Her Royal Pet Ch. 04

'So virile,' she says. 'So manly. But you misunderstand how things work, boy. Let mummy make a thing or two clear.'

She reaches backwards and grips my cock, sparks of violet darkness lighting it up, growing it to full rigidity and making my teeth rattle. Powerless, exhausted, I can do nothing as she sits herself back upon my manhood, plunging it again into the sloppy pink paradise between her thighs.

'Ugh. Shit.'

The Queen rises and falls, rises and falls, the weight of her body pinning me as she milks my cock with her succubus womanhood. Her fat backside slaps against me, wobbles about, the heaviness of it and the way it jiggles and shudders a wonderful sight if not for the primal fear that grips me alongside the depravity of such dangerous pleasure.

'You are my pet,' the Witch Queen says. 'You are--mhm--here as a guest. Here to be treated so well, treated as a son and a toy, but if I am to grow fat with your seed, it will not be because you trade me your loyalty for such a fate.'

She drops her full weight and I gasp, suck in the sweet tang of our fucking, the arcane glory of her sex. The Mother of Mothers gyrates her fertile hips, those big balls of hers slapping against the tops of my thighs, that ravenous cunt setting my cock aflame as it slurps and drains my body of all sense and reason.

I try to push her off, but I'm nothing. Powerless. All that I did, all that I thought I was doing, was nothing but a show. 'Mother...'

The Queen chuckles and pumps her body up and down on me, the pleasant sound of flesh slapping atop flesh muted by the white noise furore of my head scrambling to comprehend such impossible heights of pleasure.

'You're just a little boy,' she says. 'And have no right fertilising a god.'

'Ughn.'

'But that is not to say I do not want such. Mhm.'

'Ugh. Gah.'

'It is simply that you are not ready yet. Not this night. Not as you are.'

She squeezes again and the world explodes, balls that felt empty producing another monstrous once-in-a-lifetime load that has her licking her lips as her body sucks it clean out of me, devouring my essence and absorbing it utterly into her own.

'You taste so, so good,' the Witch Queen says. 'Perhaps it's my lack of activity, but I don't think I ever before relished a man's seed as I do yours.'

She rises and turns about, facing me.

I can do little but stare, paralysed by the shock of it all, the sheer ecstasy of her lusts, as I behold her incredible and unusual body. The Witch Queen hovers her hips above the tip of my yet-hard length, her full-figured motherly form creamy and perfect in its show of beautiful agedness. Her heavy breasts sag gently, huge things with bluish veins and pale pink areolae suitably sized for such large bosoms. The living darkness of her hair coils and sways, and her amethyst eyes crackle with the energies of creation. She wears a salacious smile, a thing that could claim any heart with but a whisper of her succubus voice.

But for all her divine appeal, I am ill at ease with her other genitals. Her big pale balls droop and faintly shift, each larger than my own. The penis that they sit below is mammoth, easily twice as thick and twice as long as my own, and size has never been a worry of mine. White and veiny, the thing's ruby tip is exposed, a fat crown of regal and imposing character well-suited to a monarch.

'You are ever so handsome,' the Queen says, resting a hand upon my stomach, stroking circles upon my flesh. 'My little warrior, so brave and noble.' Her smile gains a mischief, hints at white teeth, the canines appearing as vague fangs. 'Help me finish, sweetheart. Call me Mother. Tell me you want to shoot all of those excitable little sperms up inside of Mother. Up inside Mother's womb.'

We are filth, aren't we? That this woman is so much older, twice my age by appearance and far beyond that in truth, only excites me. The appeal of the older woman is strong by itself, but to play this dirty game, this pretend incestuous carnality, and to incorporate the notion of impregnation into the mix...

I'm not sure where the strength comes from, but I manage to lift my hands, which she promptly seizes and places on her wide womanly hips. 'Mother...I want to fill your womb with my sperm. I want to...to impregnate you, my Mother.'

She chuckles and spears herself on me, the glorious wet heat of her innards forcing my back to arch and my whole body to writhe and tremble. I'm barely aware of her fat balls sagging against my belly, or that ruby-tipped ivory erection so unusual and intimidating.

'Right where you belong, my sweet handsome boy. Mhm.'

I shut my eyes, grit my teeth, melting anew between her thighs. The Witch Queen puts her hands upon my chest and lowers herself forwards, throbbing cock coming to rest across my belly, heaving chest sagging down against my own as she takes hold of my shoulders and begins to gyrate her powerful motherly hips.

She slides her hands behind my neck and starts to slowly pump her body atop mine, heavy breasts dragging back and forth upon my chest, huge cock grinding against my belly and almost up at my pecs, hanging balls wobbling against my lower gut. And when I open my eyes our faces are so close, her black hair floating of its own accord, violet lightning alive in both her eyes and surrounding the black tendrils.

'May I kiss you?' the Mother of Mothers says. With eyes aflutter, I nod. 'Wonderful.'

Such a simple thing, given what we've shared. Simple, and yet earth-shattering. The lustiness of our joining is made sweeter, grander, by the inclusion of her voluptuous-lipped mouth upon my own, the sweet electrifying taste of her spit, the muscular warm compassion of her loving tongue.

The Queen gyrates her hips and I squeeze the fat of their curves, fingers sinking into the warm pleasant abyss of her playground body. Our movements -- I find myself instinctively thrusting, albeit slow and exhausted -- produce a low slick sloppiness, the suction sounds of her divinely sensual pussy and the weighty fleshiness of her big breasts and big balls shifting. And now the smooching, the passionate play of face on face, tongue on tongue, adding to the carnal orchestra.

'Mhm-hm.' The moan is shared, a thing neither can claim as solely theirs. Our kissing completes the union, makes weirdly romantic what is otherwise pure bestial drives. In making out with her like this, in plying her perfect form as I gently lift and lower my hips, I am far beyond the point of betrayal. There is in me more than mere lust for this creature.

Oh, for it to be mere lust. Tongue locked with hers, lips upon lips, I cannot pretend that my attraction to the Queen of Queens runs deeper.

'Mhm.'

And my moans, and her moans, tell it true. Does it matter anymore?

I slide my hands up from her hips, desperate to fondle her motherly chest. The Queen chuckles sensually into my mouth as I slip my fingers beneath each plump breast, driving her body against mine, pussy and cock and breasts and balls, as I thrust up between her thighs.

'You must be tired,' the Witch Queen says, taking her mouth from mine. She makes no comment, much as her eyes express such a desire to tease, at the fact that I chase her lips. 'Let Mother feed you, sweetheart.'

She sits upright and I am too far gone. The temptation of those sagging tits, nipples upright points, the pale pink halos on each bumpy and appealing, is greater than my will to maintain whatever amounts to some semblance of self-restraint.

Her sweet cream upon my tongue and the cushioning warmth of her bosom smothering my face makes it straightforward to ignore the huge penis pressing against my belly. The Queen moans sublimely, expertly slamming her hips up and down, milking my cock with her tight dripping womanhood as she breastfeeds me with a massive matronly breast.

As she fills my body, I fill hers. I suck hard on the Witch Queen's teat and I shut my eyes, groaning against her flesh, my balls being drained yet again by her demanding sex. I'm vaguely aware, somehow, that her womb is utterly packed with my semen, which she allows to enter but will not allow to leave. An arcane thought, a realisation she has allowed me.

'Good boy,' she says, beginning to shudder. 'Mummy's very--mhm--good boy.'

The Queen wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a tight embrace, my head buried in her pillowy tits as her body sucks me dry of seed. We fall together, her cock thankfully not producing anything as her lewd pussy leaks down my cock to make a mess of my crotch and thighs. She kisses my head, coming to rest atop me, and nuzzles my hair.

'You can feel them, can't you? You know you're inside of my most private of sanctums, but you also know that your seed will not take.'

I slow my suckling, open my eyes. Her amethyst gaze is naughty, supernaturally captivating. The Queen's cheeks are flush, her living-darkness hair twitching as though electrified.

'But it can, Daniel. I will allow it...but we need to make this real, first.'

Pulling my mouth from her, licking my lips of her sweetness, I say, 'Real how?'

'Real in that I have to become, in the metaphysical sense, your true mother,' the Witch Queen says. 'A process whereby your body, little by little, becomes a shard of my own. And then, when all is done, when you are reborn as my true son...then I will let your seed take root. I will, as your mother, be the mother of your children.'

Betrayer. Traitor. Turncoat.

The thoughts come, but as I stare up at her, I find them easy to deny. Easy to throw aside, in favour of the greater thought, the greater outcome. I have never wanted anything else quite so much as, in this lascivious moment, I want the Empress of Eternity.

I want her to myself.

'What must I do?'

The Queen smiles, and kisses my forehead. 'Sleep, sweetheart. Mother will organise everything, beginning tomorrow evening...'