Mommy And Her Body

Mommy & Jordan

Crimson Bloom: The Von Steinberg Chronicles – Part 2

Crimson Bloom: The Von Steinberg Chronicles

A Taboo Filled Fantasy – Part 4

Meanwhile, at a nearby stable, Prince Chiron, the centaur, was in the company of the King’s prized Stallion. He approached the magnificent horse. The beast’s mighty presence was undeniable. Its coat shone with a rich, velvety black, a testament to its strength and vitality. Yet, despite its imposing aura, there was an unmistakable sense of fear within its eyes.

Prince Chiron noticed the fear and began to whisper to the beast. “Shhh…” He murmured, his deep, resonant voice echoing softly through the still air of the stable, the sound of his hushed tones reassuring, a comforting contrast to the harsh reality that had been visited upon the beast in the past. He moved closer to the beast, a soft smile on his lips. His demeanor was gentle, starkly contrasting with the beast’s fear and the aura of the stable itself. The beast’s muscles tensed, and a faint shiver ranted through its robust frame, “It’s okay… I’m not going to harm you.”

“I know,” Chiron replied. They stood together in the darkened stable, surrounded by the smell of sex, sweat, and horses. The experience they had just shared had been intense, and now, as their minds and bodies began to process it all, a quietness and stillness had descended over them, their thoughts racing, trying to comprehend it. They knew now that it would take time for the reality of what had happened to settle in and for the significance to fully sink in.

A Taboo Filled Fantasy – Part 3

However, the King wasn’t left long in solitude. Not an hour had passed when he heard the sound of heels on the stone floor echoing through the empty halls of the dungeon. To his astonishment, it was his eldest son, Eroch. “Your highness,” the Prince announced in a clear and resonant voice.

King’s voice was thick with emotion as he called out to his son. “Why are you here?” He asked, his tone filled with both surprise and relief. He could see Eroch peering through the bars of the cell, his expression unreadable in the dim light. King’s emotions were a tumultuous mix of shame, longing, and a sense of liberation that his secret had finally been unveiled.

But the Prince did not respond. Instead, without uttering a word, he stepped closer, the dim light illuminating his face and revealing his striking features—a face the King knew so well, with his lineage’s firm nose and angular cheekbones.

Suddenly, Eroch’s mouth collided with King’s in a sudden and forceful kiss. The King gasped in shock, but his resistance began to wane as the seconds ticked by; he couldn’t deny that he was craving intimacy after being discovered. Eroch’s lips pressed firmly against his own, their warmth a stark contrast to the coldness of the cell. He could taste the faint sweetness of his breath and something deeper, something akin to desire. King’s initial stiffness melted away as Eroch’s tongue teased his lips, a gentle, insistent pressure that he couldn’t deny. He parted his lips slightly, and his son’s tongue darted into his mouth, exploring and teasing, sending shivers down his spine. As the kiss continued, his senses overwhelmed, and King felt himself becoming aroused.

He moaned softly as Eroch deepened their embrace, their tongues intertwining in a passionate dance. As the heat of their kiss grew, he began to push Eroch away, a feeble attempt at first but then more insistently. “What are you doing, my child?” King finally broke the kiss, his voice strained. His body felt alive, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

But Eroch was relentless. Without answering, he pushed King to his knees, a look of fierce determination in his eyes. The King found himself at eye level with the prominent bulge in Eroch’s trousers, the fabric straining against his growing erection. “Don’t do this, please… we are father and son…” his voice trembled in uncertainty. But the plea fell on deaf ears as the Prince unbuckled his belt slowly, deliberately. The clinking sound of the metal buckle echoed in the silent cell, sending a shiver of apprehension down King’s spine.

“No, I can’t do this…” King pleaded as Eroch grabbed his manhood, pulling his trousers down, his hard, throbbing cock sprung free. Yet, the sight of it filled him with a strange, forbidden longing that he couldn’t suppress. The large size and firmness of his manhood only made the situation more overwhelming; the Prince was not gentle as he placed the shaft onto the King’s face. He tried to resist, turning his face away from the strong scent of arousal that emanated from him.

But Eroch’s movements became more aggressive. He pulled King’s face back to his cock and rubbed it against the King’s face. As the tip of Eroch’s shaft touched the King’s lips, his instincts seemed to take control, overriding his logical mind; a moan of protest caught in his throat, and the warmth of Eroch’s cock on his lips was almost intoxicating in its temptation. His resistance started to crumble as he parted his lips to accept it into his mouth; the feeling of submission and acceptance was overwhelming.

Suddenly, there was a rustle at the cell door, and the Queen appeared. Her expression was a study of shock and anger as she beheld the scene before her. The dungeon, usually reserved for criminals and miscreants, had now become a site of a different form of transgression.

The King felt the heat in the Queen’s glare and felt ashamed of what was happening. The Prince had been relentless and had forced him into submission. His eyes glanced up to see his wife, who stood, her jaw clenched, anger in her eyes, her gaze burning into his. “My queen,” the King gasped, the Prince’s thick member slipping from his mouth with a soft pop. “Please, my Queen, help me,” he pleaded. Eroch looked over to his mother. “You’ve kept him to yourself for long enough,” Eroch growled out as his grip on the King’s head tightened. His mother’s face hardened as she stepped into the cell, her dress swishing softly about her as she stepped closer.

She moved around the room and stood in front of her son. The Prince knew his mother wasn’t happy. He knew what was about to happen and closed his eyes. He knew she had been dreaming of her chance for months. Ever since he had matured and grown, his manhood had taken on a life of its own. He was hung like the King’s prized Stallion, his shaft long and thick, a sight that any woman in their kingdom would drool over.

However, the Queen didn’t want to take her time and tease it. She didn’t wait or ease herself in. Her hands shot out and grabbed the member firmly. There was an edge to the Queen’s actions that made him feel a twinge of pain mixed in with the pleasure of her firm grasp on his throbbing member. The cold glint in her eyes as she stroked him, her gaze fixed on his face as though challenging him.

Her firm grip moved over the hard length of him, and a soft whimper left his lips. His eyes locked with hers as his face twisted with an overwhelming mixture of pain and intense arousal. His mother was a demanding mistress, one who would stop at nothing to satisfy her cravings, and Eroch, the strong, dominant Prince, was reduced to a quivering mass under her forceful touch. He knew he couldn’t resist her demands as his mother began stroking the beast that throbbed between his legs.

Her fingers wrapped tightly around his girth as she moved up and down his entire length, her movements growing in speed and intensity as the moment built up to the climax she so clearly sought.

The Prince couldn’t hold it back for long as her strokes quickened. “I cannot…” Eroch’s voice was breathless as he struggled to control the waves of ecstasy that coursed through him, his eyes locked on his mother’s face as her hands worked tirelessly at his engorged member. He couldn’t deny her the power she held over him at that moment, and the conflict within him seemed to fuel the building heat in his loins. He shuddered and arched, thrusting his hips forward as her pace became relentless.

The tension reached an unbearable peak as the Prince could no longer keep the sensations at bay. “I’m…I’m cumming…,” the Prince’s words came in a strained gasp, and with one last firm stroke from her hand, he surrendered to the ecstasy that crashed over him in a powerful wave. Eroch’s shaft twitched, and his mother pumped firmly on the base. He erupted, ropes of white spewing forth from the tip. It was as though his cock had burst forth from a long-awaited rain, his seed spurting out with a vigor that seemed almost unnatural; the thick, creamy white jets arced in the air before landing on the stone floor of the cell with a soft splattering sound. He threw his head back and unleashed the remainder of his load all over himself, painting his chest with white.

His mother was relentless; she pumped his shaft dry until all that remained were a few feeble dribbles of white. When finally his body went slack, a mixture of exhaustion and relief, the Queen turned to the King with her eyes fierce with resolve and unfulfilled passion. The dungeon’s air was heavy with the scent of sex, a potent mix of sweat and release hanging in the space between the two of them. In that intense gaze, he could see everything – her fury at being kept in the dark, the hunger within her, and the hurt he had been hiding. The King was panting and his heart racing, his need pulsing.

