem just a little bit bigger, like gemstones under a microscope.
Unfortunately, the barely clothed woman with a body 'blessed' by the goddess of love, lifted her moonlight chin only to be greeted by the sight of a few dozen people eyeing her confinements.
Drooling.
Staring at her like she was meat and they were wolves.
Some counting their coin purses with a vile sort of eagerness to see and hope that they had enough gold to get a closer look.
The gods had not favored her for awhile, but it seemed, at least for the moment, they had given her the quaint boon of no one to have yet enough funds to get in closer for a grabbing inspection on this first day of her display.
The Jewel Of The Market getting more space than the rest.
Mallory heard a whimper to her left, her head turning with those long maroon waves wafting around her shoulders, and saw a man with his hand completely up a fellow Devotee's 'top', his fingers seeming to dig into the frail meat of her breast and making the woman wince.
She closed her eyes and lowered her head, trying to hide her face from those that leered, and her gaze from the cruelty of what was happening around her.
It being little solace when a Apostle guard smacked the man's hand from the other bound-to-be-slave before he could mar her flesh.
The heavy chested devotee at the center of the slave circle wriggled again, her ankles shifting uselessly, her knees still not being allowed to close, the air touching her maidenhood vivid and uncomfortable while that sizeable chest rose and fell with her labored mournful breaths. A ravine of vanilla peeking up over the dark blue sheer cloth as they had been sure not to -completely- obscure the softness below her clavicle.
Her wrists, knees, and ankles ever so gently pinkened due to her own occasional motion of some vain stupid hope that the metal would crumble and she could flee.
Sorrow and grief like thorn vines growing round her ribs.
Fay was touched when just before she was treated to her own meal, Olvith went out of his way to get a cushion beneath her knees, flashing him a brief and almost wholesome smile of appreciation, though, then she was off to her impassioned duty.
Once she began, the bit of praise that erupted from his slowly uneven breath sent a nice line of goosebumps down her spine, feeling his strong body looming over hers as he allowed her free rein
She breathed through her nose, to aid in getting used to how tight he fit into her. Fay stilled her drumming heart beneath her heaving blessed chest, breathing harshly as she knew she would need all the air in her lungs she could muster at this point.
The satin skinned woman with her long river of hair breathed deeply through her nostrils, and then she pushed her head forward. With a loud 'sluuurp' she stuffed him half way into her mouth, her saliva beginning to leak from between her constricting lips and his burning cock. Her shoulders jerked and her gag reflex flared briefly, her eyes closed tight as she resisted the urge, focusing.
It was ok, she knew what to do, she hadn't had the best line of partners from her past, but she did think herself at least skilled when it came to pleasing, always the considerate lover. She drew her head back after only pulling him in half way, knowing she needed to allow herself to get just a little more used to Olvith's engorged prick. She used the full capacity of her lungs, pulling on the barely loose skin as she dragged her lips over the circumference of his dick, the friction pulling at him. The pressure was so strong that when she finally pulled off of him again, a loud and quick 'POP' resonated in the air around her.
Fay gasped and then huffed, her pillowy breasts the size of round melons shaking and shuddering, her crimson face so hot she knew there -had- to be smoke rising from her flesh and spit had collected at either side of her lips, in fact, a small power-line of saliva was hanging onto her lips on one side while the other connected to the very tip of his thick schlong.
Though as soon as her mouth parted from his manhood her right hand suddenly stroked upward, her wrist twisting so as to disperse the caress around the whole perimeter of his length, and her left hand let go of his wonderfully strong side in order to dip down, and it found his testicles again, taking them both in her smooth palm, fingers pressing down onto them, massaging the orbs until she gave them a careful but firm squeeze, making sure he remained attended to as she panted and caught her breath.
Her hand gave his head two deeeeep pumps, other palm still rubbing his jewels, and she knew it was time, big breath, aaaaand
Her mouth opened wide, tongue lolling out to make extra room, and once more his cock was being forced into her narrow soft lips, her mouth muscle swiping left and right as to give extra friction to the underside of his delectable stick. She slipped down his girth, her hand stroking down right below her suckling mouth, dispersing her drool that dribbled downward all along his erection, the way his salty taste hit her causing more and more spit to accumulate to help lube his manhood.
Fay made it half way, her left hand continuing to rub his balls, a constant caress, but she moved her right hand up to his stomach, completely out of her way, shivering briefly when she felt the stone formation of his torso, and then, she dove down on him.
