Sephalla, My Nightmare Ch. 08

'Easy,' Sephalla says, cheeks aglow now. 'I don't want to blow in your mouth, dude. That bum is mine.'

I lick my lips, nodding up at her as I angle the front of her phallus towards my mouth. A beautiful tip for a beautiful organ, monstrous and magical, horse-like yet demonic at once. Her thick cum-vein culminates in a little protruding orifice, nestled at the centre of three faintly puffy lustrous segments within that stellated ring, the whole thing vaguely shaped like a love heart. Already leaking, I can't resist the urge to taste her juices.

'Ooh. Fuck. You're such a--ugh--slut, Jake.'

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Mlep. Schlup.

I press my tongue against the cute little opening, getting a basting of salty-smokiness, virile and divine. But it's impossible to hold back. Keeping my tip nestled against her cum-hole, I lean forwards and engulf her equid helmet with my hungry lips, resulting in a healthy helping of that oily delicious dick juice as the sheer heat and hugeness of her glans stuffs my mouth, effortlessly asserting itself.

'Aah. Good mare. Take care you of your--ugh--stallion.'

'Mhm-hm.'

Schlack. Schlurp.

Sephalla plays with my hair as I steadily bob my head, a little forward and a little back, feeling out the carnal contours of her futanari flare with my tongue. Her member is so fat and silken, throbbing ferociously, oozing such deliciousness. I glance up at her, finding dominance, finding control, despite her enjoyment. Fuck, taking turns at this is good. To submit is fun, to dominate is fun, and here there's the luxury of both. Here, with my nightmare, I'm in my element.

'Ugh. Gods, yes.'

'Mumph. Mhm.'

I slowly stroke her pole, focussing my twisting tastebuds against the blunt face of her prick, digging about in that crevice where all the stickiness leaks forth, easily getting the tip of my tongue into her cum-hole. The humungous horse cock bucks and strains at my hands, swollen to the point of intimidating vastness, and I'm stupendously excited to have it inside of me. A little scared, sure, but who wouldn't be? The excitement, all the same, is far greater.

Schlep. Schluck. Slurp.

'Ughn. Good mare. Good cocksucker.'

She pats my head, happy to leave me to it. Those eyes are alluringly alight right now, glowing with glee. Smug as fuck, because why shouldn't she be? The way I move my mouth, apply my tongue, tease at her length my hands, says all that Sephalla needs to know. That her body is fit for worship, and this is my preferred form of acknowledgement. That after this, even without gulping down a heavy load of horse-demon "milk", she'll be able to smell herself on my breath, and take perverse pride in the fact that my mouth is so readily utilised as a prick-pleaser.

'When we get back to--mhm--my place, I'll feed you,' Sephalla says, groping my scalp. 'I don't want you to eat anything but my cum, when I'm playing Mistress, okay?'

My mouth makes a pleasing schplop when I pull away for a moment. 'That's not fair.'

'Why? You love it.'

'Sure, but...I can't make the same demand of you.' Mwah. I kiss her helmet, and smirk. 'We need to schedule this shit. Weekly rotation?'

'I raise the idea of feeding you nothing but semen, and you want a week of that?' Seph rolls her eyes, but the expression is clear: yes, please. 'If you want, loser. But the week starts today, on my end.'

'You didn't answer the other question!'

Sephalla clicks her tongue. 'Fine. I...I'm pretty sure the reverse would work as well. Given that you shoot a lot more than you used to.'

'So I could literally just have a week of you on your knees, blowing me all day while I game and stuff?'

Her tail swishes violently, smoking away behind her perfect hips. 'You wouldn't want that. No. We can't. Um...'

'Mistress. You're my stallion right now, remember?'

Sephalla nods, nostrils widening to exhale a pair of smoke plumes. 'Yeah. Yes. Loser.'

Smooch. She shudders as I kiss the delicious tip of her dick. 'I look forward to you feeding me, Mistress. A whole week sounds great.'

She moves violently, all of a sudden. Even with my enhanced state of being Sephalla remains the genuine demon, while I'm just the hanger-on, the cum-enhanced extra. The towering inferno handily takes me by the shoulders and topples us, her great strength and weight easily forcing me back against the floor, though at least at the point of impact my spooge-powered durability proves useful.

'I'm going to fuck you,' Seph says, exhales smoke and flame, her tail whipping about behind her. 'I'm going to use your body like a fucking cocksleeve, slut. You're going to love it.'

She grinds her mammoth member against my chest, up towards my chin, its heat and heaviness pleasant but, with her vastness set atop me, I'm struck by the stark mismatch between our sizes. Sephalla's sheath, the base of her belligerent bulk, begins below my groin, yet her flared tip happily prods against the underside of my jaw. If she were to go balls deep inside of me, I'd be a dick-impaled shish-kebab.

'Mistress,' I say, gaze flicking between her proud powerful body, inspiring as it does such a natural sense of submission to counterbalance my fierce urge to make her into my own dick-serving slut, 'I'm a little worried. You're...going to end up in my throat.'

'Would that be so wrong?' Sephalla cups the top of my head, plays with my hair. Her grin is glorious, baleful, showing off those resplendent fangs. God, I am so fucking attracted to her, whichever way around we play this game. 'Going all the way through?'

'I...I want your cum inside me, Mistress. Not spilling out of my mouth.'

The nightmare chuckles, the dominance shifting to make way for rich sensual humour. 'Good news, loser. It doesn't work like that. Your body will accommodate me, every inch, and I'll spill a hundred trillion foals right into that belly of yours.'

I waver under her stare. Hot as fuck, but the implication is unsettling. 'Um, Seph, I don't...'

'I'm not getting you pregnant, Jake,' she says, rolling her eyes. 'Jeez, dude. That'd completely ruin my breeding fantasies anyway.' The naughty nightmare chews on her lower lip, grinds her length against me again. 'Though...that weekly rota might need some thought.'

'Oh?'

'I just mean that, if I get all fat and motherly with your foals in a few years, I don't think I'll want to be dominating you. Not for the duration.'

I know I shouldn't. Know I mustn't. But the way her profoundly fat titties jiggle faintly above me, so soft and squishy as they are, demands my attention. So much so that I can't help but reach up and press my palms against their clothed halos, piercings and erect nipples beneath pressing against my skin. God, they're so fucking heavy. So engulfing, cushioning, warm and wonderful. Even if she ends up submissive, in the throes of pregnancy, this beautiful body will still find a way to feed me, I'm sure.

'Jake...'

It's cute, how hard she finds it. How hard I think we both do. I can look up at the glorious goddess that is my nightmare and be so intimidated, so naturally bound to submit to her overt sexual needs, but at the same time I see my woman, see my pet, see my plaything, see a mare of my own. And maybe it's better this way?

No, not maybe. It's definitely better.

'I might have to just keep you pregnant then,' I say, licking my lips. 'A slutty obedient horse-demon, at my beck and call? I can't imagine a finer fate.'

She exhales sharply, smoke and brimstone. 'Bad boy.' With effortless strength, the towering inferno brushes away my hands and pins me against the floor by the throat. 'I'm going to get you back for that disobedience.'

It's rather incredible how she can press down against my neck for support, but not actually choke me. I really am that much sturdier, for her fat-headed demon-horse dick tadpoles splattering across the immaterial nature of my soul.

Sephalla uses her free hand with elegant rapidity to pull away my trousers, passingly groping the bulging tent in my boxers as she does so. I half-expect some remark about size, but we both know it wouldn't work. Human I may be, but my nightmare has a soft spot for such "limitations."

'You're going to be a fine cocksleeve, loser,' Seph says, digging her fingers into the waistband of my boxer shorts. 'Once I'm done with your body, it'll be fit only for taking demon dick.'

I gasp as she pulls down my underwear in one fell stroke, lifting herself up and away from me so as to get the appropriate angle for an anal assault. As the lurid length of equid-demon futa meat drags back across my gut, a lump of nerves bundles up behind my tonsils, thankfully at no risk of being dislodged by that impaling invader once she jams it up inside of me.

'Yes, Mistress. Please...please be gentle.'

And like that, things are under her control again. The delicious demoness rises up onto her knees, parting them wide and spreading my thighs in turn. Sephalla the Magnificent pushes down on her prodigious prick, wedging its blunt head beneath my nuts, provoking an alluring tremble as its heat and stickiness make themselves known to that particularly vulnerable, virginal spot.

'Should I be?'

I go to speak and move my lips, but she begins sloughing clothes. Her jacket first, cast aside, and then she pulls up her t-shirt to free the massive magnificence of those R-cup mammaries, nipples glistening with bar piercings, azure areolas wide and enticingly puffy against the velvet black-blue fur that otherwise makes up her body.

Sephalla chuckles, watching my smallness with obvious excitement. That my height, my humanity, can on the one hand make her submission sweeter, her dominance delectable, never ceases to please either of us. And here, it gives her free reign to be the alpha, to be the stallion, to be the one who takes for her own sake.

'Cat got your tongue, loser?'

'Please be gentle...at first.'

The nightmare winks at me. 'Maybe. Maybe not.'

