Life in GTS high school 2: the next day

LIFE IN GIANTESS HIGH SCHOOL

Part 2: The next day.

IN THE NOT SO FAR FUTURE...

There’s a new world order. One unexpected consequence of the collapse of several Earth’s ecosystems was that female humans began growing, getting higher, stronger and more dominant, while males were decimated and remained the same size. The female-dominated society began ruling and changing the dynamics of power and males had to adapt in order to survive. 

This story takes place when all females are now 50-feet towering giantesses on average, and males are only considered toys and pets.

Jerry has just been transferred from an all male high school to a mixed one and is not sure what to expect from his school life from now on. He’s welcomed by other male students but, to his chagrin, he soon realizes that his life will never be the same!!

Life was never the same. After being used as a living suppository and human dildo several times, Jerry was finally allowed to go home and recover. He was completely soaked in the giantess’ fluids and had to take a long hot shower to eliminate all the smell and sticky liquids that were covering his body. As he washed his sore limbs, Jerry couldn’t help feeling aroused and soiled at the same time remembering the way Tyra had used him over and over. The ebony giantess had no regard for his puny pleas of mercy as she forced him to suck her engorged clit and pushed him in and out his pussy afterwards. But the worst part had been when she fed him to her anal ring. For long minutes, the walls of her intestines massaged and contracted all around him as she climaxed and moaned contentedly.

Tyra sent her girlfriends several videos showing how she played and enjoyed using Jerry in her aroused orifices. 

“Suck it bitch!” she said as she forced her engorged clit down his throat. She pushed the back of his head making him gag. Jerry tried to push her but Tyra relentlessly kept moving his tiny head closer and closer to her. In short time, Jerry had teary eyes and found himself covered in her sweat and pussy juices.

“I’m gonna make you an expert clit sucker!” she said excitedly, “you have all that it takes, you only need lots and lots of practice!”. Jerry did his best to please Tyra as she made his tiny head bob forwards and backwards giving her pleasure. He also had to suck the bulbous tip of her clit making her moan with pleasure.

After pleasing Tyra orally, Jerry was used as a living dildo several times too. Tyra manipulated his tiny body in and out her moist pussy reaching climax after climax. Meanwhile, Jerry fought to breathe as he was pushed and pulled in and out of Tyra’s vagina relentlessly.

That night, Jerry had nightmares about being swallowed alive by giant mouths. He woke up several times covered in sweat and panting. He was very concerned about his future, becoming a sex toy for horny teen giantesses was awful but he had no choices at that time. He had to finish highschool as soon as possible and leave to study at an all-boy college so he could be safe.

The next morning at school, Jerry arrived early, hoping to slip into his classroom unnoticed. His body still ached from the previous day's "welcome" from Tyra and her friends—bruises on his ribs, a lingering soreness in places he didn't want to think about. He clutched his tiny backpack (scaled for males, of course) and darted between the massive desks that towered like skyscrapers around him. The ground shook faintly with each step of the giantess students arriving, their laughter booming like thunder overhead.

He made it to the male section—a cordoned-off area on the floor near the teacher's podium, with tiny benches and a protective railing to prevent accidental squishings. A few other boys were already there, whispering nervously. One of them, a skinny kid named Mark, waved him over.

"Dude, you look wrecked," Mark said, eyeing Jerry's disheveled hair and the faint red marks on his neck. "Tyra's crew got you good yesterday, huh? Word spreads fast. They posted those vids in the group chat."

Jerry groaned, slumping onto a bench. "Yeah. I just want to get through classes without... you know."

Mark chuckled bitterly. "Good luck. Today's biology with Ms. Mounier. She's notorious for using 'volunteers' in her demos."

Before Jerry could ask what that meant, the classroom door swung open with a massive creak. In strode Ms. Mounier, the biology teacher—a stunning 52-foot giantess with curves that could crush cities and long auburn hair cascading down her back. She wore a tight blouse that strained against her enormous breasts and a skirt that ended mid-thigh, revealing legs like marble columns. The class of giantess girls cheered as she entered, their voices a chorus of excitement.

"Good morning, class!" Ms. Mounier boomed, her voice warm but commanding. She placed her massive purse on the desk, causing the floor to vibrate. Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on the male pen. "And good morning to our little pets down there. I see we have a new addition—Jerry, is it?"

Jerry froze as her gigantic face loomed closer, peering down through the railing. Her green eyes sparkled with amusement, and her full lips curved into a smile that sent a chill down his spine.

"Y-yes, Ms. Mounier," he stammered, his voice tiny even to the other boys.

"How adorable. Stand up, sweetie. Let the class see you."

The giantess girls giggled, leaning forward for a better look. Jerry reluctantly stood, feeling exposed under dozens of colossal gazes.

"Class," Ms. Mounier announced, "today we're covering human anatomy—specifically, male physiology in relation to female arousal and reproduction. Since we have such willing little subjects, I thought a hands-on demonstration would be perfect."

The class erupted in excited whispers. "Teacher's pet time!" one girl shouted.

Ms. Mounier reached down with manicured fingers the size of tree trunks and plucked Jerry from the pen effortlessly. He dangled helplessly in her grip, her warm palm enveloping his entire body. The scent of her perfume—sweet and overpowering—washed over him as she lifted him to eye level.

"Don't worry, Jerry," she purred, her breath hot against his skin. "You'll be my special assistant today. The girls need to learn how to properly handle and stimulate their pets."

She carried him to the front of the class and placed him gently—but firmly—on her desk, right next to a massive textbook open to diagrams of giantess reproductive systems. The desk surface was like a vast plain to him, and Ms. Mounier's body loomed behind it like a living mountain.

"First lesson: external stimulation," she said, addressing the class while unbuttoning the top of her blouse. Her enormous breasts spilled forward slightly, casting shadows over Jerry. "Males can be quite effective at teasing sensitive areas."

With a wink to the giggling students, she scooped Jerry up again and pressed him against one of her hardening nipples through the fabric. The nub was already the size of his head, swelling under his tiny struggles.

"Rub and lick, pet," she commanded softly but firmly. "Show the class how it's done."

Jerry hesitated, but her fingers squeezed just enough to remind him of his place. Heart pounding, he began massaging the massive nipple with his hands and tongue, feeling it grow even larger and firmer. Ms. Mounier let out a low moan that echoed through the room, making the girls squeal in delight.

"Good boy," she cooed. "See how responsive they are, class? With practice, your pets can make you feel incredible without even penetrating."

But Jerry knew this was just the beginning. As the lesson progressed, Ms. Mounier's "demonstrations" grew more intimate—sliding him under her skirt for "clitoral sensitivity training," then using him to illustrate "internal vaginal exploration." By the end of class, he was drenched again, exhausted, and marked as the new teacher's pet.

As the bell rang and Ms. Mounier casually dropped him back into the pen—promising "extra credit" sessions after school—the other boys patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Welcome to Giantess High," Mark muttered. "It only gets worse from here."

Jerry rounded the corner of the east hallway too quickly—right into the path of a wall of smooth, dark skin and the faint scent of coconut lotion mixed with fresh sweat from morning practice.

Tyra.

The ebony cheerleader towered even when she was just standing still, her long legs stretching up forever beneath the short pleated skirt of her uniform. Her full lips curved into a slow, knowing smile the moment she spotted him. Yesterday's memories slammed into Jerry like a physical blow: the suffocating heat of her pussy grinding down on him until he could barely breathe, the humiliating stretch as she'd forced him deeper still, using his entire wriggling body to tease her anus until she'd shuddered and flooded him with her release. He'd been drenched, trembling, discarded on her locker-room bench like a used tissue.

"Hello, toy," Tyra purred, bending at the waist until her face filled his entire field of vision. Her breath was warm vanilla and mint gum. Before he could back away, plush lips engulfed his head and shoulders in a single, sloppy kiss—soft, wet pressure that smeared gloss across his hair and cheeks.

"Did you dream about me?" she murmured against his scalp, tongue flicking out to lap at him like he was a lollipop. Long, deliberate strokes dragged from his collarbone to his forehead, leaving glistening trails. "I bet you did. I dreamt about having you deep inside again... and again... stretching me just right."

"No—please!" Jerry's voice cracked, small and frantic. "No more. I can't—"

Tyra's laughter rumbled through him like distant thunder. "You have to get used to it, little Jerry. You're my favorite toy now." Her fingers—long, manicured, impossibly strong—curled around his torso. She lifted him effortlessly, squeezing just enough to make his ribs creak and his lungs fight for air. He squirmed instinctively, legs kicking in the open air, which only made her giggle again, low and delighted.

"You think you can escape me?" she teased, bringing him close enough that her thick eyelashes brushed his face like dark feathers. "I don't have time to play with you right now... but I'll see you after school." Her grip tightened—a warning pulse that sent pain spiking through his chest. "And if you try to hide or run? You'll regret it."

She leaned in again. This time the kiss was slower, more possessive: full lips dragging across his entire upper body, sucking lightly, tongue swirling until every inch of him was coated in warm saliva. He tasted salt and artificial strawberry. When she pulled back, a thin string of spit connected her lower lip to his drenched shirt.

"You're so tasty," she whispered, eyes half-lidded with hunger. "I'm gonna enjoy playing with you later... so much."

Jerry trembled violently inside the tight cage of her fist, heart hammering so hard he thought it might bruise his own ribs. Tyra studied him for a long moment—licking her thick, glossy lips like a cat savoring the anticipation of a kill—then finally opened her hand.

He dropped the last few inches to the tile floor in a sprawl, gasping, clothes clinging wetly to his skin. Tyra straightened to her full, impossible height, skirt swaying as she adjusted her cheer bag over one shoulder.

"Run along to class, toy," she called after him, voice light and amused. "Don't be late. I'll know if you are."

Jerry scrambled up and bolted, legs shaky, the hallway lights blurring through the saliva still dripping into his eyes. He could feel her gaze burning into his back the entire way to his locker—like a predator deciding exactly when to pounce.

He didn't dare look behind him. He just kept moving, pulse roaring in his ears, already dreading the lunch break that would come far too soon.

The quad waited outside those double doors. Four senior giantesses already lounging in their circle. Fresh meat always drew attention eventually.

And Tyra would be watching.

During the lunch break, four colossal senior girls had claimed the center of the yard, sitting cross-legged in a loose circle like bored goddesses at a picnic. Each one cradled boys in their enormous hands—two or three per palm—while others squirmed helplessly between thighs thicker than Jerry's entire torso. Every male student in their grasp had his pants and underwear yanked down to his ankles, fabric bunched uselessly around skinny legs that kicked feebly in mid-air.

The giantesses worked with lazy, competitive enthusiasm, their glossy lips enveloping one tiny cock after another. They were running a cruel contest: who could force the most unwilling orgasms in the shortest time. Wet, rhythmic sucking sounds filled the air, punctuated by the boys' choked gasps and involuntary whimpers. The girls' cavernous mouths seemed bottomless; no matter how small the offering, they swallowed eagerly, tongues curling with casual expertise.

Only one of them—the dark-haired girl Jerry recognized from third-period English—refrained from sucking. She lounged with her phone raised, recording every humiliated twitch and spurt in crisp 4K. Between her meaty thighs lay the "used" boys: sprawled, sweat-soaked, chests heaving, eyes glassy with exhaustion. Their cocks hung limp and reddened, still twitching from overstimulation. They knew the break wasn't over. The bell was still minutes away, and the girls weren't finished playing.

Laughter rolled from the circle like thunder. After each boy shuddered and spilled into a waiting mouth, the giantess would pull back, stick out her tongue to display the pearly evidence, then casually flick the spent victim onto her lap like a discarded toy. Another would be plucked up immediately, pants already down, body trembling in pre-emptive dread.

"Another one!" the beautiful blonde crowed, pink tongue glistening as she displayed four tiny white flecks. "That's my fourth straight—beat that, bitches."

The athletic brunette smirked around the cock currently filling her mouth. She pulled off with a wet pop just long enough to brag: "Third for me. This little guy's shaking already—gonna make it quick." She dove back down, cheeks hollowing.

"I'm keeping official count," the phone girl announced in a mock-serious tone. "No cheating." She zoomed in on a fresh victim, then lowered her head to tease his balls with slow, deliberate licks before engulfing him entirely.

Jerry stood frozen at the edge of the quad, half-hidden behind a bench that barely reached the girls' shins. He recognized them all—classmates he'd only met a week ago when he transferred from the all-boys academy. Back there, the worst thing that happened was a locker-room towel snap. Here…

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the sounds drilled into him anyway: wet slurps, helpless male moans rising into desperate cries, the girls' amused giggles vibrating through the ground. Every involuntary twitch of pleasure from those boys felt like a betrayal—of dignity, of resistance, of any hope that this school would be different.

His heart hammered against his ribs. He could already imagine those same enormous fingers wrapping around his waist, lifting him like a doll, hot breath washing over him as a voice purred, "New boy wants a turn?"

Jerry pressed himself lower, praying the bell would ring before they noticed fresh meat standing alone.

Jerry's luck ran out the moment he tried to back away. A shadow fell over him—enormous, inevitable—and before he could bolt, warm fingers thicker than his legs curled gently but inescapably around his waist. The blonde giantess lifted him skyward with the casual flick of someone plucking a stray french fry.

"Look what we have here," she purred, her voice vibrating through his ribcage. "Fresh transfer boy. You've been watching us like you wanted an invitation."

The others turned, eyes lighting up with predatory delight. Jerry's stomach lurched as he was passed hand-to-hand like a living toy—each palm dwarfing his body, soft skin warm and faintly scented with vanilla body spray and something muskier. He kicked uselessly, shoes dangling, pants already half-tugged down by the time he landed in the brunette's grip.

"No—no, please—" His protest dissolved into a yelp as she brought him to her face. Her breath washed over him in a hot, humid gust, lips parting to reveal a cavernous mouth that could swallow him whole if she wanted. Instead, she lowered him lower, aligning his exposed groin with her waiting tongue.

The first contact was electric—wet heat enveloping him completely, tongue curling with terrifying precision. She sucked gently at first, then harder, the suction pulling involuntary shudders from deep in his core. Jerry's hands scrabbled against her lower lip, fingers sinking into plush flesh that gave like warm dough. His body betrayed him almost immediately; pressure built too fast, too intensely. He came with a strangled cry, hips jerking against nothing as she hummed in approval, the vibration ripping another helpless spasm from him.

She pulled back just long enough to flash a triumphant grin, a thin string of saliva connecting her lip to his twitching length. "One down. Who's next?"

They passed him like a party favor. The blonde took him next—her technique slower, more teasing, tongue flicking in lazy circles until he was whimpering, begging incoherently for it to stop and never stop. She swallowed his second orgasm with exaggerated relish, showing the others the evidence on her tongue before flicking him onward.

The dark-haired girl with the phone set it down for her turn. She cradled him between her breasts first—soft, warm pillows that smothered his cries—then lowered him to her mouth. Her blowjob was methodical, almost clinical: long, deep pulls that milked him relentlessly until number three tore through him, leaving him limp and gasping.

By the fourth, Jerry could barely form thoughts. The last giantess—quiet until now—took him with surprising gentleness that somehow made it worse. She cradled his exhausted body in one palm while her tongue worked him over with slow, insistent strokes. His overstimulated nerves screamed; every touch was too much and not enough. He came again—dry this time, just painful spasms that left him trembling and spent.

They laughed softly as they set him down between them, pants tangled around his ankles, body slick with saliva and sweat. Jerry curled into a fetal position on the grass, chest heaving, every muscle quivering. Less than fifteen minutes. Four times. His mind felt foggy, distant, like the world had narrowed to the ache between his legs and the thunder of giant footsteps.

The bell rang—sharp, merciful.

"Aww, science class," the blonde cooed, nudging him lightly with a fingertip the size of his torso. "Better get going, little guy. Don't want to be late on your first week."

Jerry staggered to his feet, yanking his clothes up with shaking hands. Cum and spit soaked through the fabric; his legs felt like jelly. He could feel their amused gazes on his back as he stumbled toward the building, each step a reminder of how small, how helpless he truly was here.

The hallway loomed ahead—normal-sized doors that now felt like escape hatches. Science class waited. More giantesses. More eyes. More chances to be noticed.

He swallowed hard and kept walking, already dreading the next break.

TO BE CONTINUED…

 

Jungle Worship 1

 

Images inspired from the Dear Log Story

 

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.