His head struck the back of her sopping velvet throat, being trapped so tightly in her inner neck muscles it was like she was strangling this thick muscle of his. Her eyes teared up from the pressure...the...the lovely pressure. The maiden had bobbed down on him so deeply that her nose was softly pressed against his stomach, not an inch of his dick left visible to the open air, all of it now housed snugly within her mouth and throat as tears rolled down her eyes, tears that were oddly...comfortable, it being from the pressure alone and no sense of turmoil, in fact the little streaks of wettness were almost soothing to her fired up cheeks. The spit that was seeping from her trailed down to his nuts, dripping of them.
Fay felt herself begin to gag, but instead of allowing herself to pull away, she kept herself in place, and she gurgled upon his manhood. Each spasm of her stuffed throat clenched around the hulking one's rod, clamping down on him harshly and a, 'Gluck Gluck Gluck' sound rumbled from her throat and around his cock, echoing against him.
With her other hand having nothing to do, she pulled it down and joined her already diligently working fingers, using both to squeeze and hold and massage his testicles like they were wonderful playthings meant for her rubbing enjoyment.
Once she began, the bit of praise that erupted from his slowly uneven breath sent a nice line of goosebumps down her spine, feeling his strong body looming over hers as he allowed her free rein
She breathed through her nose, to aid in getting used to how tight he fit into her. Fay stilled her drumming heart beneath her heaving blessed chest, breathing harshly as she knew she would need all the air in her lungs she could muster at this point.
The satin skinned woman with her long river of hair breathed deeply through her nostrils, and then she pushed her head forward. With a loud 'sluuurp' she stuffed him half way into her mouth, her saliva beginning to leak from between her constricting lips and his burning cock. Her shoulders jerked and her gag reflex flared briefly, her eyes closed tight as she resisted the urge, focusing.
It was ok, she knew what to do, she hadn't had the best line of partners from her past, but she did think herself at least skilled when it came to pleasing, always the considerate lover. She drew her head back after only pulling him in half way, knowing she needed to allow herself to get just a little more used to Olvith's engorged prick. She used the full capacity of her lungs, pulling on the barely loose skin as she dragged her lips over the circumference of his dick, the friction pulling at him. The pressure was so strong that when she finally pulled off of him again, a loud and quick 'POP' resonated in the air around her.
Fay gasped and then huffed, her pillowy breasts the size of round melons shaking and shuddering, her crimson face so hot she knew there -had- to be smoke rising from her flesh and spit had collected at either side of her lips, in fact, a small power-line of saliva was hanging onto her lips on one side while the other connected to the very tip of his thick schlong.
Though as soon as her mouth parted from his manhood her right hand suddenly stroked upward, her wrist twisting so as to disperse the caress around the whole perimeter of his length, and her left hand let go of his wonderfully strong side in order to dip down, and it found his testicles again, taking them both in her smooth palm, fingers pressing down onto them, massaging the orbs until she gave them a careful but firm squeeze, making sure he remained attended to as she panted and caught her breath.
Her hand gave his head two deeeeep pumps, other palm still rubbing his jewels, and she knew it was time, big breath, aaaaand
Her mouth opened wide, tongue lolling out to make extra room, and once more his cock was being forced into her narrow soft lips, her mouth muscle swiping left and right as to give extra friction to the underside of his delectable stick. She slipped down his girth, her hand stroking down right below her suckling mouth, dispersing her drool that dribbled downward all along his erection, the way his salty taste hit her causing more and more spit to accumulate to help lube his manhood.
Fay made it half way, her left hand continuing to rub his balls, a constant caress, but she moved her right hand up to his stomach, completely out of her way, shivering briefly when she felt the stone formation of his torso, and then, she dove down on him.
His head struck the back of her sopping velvet throat, being trapped so tightly in her inner neck muscles it was like she was strangling this thick muscle of his. Her eyes teared up from the pressure...the...the lovely pressure. The maiden had bobbed down on him so deeply that her nose was softly pressed against his stomach, not an inch of his dick left visible to the open air, all of it now housed snugly within her mouth and throat as tears rolled down her eyes, tears that were oddly...comfortable, it being from the pressure alone and no sense of turmoil, in fact the little streaks of wettness were almost soothing to her fired up cheeks. The spit that was seeping from her trailed down to his nuts, dripping of them.
Fay felt herself begin to gag, but instead of allowing herself to pull away, she kept herself in place, and she gurgled upon his manhood. Each spasm of her stuffed throat clenched around the hulking one's rod, clamping down on him harshly and a, 'Gluck Gluck Gluck' sound rumbled from her throat and around his cock, echoing against him.
With her other hand having nothing to do, she pulled it down and joined her already diligently working fingers, using both to squeeze and hold and massage his testicles like they were wonderful playthings meant for her rubbing enjoyment.
Last edited: