Aztec ball court Goddesses

 

Serving his giantess mistress

 

Serving his giantess mistress 

By Ramvo

(all characters in this fictional story are 18 or older!!!)

The steam in the private spa alcove had thickened to a warm, enveloping haze, turning every breath into something heavy and deliberate. Seraphina still lay prone across the reinforced table, twelve feet of flawless, sun-warmed curves gleaming with oil under the soft amber lights. The neon-lime thong had ridden higher now—deliberately tugged upward by her own long fingers minutes earlier—so that the thin strip of fabric framed rather than covered the generous swell of her ass. Her heavy breasts were crushed luxuriously beneath her chest, nipples stiff against the warm leather padding. Long blonde curls spilled everywhere, some clinging damply to the small of her back.

Daniel remained on his knees between thighs that could have closed around his entire torso like a velvet vice. His spa robe had been stripped away twenty minutes ago and now lay in a careless heap beside the table; he was naked, skin flushed from heat and humiliation, cock straining painfully upward with no relief permitted.

Seraphina’s voice cut through the quiet drip of the fountain like a silk-wrapped blade.

“Hands behind your back. Now.”

Daniel obeyed instantly, wrists crossing at the base of his spine. The position forced his chest forward, made him arch slightly—vulnerable, exposed.

She flexed one massive glute, the movement rolling like slow thunder beneath his lips. The cheek pressed firmly against his face, smothering nose and mouth for three long heartbeats before easing back just enough for him to gasp.

“Breathe when I allow it,” she said calmly. “Not before.”

He nodded against her skin, the motion small and frantic.

She reached back again. This time her fingers didn’t stroke; they closed around the back of his head like a warm manacle, manicured nails pricking scalp.

“You exist for two reasons right now,” she continued, voice low and unhurried. “To cushion my ass when I want pressure, and to worship when I want pleasure. Nothing else. No thoughts. No wants. No coming. Say it.”

Daniel’s words came out muffled, trembling against plush flesh. “I exist to cushion your ass… and to worship when you want pleasure. Nothing else, Mistress.”

“Louder.”

“I exist to cushion your ass and to worship when you want pleasure. Nothing else, Mistress!”

The last word cracked on a desperate inhale.

Seraphina smiled—slow, predatory—and shifted her hips. One monumental cheek settled more heavily across his face, sealing him in warm darkness. She held him there, counting silently. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.

When she finally lifted, he dragged in a ragged breath, lips swollen, cheeks streaked with oil and his own saliva.

“Pathetic,” she murmured, almost fond. “But useful.”

She spread her thighs another deliberate inch. The movement pulled the thong aside just enough to expose the slick, flushed lips beneath.

“Kiss here.” One finger traced the outer edge, parting herself slightly. “Once. Softly. Then thank me for the privilege.”

Daniel leaned in, trembling. His lips brushed her with feather reverence—barely contact, more breath than touch. He lingered a heartbeat, then pulled back.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Thank you for letting me taste you.”

She hummed approval, then caught his chin between thumb and forefinger—two digits that easily spanned the width of his jaw.

“Again. Deeper this time. Tongue. And if I feel you trying to chase your own pleasure instead of mine…” Her grip tightened fractionally. “…I’ll sit on your face until you forget your own name. Clear?”

“Crystal, Mistress.”

He dove back in.

This time there was no hesitation. His tongue pressed flat, then curled, tracing slow worshipful circles. He moaned softly into her—vibration she felt all the way up her spine—and she rewarded him with a low, rolling purr that made his neglected cock twitch helplessly in the humid air.

Seraphina began to rock—tiny, controlled movements that ground her against his mouth in lazy rhythm. Each roll pressed his nose deeper into the cleft above, forced him to breathe her or suffocate sweetly. She never hurried. She simply used him: face as seat, tongue as instrument, desperation as fuel.

After several long minutes she lifted her hips just enough to let him speak.

“Beg,” she ordered.

Daniel’s voice was hoarse, lips glistening. “Please, Mistress… please let me keep serving you. Let me drown in you. I’ll do anything—anything—to stay right here.”

“Anything?” She tilted her head, curls sliding over one shoulder.

“Anything.”

She considered him for a long moment, turquoise eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

“Then prove it.”

She settled her full weight down again—this time deliberately, slowly, until his face disappeared completely beneath the generous curve of her ass. His muffled whimper vibrated straight through her core.

Seraphina sighed in deep satisfaction, folded her arms beneath her cheek once more, and closed her eyes.

“Forty minutes left on the booking,” she murmured to the steam-filled air. “You will not come up for air until I say. And when I finally let you breathe… you will thank me by begging for another hour.”

Beneath her, Daniel’s hands stayed obediently locked behind his back. His world had narrowed to heat, softness, her scent, her taste—and the absolute, exquisite certainty that his only purpose was to please the goddess who had chosen to smother him with her pleasure.

She smiled into her folded arms, indolent and utterly content, while the small man beneath her worshipped with everything he had left.

And the clock on the wall ticked on.

Seraphina’s sigh was long and luxurious, the sound rolling through her like distant thunder as she settled her weight more deliberately. Daniel’s face remained sealed beneath the warm, heavy curve of her ass—nose pressed deep into the cleft, lips parted against slick skin, every shallow breath pulling more of her scent into his lungs. She had been riding his tongue in slow, lazy circles for what felt like forever, using his mouth as little more than an extension of her own pleasure.

Now she wanted more.

With a casual flex of her hips she lifted just enough for him to drag in a desperate gulp of humid air. His lips were swollen, chin glistening, eyes glassy with the kind of subspace that bordered on oblivion.

“Look at me,” she commanded softly.

Daniel tilted his head back, craning to meet her turquoise gaze over the sweeping arch of her spine. Strands of blonde curls framed her face like a halo; the satisfied curve of her mouth was almost cruel in its beauty.

“You’ve been very good with my pussy,” she murmured. “But I’m not finished being worshipped. Not even close.”

She reached back with both hands. Long fingers hooked under the thin neon-lime strip of her thong and tugged it aside completely, letting the damp fabric snap against the outer curve of one cheek. The motion exposed everything: the tight, pink ring of her asshole nestled between plush globes, already glistening faintly from oil and earlier attention.

Seraphina spread herself wider—thumbs pressing into soft flesh, opening herself shamelessly.

“See this?” Her voice dropped to velvet menace. “This is where your tongue belongs now. Every inch of me is yours to serve, but this… this is sacred. You don’t rush. You don’t beg yet. You worship like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. Because right now, it is.”

Daniel’s cock jerked helplessly between his thighs. He swallowed hard, voice cracking. “Yes, Mistress. Thank you… thank you for letting me—”

“Quiet.” One word, sharp. “Words later. Tongue now.”

She lowered herself again—this time guiding him with merciless precision. His lips met the smooth skin just below her entrance first; she let him kiss there, soft and reverent, before she pressed down further. The tip of his nose brushed the puckered ring. Then his mouth.

The first touch of his tongue was tentative—flat and warm, simply tracing the outer rim in a slow, trembling circle.

Seraphina hummed approval deep in her throat. “Deeper.”

He obeyed.

His tongue pressed firmer, swirling in tighter spirals, tasting clean skin and faint salt and the intimate musk that was purely her. She rocked gently, grinding back against his face in tiny increments, forcing his tongue to follow the rhythm she set. Each forward roll dragged his lips across her perineum; each backward motion seated the tip of his tongue right against her opening.

“Breathe through your nose,” she reminded him coolly when his inhales grew ragged. “You don’t get to surface until I’ve come at least once from this.”

Daniel whimpered into her—a muffled, broken sound that vibrated straight through her core. His hands—still locked obediently behind his back—clenched until the knuckles bleached white. Every muscle in his body trembled with the effort of holding still, of serving without chasing his own release.

Seraphina began to move more deliberately.

She rolled her hips in languid figure-eights, using his tongue like a living toy. One moment his lips were sealed around her rim, suckling gently; the next his tongue was spearing inside, shallow at first, then deeper as she bore down and opened for him. The wet, obscene sounds of his devotion filled the steamy alcove—slick laps, muffled moans, the soft creak of the reinforced table under her shifting weight.

She reached down between her thighs with one hand, fingers finding her clit and circling in slow, firm strokes while his tongue worked below. The dual sensation drew a low, rolling moan from her lips.

“That’s it,” she breathed. “Worship my ass like the privileged little slut you are. Deeper. Slower. Make me feel every flick.”

Daniel pushed his tongue as far inside as he could, curling it, fluttering, tracing every sensitive ridge he could reach. His world had narrowed to heat, softness, the pulsing clench of her around his intrusion, the way her thighs quivered every time he hit the perfect spot.

Seraphina’s breathing grew uneven. Her free hand fisted in his hair—not pulling him closer, but anchoring him exactly where she wanted him while she chased her peak.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she growled. “Not when I’m this close. You keep that tongue buried until I finish—or I’ll sit so hard you black out and wake up still licking.”

His answering moan was desperate, frantic. He redoubled his efforts—long, worshipping strokes followed by tight, fluttering circles, then back inside, fucking her slowly with his tongue while she ground down harder.

When she came it was sudden and shattering.

Her thighs clamped around his ears like warm marble pillars. Her asshole pulsed rhythmically around the tip of his tongue, gripping and releasing in waves. A low, animal sound tore from her throat—half moan, half triumphant purr—as pleasure rolled through her in heavy surges. She rode his face through every aftershock, smearing wetness across his cheeks, his nose, his chin.

Only when the last tremor faded did she finally lift.

Daniel gasped, coughed, dragged in lungfuls of air that tasted like her. His face was a wreck—flushed, slick, eyes dazed and shining with tears of effort and devotion.

Seraphina twisted at the waist to look down at him properly. Her smile was slow, sated, dangerously tender.

“Look at you,” she murmured, tracing a fingertip along his swollen lower lip. “Covered in me. Ruined for anyone else.”

She leaned down—impossibly far, given her size—and brushed the lightest kiss against his forehead.

“Thank me.”

Daniel’s voice was raw, reverent. “Thank you, Mistress… thank you for letting me worship your perfect ass. Thank you for coming on my tongue. Thank you for using me.”

She hummed, pleased.

Then she settled back down—cheeks spreading once more across his upturned face.

“Again,” she said simply. “Slower this time. We still have thirty minutes… and I want to feel that tongue worshipping until the very last second.”

Daniel closed his eyes, exhaled shakily against her, and began once more—soft, slow circles around her still-sensitive rim, devoted and utterly owned.

Beneath the goddess who had claimed every breath, every taste, every scrap of his will, the small man licked and kissed and served exactly as commanded.

And Seraphina smiled into her folded arms, utterly content, while time dissolved around the exquisite altar of her body.

Seraphina lifted herself with languid grace, the reinforced table creaking softly as her twelve-foot frame shifted. Daniel’s face emerged—reddened, slick, eyes wide and glassy from prolonged submersion beneath her. His lips were parted, chest heaving, every shallow breath still carrying the taste and scent of her.

She reached to the small side table beside the massage bench. A thick, black silicone dildo rested there—realistic in shape, ridged along the shaft, flared base, easily ten inches long and girthy enough to stretch even her. She had placed it within easy reach earlier, anticipating this exact moment.

Without a word she brought it to his mouth.

“Open.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped instantly. His tongue flattened instinctively as she slid the blunt head past his lips. The silicone was cool at first, warming quickly against his tongue. She fed it deeper—slow, inexorable—until the tip nudged the back of his throat.

“Breathe through your nose,” she instructed, voice low and calm. “You’re going to keep this wet for me. Suck. Coat it. Make it slick enough that it slides in without resistance.”

He obeyed, cheeks hollowing as he suckled obediently. Saliva gathered, dripped down the shaft; she twisted it gently, coating every inch while his eyes watered from the depth. She didn’t force it past his gag reflex—not yet—but held it lodged deep enough that each swallow made his throat flutter around the intrusion.

“Good boy,” she murmured, stroking his cheek with her free hand. “Such a perfect little toy. Mouth full, mind empty.”

When the dildo glistened from base to tip she withdrew it slowly, strings of saliva connecting his swollen lips to the slick head. She inspected her work with a satisfied hum, then rose onto her knees atop the wide bench—thighs straddling his head, monumental curves looming above him like storm clouds.

Daniel lay flat on his back now, the padded surface cradling him while she positioned herself directly over his face. Her knees bracketed his shoulders; her ass hovered inches above his mouth, cheeks parted by her own hands.

She angled the dildo downward.

“Eyes on me,” she ordered.

His gaze locked to hers—desperate, reverent—as she pressed the wet tip against her still-sensitive rim.

She sank down in one smooth, controlled motion.

The thick head breached her easily—thanks to his earlier tongue work and the generous oil—and she didn’t stop until half the length had disappeared inside her rectum. A low, throaty moan escaped her lips; her lashes fluttered. She paused there, letting her body adjust, letting him watch every quiver of her inner walls gripping the invading shaft.

Then she began to ride.

Not his face—not yet.

First she rode the dildo itself.

She rose and fell in slow, deliberate strokes—hips rolling, ass flexing, taking more of the toy with each downward plunge until the flared base kissed her stretched rim. Wet sounds filled the alcove: the slick glide of silicone, the soft slap of her heavy cheeks against her own thighs, his ragged breathing beneath her.

Only when she had worked herself into a steady, building rhythm did she lower further.

Her ass settled fully onto his upturned face.

The dildo—still buried to the hilt inside her—now pressed directly against his lips and nose through the thin barrier of her stretched flesh. Every time she sank down the toy nudged deeper into her rectum while simultaneously grinding his mouth shut, sealing his airways beneath plush, warm weight.

“Breathe when I rise,” she panted, voice thickening with pleasure. “Not before.”

She began to fuck herself in earnest now—riding both the dildo and his face in perfect synchrony.

Up—his nose and mouth freed for one frantic inhale.

Down—her ass smothered him completely, the thick shaft plunging deeper into her guts while his tongue instinctively pressed flat against the underside of the toy through her skin, feeling every ridge as it pistoned.

Up—another stolen breath, tasting only her.

Down—deeper still, her cheeks spreading wide across his features, the base of the dildo grinding against his lips like a cruel gag.

She quickened the pace. Her free hand returned between her thighs, fingers circling her clit in tight, frantic strokes while the other gripped the base of the dildo, holding it steady so she could impale herself harder, faster.

Daniel’s world was darkness, pressure, heat, the relentless rhythm of her riding. His cock throbbed painfully between his legs—untouched, leaking, ignored. His hands stayed locked behind his back; he didn’t dare move them. Every muffled whimper vibrated straight into her core, every desperate flutter of his tongue against the buried shaft earned a pleased clench from her walls.

Seraphina’s moans grew louder, less controlled.

“That’s it—feel how deep it is? Feel how full I am while I use your face as my seat?” Her voice cracked on a gasp. “You’re nothing but furniture right now. A warm hole for my toy. A cushion for my ass. Say it—muffled is fine.”

The words came out garbled against her flesh, barely audible:

“Mmmph… furniture… hole… cushion… Mistress…”

She laughed—a low, wicked sound—and slammed down harder, burying the entire length inside her rectum while pinning his head immobile beneath her.

Her orgasm hit like a breaking wave.

Thighs clamped around his skull. Her asshole spasmed violently around the thick silicone, milking it in rhythmic pulses. A gush of wetness coated her fingers as she rubbed herself through the peak, hips jerking erratically, grinding the base of the dildo against his sealed mouth until stars burst behind his closed eyelids from lack of air.

She rode the aftershocks for long, trembling seconds before finally lifting—just enough for him to suck in a desperate, wheezing breath.

The dildo remained lodged deep inside her; she made no move to remove it.

Instead she looked down between her breasts at his wrecked, shining face.

“Clean it when I pull it out,” she said softly. “Every inch. Then thank me for letting you serve as my stool while I fucked myself on your breath.”

Daniel nodded weakly, lips trembling.

“Yes… Mistress…”

Seraphina smiled—slow, sated, utterly in command—and began to rise once more, already planning the next way she would empty his mind and fill his world with nothing but her.

Seraphina eased herself off Daniel’s face with deliberate slowness, the thick black dildo still buried deep in her rectum. She remained kneeling above him, thighs framing his head like marble columns, letting him gulp air in ragged, grateful pulls. His face was a glistening ruin—cheeks flushed crimson, lips swollen and shining with saliva, oil, and her.

She reached back with one hand and gripped the flared base. Slowly—agonizingly slowly—she began to withdraw the toy.

Inch by glistening inch it emerged, coated in a sheen of her warmth and the faint traces of his earlier devotion. When the head finally popped free with a soft, wet sound, she held the dildo poised above his mouth.

“Clean it,” she ordered, voice husky from her recent climax. “Every ridge. Every inch. Show me how grateful you are to taste what’s been inside me.”

Daniel’s mouth opened immediately. She fed him the toy—still warm from her body—guiding it past his lips until the head rested on his tongue. He closed around it without hesitation, sucking gently at first, then more eagerly as she twisted it, making him chase every slick contour. His tongue swirled, lapped, traced the veins and ridges, swallowing down the intimate flavor of her depths mixed with silicone and faint traces of coconut oil.

Seraphina watched with hooded eyes, stroking his hair almost tenderly as he worked.

“Good boy,” she purred when the dildo emerged clean and gleaming with only his saliva. “Such a thorough little cleaner.”