She moved forward, a predatory step that seemed to fill the confined cell. “On the ground,” the command came out in a harsh whisper, her breath tickling the King’s ear and making him shudder. The force of her will pushed him down to the floor. “Face down,” she said, the cold tone of her voice belying the heat of the moment. His eyes closed in surrender, his body shaking from the intensity of her control.

As he lay there on the stone, his body vibrating with an almost animalistic anticipation, the rustle of cloth and the clatter of falling jewelry echoed in the small cell. The Queen was stripping, letting her regal garments fall unceremoniously, symbolizing her casting off all pretenses of decorum.
The King felt the Queen’s firm hand on his rear, her nails digging into his skin, drawing out a groan of pain-tinged pleasure. She was forceful, insistent, and in control. He felt her move to stand, one foot planted firmly on the stone floor and the other, with a sense of dominance and purpose, placed squarely against the entrance to his rear, pushing with enough force to send a shockwave of sensation rippling through his body.

He cried out in a mixture of discomfort and desire. It was an unusual, taboo sensation – being dominated and controlled by this firm and assertive woman, a role reversal so stark and sudden that it was both unsettling and arousing.

Her movements were deliberate, and he could sense her raw power, feel her determination as she began to push against him, the sensation a mix of pain and pleasure that he hadn’t been prepared for. Her thighs pressed tightly as her body started to strain under her exertion. “Oh, my queen, no, please,” his voice barely audible above the heavy panting of his breath, a pleading mix of fear and desire, a testament to the struggle between his sense of duty and his primal urges.

Suddenly, something in her seemed to shift. With a sharp inhale, the Queen’s demeanor transformed. Instead of continuing her aggressive stance, she stopped, withdrew her foot from the King’s rear, and knelt beside him. Gently, yet confidently, she reached for him, her touch surprisingly soft and comforting. He could sense the shift in her energy, the anger dissipating, and a new, more nurturing aura taking its place.

At that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them, a raw and powerful connection fueled by their deep-rooted bond and their shared past of unfulfilled desires. As he felt her hands begin to caress him, a shudder ran through his body, his need for her touch, her warmth, and her reassurance palpable. His words came out as a choked whisper, filled with the weight of his longing and vulnerability, “Please… I beg you.” The dungeon echoed with a whispered plea.

Her response was a comforting murmur, her fingers tracing circles on his skin, her voice soothing and understanding, “I am here.” The cold air in the room, thick with the tension of their earlier encounter, was gradually replaced with an aura of warmth and acceptance. In this space, their roles as ruler and Queen fell away, leaving them simply as two individuals seeking solace and fulfillment in one another.

With each touch and whisper, the Queen restored something lost between them, the warmth of their shared intimacy. The King lay there, feeling the tenuous grip of his control start to loosen, the walls he had carefully erected around his feelings beginning to crumble. He could no longer resist her gentle yet insistent coaxing, the heat and wetness that waited for him just within reach, an invitation he found himself unable and unwilling to decline.

As the Queen continued her intimate exploration, the King’s world narrowed down to her fingers as they found their mark; the gentle intrusion at the tight entrance to his rear was an overwhelming yet delicious sensation, the kind that he had only imagined in the most secret, unspoken recesses of his mind. Her fingers circled his entrance, a tantalizing precursor before the first finger slid into him, the initial resistance of his body quickly giving way to acceptance. The penetration, while new and disconcerting, also brought about an unfamiliar but undeniable sense of pleasure.

While initially hesitant, her touch became increasingly confident with his positive responses, adding another digit as he slowly opened up to her, the feeling of fullness increasing along with the tempo of his heartbeat. As her movements quickened, he began to moan softly, the sounds escaping from deep within him and filling the silent cell, the act of submission adding to his arousal, making his body react in unexpected ways. His shaft started to harden and throb as her fingers stretched and teased, a reaction both to her touch and to his own surrender.

