I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it—that colossal, throbbing cock, a living god of flesh and fire, pulsing with veins like rivers of molten lust.
It was ruin and rapture all at once, the kind of divine monstrosity that demanded obedience, that swore to burn me from the inside out until I was nothing but a quivering wreck of bliss and surrender.
My mouth went dry, tongue sticking to the roof like I’d swallowed sand, only for a torrent of slick drool to surge forth—thick, desperate, choking me on my own hunger as I envisioned my lips stretching around its brutal girth, savoring the briny warmth that would sear its ownership into my very core.
"W-what—how—I mean—Saints above, Iskanda, that’s not—that can’t—explain, please, I’m begging you—" I stammered, words tripping over themselves like drunken fools scrambling for the last drop of liquor in a bottle that was already empty. My voice cracked into high, embarrassing octaves that would’ve made any choir boy sound baritone in comparison.
My hands fluttered uselessly in the air, half-reaching out to touch, half-warding off the overwhelming reality of her massive dick bobbing mere inches from my face.
Iskanda’s hand moved lazy and sure, wrapping around the base of that monstrous shaft and giving it one slow, possessive stroke that made the fat head swell even larger, a fresh bead of precum oozing forth like a personal invitation, winking at me, daring me to shatter completely.
Then she laughed—low and dark, before peeling off the wrap covering her chest with her other hand. Iskanda’s breasts spilled free with a heavy, meaty thwack against her ribcage—full, flushed, dark nipples already peaked and glistening with sweat that caught the firelight like liquid gold.
"Hush now," she cooed, voice like warm honey laced with arsenic, maternal and murderous all at once. "Why don’t you give it a proper greeting?" She paused, letting the silence stretch until it hurt. Then came the command. "Kiss it. Show me how sorry you are for painting my face without permission."
I swallowed hard, throat clicking audibly in the crackling hush of the fireplace, the sound so pathetic it made my cheeks burn brighter than the flames behind me.
Hesitantly—gods, ever so hesitantly—I leaned in, lips trembling as they brushed the fat, flushed head of her cock.
The bead of precum smeared across my mouth like forbidden lipstick—salty, musky, and unmistakably her—marking me, claiming me before I’d even tasted her properly.
Iskanda groaned, deep and guttural, the sound rumbling from her chest like thunder rolling in from a storm I’d been praying for since the moment I laid eyes on her. Her free hand came up to cradle the back of my head like a mother holding her babe.
Her cock steadied then, rising fully, thickening and lengthening right before my wide, watering eyes until it stood proud and monstrous. The head flared wider, angrier, demanding
She chuckled darkly, the sound slithering down my spine and wrapping tight around my balls, squeezing just enough to pull another helpless whine from my throat.
"Oh, my precious little lamb," she purred, hips shifting forward as she begin rutting her length against my face like I was her favorite plaything. "Look at you, already so eager for mommy’s cock, aren’t you? Such a silly, needy baby, humping my leg earlier like a puppy who couldn’t control his little dick—my poor, pathetic darling, you’re absolutely perfect when you’re this desperate."
The heavy, throbbing weight of her cock dragged across my cheek, slow and deliberate, then over my eyelids, my forehead, leaving thick, slick trails of precum that matted my hair and dripped down my temples like obscene, sticky tears marking me as hers.
I whined, high, needy, and utterly shameless, lips parting on pure instinct as she smeared herself all over me, painting my face with her scent, her essence, owning every inch with those lazy, possessive thrusts.
She kept going, rutting harder now, the slick head slapping wetly against my skin, precum stringing between us like filthy webs each time she pulled back just a fraction.
"Nngh—haaa, it’s so big~" I babbled between smacks. My fingers twitched at my sides, body completely paralyzed under the weight of her oppression, her presence, that overwhelming maternal dominance rolling off her in waves.
Deep down I wanted to protest, to fire back something witty or defiant to save the last scraps of my pride, but all that escaped was another broken whimper as she slapped her cock heavy against my cheek again, the wet, meaty sound echoing like applause for how thoroughly she’d already broken me.
She pulled her hips back just enough to aim that dripping, swollen tip right at my nose, smearing the wet, flared head across my nostrils until I was utterly coated. Her musk was thick and intoxicating, like sweat-soaked leather, raw power, and something sweetly dark. Something only she could carry.
"Sniff it," she ordered, voice rough with arousal but laced with that loving command. Her fingers tangled gently in my hair to hold me steady. "Breathe me in—get all nice and dizzy on mommy’s scent. It’s all for you, my greedy little pup."
I obeyed—Saints forgive me, I obeyed instantly—huffing deep, desperate breaths of her musk, that raw, heady cocktail of sweat, precum, and pure, unfiltered Iskanda flooding my lungs until my vision blurred at the edges and my cock throbbed untouched, leaking a steady stream down my thighs.
I panted like a wild puppy, flushed and trembling, cheeks burning brighter as her scent rewired my brain, turning my thoughts to warm, sticky mush and my body into a dripping, cock-hungry mess.
She sensed it—of course she did—and her chuckle turned even darker, richer, promising the kind of ruin that came wrapped in kisses and cuddles.
"That’s it," she cooed mockingly, "get nice and stupid on mommy’s smell. Such a good boy for me—now open up. Show mommy how much her precious little lamb wants to choke on her thick, meaty cock."
I parted my lips, tongue lolling out like the eager, brainless whore she’d reduced me to, saliva pooling thick and dripping down my chin in shameful rivulets.
She gripped my head with both hands, fingers digging into my scalp like loving claws, before ramming her cock down my throat in one brutal, merciless thrust.
"GLRK—!" My forehead smacked against her taut stomach with a dull thud, nose burying deep into the soft, unkept patch of dark hair just above her crotch. It smelled of pure, concentrated sex, power, and the kind of love that was made to kill.
I whimpered around her, choking instantly, throat spasming wildly as that monstrous girth stretched me impossibly wide, burning so perfectly it brought tears to my eyes and made my cock spurt a helpless bead onto the rug.
She pulled my head back just enough for our eyes to meet—hers blazing with dark triumph and twisted affection, mine watering and utterly desperate, pleading for more even as I drowned—before slamming me down again, harder, deeper, claiming every inch of me like a mother reclaiming her wayward child.
She did so again. And again, slower this time, letting me feel every vein drag against my tongue.
My throat burned raw and abused, jaw puffing out obscenely around her girth as she started thrusting her hips in earnest, fucking my face like it was her favorite toy. Her cock smacked wetly against the back of my throat until my brain melted into warm, gooey mush and all I could do was take it without question.
Tears leaked from my eyes in steady, humiliating streams as I watched—helpless and entranced. Thick strings of my saliva coated her shaft, stretching in long, filthy webs between my swollen lips and her bulbous cock every time she pulled back to admire her work.
I needed an anchor, something real to hold onto before I floated away into the haze of her dominance forever. Without a single coherent thought, my hands shot forward, digging desperately into the thick, corded muscle of her thighs, nails scraping red lines into her skin as I clung like a terrified child to the only thing that felt safe.
"That’s it, my sweet baby," she talked me through it, voice rough and soothing all at once, one hand stroking my hair in gentle circles even as the other forced my head down again until my nose ground into her pubic bone. "Take mommy’s cock deep—just like that—fuck, your throat’s squeezing me so perfectly, like you were born for this, born to be my personal cocksleeve. You’re doing so well, darling—I’m so proud." She paused to smirk down at me. "Mommy’s gonna reward you by flooding that pretty belly until you’re warm and full."
I whimpered in preparation, throat fluttering wildly around her, body tensing as she let out one final thrust, her heavy sac slapping my chin with a wet smack.
She roared—actually roared, the sound primal and possessive—before she began flooding me, thick, hot, endless ropes of semen painting my throat white, gushing down into my stomach with wet, obscene gurgles that I felt echoing through my entire body like she was filling me with liquid love.
My eyes squeezed shut, shame and ecstasy crashing together in a wave that broke me open as my own cock—untouched, neglected, absolutely desperate—shot a hot, pathetic spurt of cum right onto the floor between my knees, splattering the rug in weak little ropes while my bussy clenched on nothing, jealous and empty.
She pulled out with a wet, filthy pop that left me coughing and gasping like a broken plaything, thick strings of spit and cum connecting my swollen lips to her still-throbbing cock.
Iskanda cupped my jaw instantly, fingers slick with our combined mess, tilting my face up with that gentle, tenderness that made my heart shatter, her gaze burning with satisfaction, dark promise, and something that looked terrifyingly like love.
"Swallow," she commanded softly, thumb pressing against my lower lip until I opened again like an obedient child. "Be a good boy and drink it all down—let mommy’s seed settle warm in your tummy, right where it belongs."
I did—gods forgive me, I did—gulping down the thick, salty remnants of her load, feeling it coat my ravaged throat and slide heavy into my stomach until I was marked inside and out, claimed so completely I’d never be able to wash her off.
My thoughts screamed at me then, a frantic, hysterical chorus of run, run, run, you absolute idiot,she’s going to destroy every last piece of you and you’re going to thank her for it with your last breath.
My body, the ultimate traitor, started moving against my will—legs unfolding shakily, knees scraping the rug as I tried to stand, to lurch toward the door and whatever microscopic scraps of dignity I had left clinging to my soul.
Iskanda wasn’t having it—not even a little.
In one fluid, terrifyingly casual motion, she hooked her foot around my ankles and tripped me, sending me crashing face-first to the floor with a startled, undignified yelp. My cheek smacked against the rug as my ass perked up high and inviting into the air.
She pounced before the thought of escape could even finish forming. Her body covered mine like a blanket woven from pure heat, muscle, and maternal possession, one hand gripping the back of my head and grinding my face into the coarse fibers until my lips brushed them and I tasted dust and humiliation.
I began to beg, words spilling out in a desperate, muffled torrent against the rug. "Please—I can’t—too much—mercy, Iskanda, please, I’m breaking—"
"Shh," she growled, voice rough with renewed lust but still laced with that devious, loving coo. She pressed my cheek harder into the floor until I whimpered. "Mommy’s not done loving you yet—hush now, let me take care of you."
Behind me, I heard it clear as day—the wet, punishing schlick-schlick-schlick of her fist wrapping around her cock again, stroking slow and deliberate, coaxing that beast back to full, terrifying hardness with sounds that made my bussy twitch and leak in response.
She shifted her weight, knees forcing my thighs wider until I was splayed open like an offering, cool air kissing my gaping, quivering hole in ways that made me shutter.
Then I felt it, the heavy, scalding weight of her cock smacking against my sensitive rim with lazy slaps that sent lightning bolts of overstimulation coursing through my body.
Smack. Smack. Smack. Each impact jolted through me, my hole clenching greedily on nothing, fluttering like it was trying to suck her in without permission. I moaned, raw and ecstatic, unable to help myself.
"Listen to my sweet baby," she cooed, voice dripping with mock affection and dark delight, "moaning like a needy little kitten just from mommy’s cock tapping your greedy little cunt. So cute. So fucking pathetic. My perfect, dripping cumdump, already desperate for more."
I melted—actually melted—body going boneless and submissive under her as those words sank into my skin like loving brands, devious and warm.
She laughed again, full of that twisted maternal pride, and then—without warning, without mercy, with all the love of a mother claiming her child—she rammed that monstrous cock deep into my insides in one brutal, claiming thrust that punched the air from my lungs and replaced it with pure, filthy fire.
I screamed into the rug, the sound muffled and broken, as she buried herself to the hilt, balls slapping heavy against mine with a wet smack, stretching me so wide I saw stars and felt every veined inch carving its name into my soul with loving cruelty.