She set the toy aside on the small table, then reached for something else she had prepared earlier: a thick, premium dark chocolate bar—70% cacao, rectangular, about six inches long and an inch wide—still wrapped in gold foil. She peeled it open with slow ceremony, letting the rich, bittersweet scent drift into the steamy air.

Daniel’s eyes widened slightly as he watched her unwrap it.

Seraphina smiled down at him—slow, wicked, utterly in command.

“I want to feel something melt inside me,” she murmured. “Something decadent. Something that will make you work even harder to please me.”

Without another word she parted her cheeks again with one hand, exposing her still-slightly-gaping rim—pink, slick, relaxed from the earlier stretching. With the other she pressed one end of the chocolate bar against her entrance.

The bar was firm at first, cool against her heated flesh. She pushed steadily. The chocolate yielded just enough, softening at the point of contact as her body warmth began to work on it. She sank it in gradually—two inches, three, four—until only a small stub protruded between her plush cheeks.

She clenched once, deliberately, drawing the rest inside with a soft, obscene sucking sound. The bar disappeared completely, nestled deep in her rectum.

Seraphina sighed in pleasure, rolling her hips in a slow circle as the chocolate began to soften further, melting from her inner heat. She could feel it turning creamy, viscous, coating her walls in rich, sticky warmth.

She settled back down—straddling his face once more, ass hovering just above his lips.

“Five minutes,” she said softly. “Five minutes for it to melt properly. You will wait. You will breathe my scent. You will stay perfectly still while I let it soften inside me… just for you.”

Daniel whimpered beneath her. His cock—still painfully hard, untouched—twitched helplessly against his stomach. He kept his hands locked behind his back, eyes fixed upward at the shadowed valley between her cheeks where the chocolate was slowly dissolving into something molten and intimate.

She rocked gently, letting gravity and her body heat do the work. Every tiny shift made a faint, wet sound as the melting bar shifted deeper, coating her more thoroughly. The scent of dark chocolate mingled with her natural musk—heady, decadent, overwhelming.

After what felt like an eternity to Daniel, Seraphina lifted herself just enough to speak.

“Now,” she commanded. “Open wide. Catch every drop.”

She lowered again—this time deliberately pressing her rim directly against his parted lips.

She bore down.

The first warm trickle emerged—thick, semi-melted chocolate mixed with her own slickness. It coated his tongue in rich, bittersweet heat. Daniel swallowed instinctively, moaning at the obscene taste: her body, the dark cacao, the forbidden intimacy of it all.

Seraphina clenched and released in slow pulses, pushing more of the softened bar out. Each contraction forced another warm, sticky dollop onto his waiting tongue. He lapped eagerly—sucking gently at her rim, tongue dipping inside to scoop what remained, cleaning her as the chocolate continued to melt and flow.

She rode his mouth through it—small, rolling grinds that smeared the mess across his lips, his chin, his cheeks. Chocolate streaked his face like war paint; he swallowed every drop she gave him, never once pulling away.

When the last of it had been expelled—her rectum now slick and empty save for the lingering residue—she settled her full weight down one final time, sealing his mouth over her cleaned, chocolate-smeared rim.

“Lick me spotless,” she breathed. “Every trace. Then thank me for feeding you something so filthy and sweet.”

Daniel’s tongue went to work immediately—slow, worshipful circles around her puckered entrance, delving inside to chase the final hints of melted chocolate and her taste. He moaned brokenly against her flesh, utterly lost in the act of serving.

Only when she was satisfied—her rim glistening once more with nothing but his saliva—did she rise.

She looked down at him: face smeared with dark streaks, eyes glazed with subspace, lips trembling.

Daniel’s voice was raw, reverent.

“Thank you, Mistress… thank you for melting inside me… for feeding me your chocolate… for letting me taste you like this. Thank you for making me your filthy little dessert plate.”

Seraphina’s smile was slow, indulgent, predatory.

She leaned down—impossibly far—and pressed a single, soft kiss to his chocolate-stained forehead.

“You’re welcome, pet,” she whispered. “Now… we still have time left on the clock. And I’m far from finished using that mouth.”

She shifted forward slightly, positioning her dripping pussy directly over his lips once more.

“Start again,” she ordered softly. “From the beginning. Make me come while you still taste chocolate on your tongue.”

Daniel closed his eyes in blissful surrender, opened his mouth, and obeyed.

The steam curled thicker around them as the goddess resumed her throne—and her small, devoted worshiper gave himself completely to the next exquisite demand.

The End.

Voluptuous GTS