The King was in a heightened state of pleasure and arousal, his body reacting to every movement and caress. His cock, hard and throbbing, betrayed his words from moments before, “Please… not like this… not… not here,” he gasped out, but the conviction was no longer there, the resistance crumbling in the face of his overwhelming desire. He was losing himself in her, his hips starting to push back against her movements, the boundaries of his own control blurring with every passing second.

His words were lost to her, though. She was lost in the moment and started pumping her hand into him. Her fingers plunged deeper and deeper into him, and the King could feel the slick fingers driving him to new heights. As he arched his back and surrendered fully to her touch, the Queen responded by picking up her pace, her fingers curling and pressing against the sensitive area within him that sent sparks of ecstasy throughout his entire body.

She leaned forward then, her breasts, now free from their restraints, hung just above his head. The feeling was almost too much for the King – her strong hand was pressing deeply inside his ass, and she was leaning her large chest over him. She knew exactly what to say to her submissive lover.

She began to lean further until her breast was level with the King’s head, and she pushed it gently to the side of his face. “What a big boy…” She muttered softly, and she guided her breast to the King’s lips. With her other arm, she continued to finger-fuck his rear, all the while pushing her breast into his mouth.

The King moaned as his lips made contact with her supple mound, and, at that moment, the Queen took her opportunity to thrust the pert nipple into the waiting mouth. The King could not resist her – the taste of her skin, the softness of her breast, and the strength of her hand all worked in unison to force the King to his knees.

The King opened his mouth, accepting her offering, his lips wrapping around the hard nub of her nipple as the Queen positioned herself so that her other breast dangled tantalizingly just above him, its large, inviting mass swaying gently with her every movement. His eyes widened in anticipation, knowing that it too would soon meet the same fate as its companion, the act of nursing at her bosom a surrender of his control, his kingship, his very being to her.

The Queen’s hand, the instrument of his submission, didn’t let up as he suckled at her, the rhythm of her fingers plunging into him synchronizing with the movement of her breast against his tongue, each inward thrust matched with a surge of her warm, soft flesh into his eager mouth. He moaned around her, the vibration of his voice sending ripples of pleasure throughout her body as his lips sealed tightly around her nipple, his tongue lashing and flicking the sensitive tip, his own need and desire driving him forward into a fervent, desperate pace. The act was raw, visceral, and all-consuming, a demonstration of her absolute authority over him, an assertion of her unchallenged power over both his mind and body.

But she was not content to stop there. As he nursed at her, his eyes hooded with pleasure and surrender, her other breast hovered, an invitation too enticing to be ignored. With his hands, now shaking with the intensity of his arousal, he grasped her other breast, his palm barely covering the whole, generous curve, the weight of her ample flesh a delicious burden he was only too willing to bear.

He guided the other breast to his mouth, his lips, and tongue already wet with her taste from its counterpart, the movement as natural and inevitable as the rising sun. As his lips locked around the second nipple, she was transported. The sensation of him, so willing, desperate, and utterly his, was intoxicating. Her eyes rolled back as a deep groan emanated from her chest, a primal expression of her dominance and his submission. His mouth and tongue worked their magic; the sensation of his suckling, so powerful and so complete, consumed her entirely. The King, the once indomitable and proud ruler, was now reduced to this, a mere subject of her desires and a slave to her will.

Her fingers continued to plunge into his rear, her rhythm never wavering, every inward thrust matched with his own movements upon her breast. She moaned again, her body shuddering with pleasure, and he felt it. He felt her joy, her control, and it heightened his own desire even more; the act of submitting to her was his most incredible, most shameful pleasure. His mouth was unrelenting, his tongue dancing across her nipple in a wild and fervent dance of desire. He could not stop, he would not stop, for this was his submission, his pleasure, his downfall, and his ascension, all at once.

But the act was not one-sided, nor was the Queen’s control so easily won. The power of his nursing was undeniable; the force and need with which he clung to her breasts sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her. Her moans, once controlled and dominant, now began to betray a more profound, more primal need, a need to be fulfilled and sated.