Fully naked now, I feel passingly unworthy. Her body is a monument to the utmost gorgeousness, glorious in its shape. A fusion of equid anthropomorph and delicious demoness, huge in all her healthy femininity, mighty in all her muscled masculinity. A dual fusion, first as a nightmare, second as a futanari. The duality is a fine thing, the finest.

God, she's incredible. Incredible, and mine. Mine alone.

I suck in a breath as she moves, lining herself up with the virginal tightness between my cheeks. Her fat-headed horse cock, blunt and burning blissfully where it presses against the delicateness of that unexplored entrance, leaves behind a glaze of lubricating precum as it runs up and down against my arsehole. With or without, however, I'm fairly certain that this is going to be fine. That this will, in fact, be much better than fine.

Particularly as she takes hold of my hips, hands strong and arm muscles bulging faintly beneath the appealing blue-blackness of her velvet fine fur.

'This is going to be tight at first,' Seph says, prodding and poking. Her flared thickness readily barges aside my buttocks, her gigantic glans threatening my small sphincter. She laughs, a touch meanly. 'It'll be tight after, too, but tight at first, as well.'

I don't get a chance to hit back with any snark of my own, because the moment she presses down on my hips and pushes her way inside of me, any words are reduced to ridiculous groans and grunts.

'Ughn.'

'Fuck. Really tight. Mhm.'

Tight? Tight doesn't begin to describe it. Tight is like clothes that are too clinging to your arms, or trying to get through a gap between trees. This isn't tight. This is like having a pleasure bomb explode behind your cock, a kind of ecstatic eruption of sheer heat and sensuality, something that the body does its utmost to contain but simply can't.

'Oh. Shit.'

It'd be embarrassing to watch my cock pop, shooting fat ropes of jism across my t-shirt -- which is obviously black, because I'm an idiot and didn't think to remove it -- from nothing more than the entrance of Sephalla's magnificent member into my exit, but the pleasure is like little else on Earth. The sense of fullness, the sense of being split down the middle by this salacious sword, this lusty lance, completely removes all interest in pathetic irrelevant things like "embarrassment."

The nightmare continues to press her hips forwards, to drive her devilish dick into my rear, causing my t-shirt to shift and distort as that belly bulge swims beneath it, like something villainous making its way under a duvet cover. Thup. Her wickedly weighty loins bump against the mat on the floor, making a sweet sound, at odds with the sheer dominion she's exerting over me with the faintest of efforts.

'Aahn. We're doing this--ugh--every fucking day this week, you cumdump,' Seph says, exhaling smoke and flame, sharpened teeth on show between those perversely parted full lips. 'Your arse is mine, slut. My--mhm--property.'

'Guh. Ughn.'

I'm powerless. I grab at her wrists for support, provoking only lurid laughter as she grows larger and larger above me, inches upon inches of that humungous horse schlong disappearing into my guts, sliding that big bulge beneath my shirt all the way up to my sternum. The spreading heat of it, mystical and marvellous, pairs with its powerful pulsating, its threatening throbbing thickness. Glorious girth and fiery fullness, milking me dry, emptying my balls and conquering my innards as her living-flame blue pubes move towards me to warm my dangling nuts, her glossy black sheath soon to press its firm rigid ring against my own carnal circle.

It's only there that Sephalla pauses her advance, the sheer bulk of that band like a carnal kiss of its own, ring on ring. The nightmare licks at her lips, eyes aglow, and she chuckles.

'All the way up to the sheath,' Seph says, smirking salaciously. 'You really are a cocksleeve.'

I nod, blowing my top, a mess of a man. 'Y-es, Mistress. I'm you're mare. Your cocksleeve.'

'Mhm. Good boy, but...we can go further. Up to the very--ugh--hilt.'

The urgency of that rigid ring, pressing against my risqué rim, creates a fleeting fear. But there's no pain, as she pushes even that into me. No discomfort, only pleasure. Whatever rules apply here happily allow three feet of futanari to disappear into my arse and do nothing grander than give me a boner-bump up the length of my belly, while leaving me unable to do anything but groan and grunt, at her mercy, squeezing at her sturdy wrists for the faintest hope of sanity.

'Take it. Take my--ugh--dick.'

My eyes go wide as she pulls back, half of her length leaving me, only to grin with malicious majesty and slam herself forwards anew. Plup. Thwap. Sephalla's heavenly hips, a point of softness in this momentary madness of intense impalement, slam against the tops of my thighs, and her sextet of boulder-like balls wallop against the underside of my bum, their weight logically painful paired given the force with which they swing, and yet simply continuing to instil this sense of sublime submission to this being that suits dominance so very well.

Plap. Thwup.

'Ugh. Seph.'

'Mistress,' she says, correcting me. Sephalla moves a hand from my wrist to the middle of my chest, coal-seam eyes flicking between my own and my sternum, a smile building bolder and bolder with every thrust, with every instance of that vulgar bulge pressing up against the underside of her palm. 'You're my pet, Jake. My cumdump. So what am I?'

'My M-istress!'

'Mhm. Louder, you filthy fucking mare.'

'My Mistress! Ughn. Mistress Mag-nificent.'

It's a blessing that she's made me so durable, because besides the sheer power of her preternatural penis, I manage to slam my head back against the floor and crack the concrete instead of my skull, completely awash with this captivating crudeness that continues to cover my black fucking shirt in ropes and strands of doubtlessly staining spooge.

Plup. Thwap. Plap. Thwup.

'Good boy. Good cumslut. Ugh. Aah.'

Sephalla slams, in and out, in and out, boring into me. For all of her womanliness, it's her cock that mesmerises me most thoroughly, distracting with its devilish depravity, the way it possesses such lascivious length no matter how far she draws back, at any given moment driving multiple feet of futanari phallus right into the core of me, right into the metaphysical realm of my soul.

Somehow, my vision doesn't fade. Somehow, despite the white-hot cataclysm befalling me, the blissful brilliance of a kind of pleasure that only the seductive semen-demon can elicit, I stay fully conscious and aware. Dumbstruck, struggling for anything beyond basic instructed answers and a whole lot of mewling moaning, but conscious all the same.

'Ughn. F-uck.'

Her breasts bounce about, their wonderful weightiness somehow...muted? I keep struggling with her abundantly alluring femininity, in the heat of this moment. Keep realising just how much I love her fat futanari demon-horse dick. I'm sure Sephalla could dominate me with her womanly parts, but it feels very much like our dirty dance here consists of a submission to the male side of her futanari nature. To that virile horned smoke-snorting beast, muscular and magnificent, titanic in stature and raw rapacious strength.

'Ugh. Cute little--mhm--slut.'

The towering inferno runs her hands up my body, one trailing the other, and ultimately dips forwards onto her elbows such that I find myself staring up at her sensuously swaying chest, that pillowy perfect pair thupping against my cheeks as she continues to take me, to urge her hips back and forth without doing much to leave my body.

Plip. Thup. Plip. Thup.

'Guh. Ugh.'

Her humungous balls, that sack of six plump oranges, gently bounce and bumps against my butt cheeks, but not half so noticeably as I'd like. Too little contact, too little room. I'll need to...need to angle myself better. Need to...

'Naughty cumdump,' Seph says, chuckling breathily. 'Who told you to do--ugh--that?'

I'm surprised I manage it. Surprised I'm limber enough, packed full of abyssal equid meat, to throw up my feet and get a grip on her hips on the first attempt. And from there it's just a matter of straining, stretching as best I can, to wedge my ankles against her curves and just about lock my legs around her beautiful baleful body.

The endless ejaculation hasn't abated, but it's not left me quite so braindead as I might've thought. Continual pulses, creamy conclusions, like a bath of bliss for the soul.

'I l-ove you, Mistress. I only want to--ughn--please y-ou.'

The nightmare laughs. 'Don't I know it, loser. Your body's--mhm--milking me. It craves what only its--aah stallion can give it.'

Plip. Thup. Plip. Thup.

The angle proves sufficient to bask in the bulbous bouncing of those big bad bollocks, my upturned arse giving them a suitable landing pad to smack against with every downward thrusting of her mighty hips. Driving her demon dick into the depths of me, Sephalla makes my belly bulge unnaturally, nowhere near the size it should reach given her vastness. And little by little, as her fat tits engulf my face, as her loins pulse and shudder with each slap against my skin, she's getting close. Getting closer to pumping me full of her perversely perfect penile pride.

I don't even think to kiss and motorboat, to do anything other than relish the warming darkness of her enormously enveloping breasts, pounded into orgasmic oblivion by my mate, my stallion, my mistress.

'We're fucking--guh--doing this again,' Seph says, hilting herself up to that wildly alive patch of azure flame, in the process sending my eyes into the tops of their orbits. 'You're such a fucking--mhm--mare, slut.'

'Y-es, Mistress. A mare for y-ou. Only for y-ou.'

'Good boy. Good--ughn--fuck!'

Her cock rumbles, spits. The eruptive ejaculation surges forth, spilling into that nether-realm that doesn't quite exist, a body within a body, orifice within orifice. My gut immediately begins to swell, beyond the sizeable shape of her schlong. Building and building, fatter and fatter, plugged to the very limits with her thick squirming demonic dick milk.