The King’s eyes flickered, a spark of understanding ignited in their depths, and his mouth, hands, and body responded. He pushed against her harder, his mouth working more frantically, his desire fueling hers in a relentless, circular feedback of need and satisfaction, submission and dominance, a cycle that was both empowering and consuming. This was not just his surrender to her; it was their union, a convergence of two powerful beings in a mutual act of self-discovery, a journey towards an unknown, shared destiny.

Her moans grew louder, her breath more ragged, the tempo of their union quickening as they both spiraled toward the pinnacle of pleasure. She was in control, she was being served, she was dominating and dominated, the lines of power blurring into insignificance in the face of their shared ecstasy.

“Here…” she groaned as his mouth tugged fiercely on her teat, and his fingers dug into the soft, malleable skin. Her grip on his shaft, once a firm and confident assertion of power, now trembled, shaken by the storm of sensations that raged within her, “Take it…” She could feel the climax, her orgasm building with unstoppable momentum.

The Queen threw her head back as she let go of his shaft. “I…” Her eyes widened, and her jaw clenched tightly as her muscles tensed.

She let out a guttural groan. The King could see her sex contracting, pulsing, and releasing her climax as she cried out. The force of her orgasm shook her to her core. He was amazed by how beautiful she was in her moment.

She leaned back, pulled herself out of the King’s mouth, and stood back on shaky legs, her knees almost giving in with each step.

“Oh God…” She moaned as her orgasm slowly subsided.

Her legs were weak, and she felt herself sinking to the ground, her knees buckling as she sat on the cold, damp dungeon floor. “I am yours…” she whispered as her own climax began to ebb. She was exhausted but contented. Their mutual pleasure, the height of ecstasy, the ultimate surrender was now their shared destiny, forever entwined, a tale as old as time, yet as fresh and vibrant as the morning dew upon a virgin bloom.

She looked over at the King and said, “Come.” He rose from the floor, still reeling from the intense, intimate act they had just shared. She beckoned him, and he came closer, unable to resist, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of their shared intimacy, and he crawled towards her, like a servant to his mistress, eager and willing to please.

As the King moved towards her, he felt a sense of surrender and anticipation mingling within him, the weight of his kingship momentarily forgotten in the wake of his overwhelming desire. The dungeon was no longer a cold and harsh space; it was their sanctuary, the witness of their most private and profound moments.

The Queen’s voice was a soft command, laced with her unyielding authority and a hint of her lingering arousal. “I want you in my mouth…” her eyes were fixed on him, a mixture of hunger and love evident in their depths.

His face flushed with heat, his body reacting to her words in a manner he could no longer conceal, “Oh… yes…” he could only whisper in response, the power of his voice lost to his desire. Her request, or her demand, sent shivers down his spine and reignited the flame threatening to engulf him again.

As if in a trance, the King positioned himself before her, the epitome of obedience to her wishes. Intense and unwavering, her gaze remained on him as he lowered himself onto her face. The sight of her beneath him, her mouth open and inviting, was a scene of beauty and power, her strength and vulnerability coexisting in a delicate balance that mirrored their very relationship.

The Queen didn’t hesitate, didn’t wait for any signal from him. She wanted him, and she would take him, her own desires paramount. Her hands reached up, pulling his hips downwards, her movements confident and sure, a reflection of her unwavering resolve and unquenchable hunger. The act was raw, visceral, and immediate. She took his manhood, guiding it towards her open mouth, the warm, wet heat of her cavern enveloping him completely. There was a moment of exquisite relief, the sensation of being fully embraced by her overwhelming him.

The feeling was indescribable. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged, his vocal cords frozen in disbelief and awe at the sheer sensation of being taken like this, of being swallowed by her. His mind reeled, trying to grapple with the reality of his kingship being temporarily eclipsed, supplanted by this new role of the subservient and the submissive.

The Queen wasted no time. Her mouth, once a conduit of power and authority, now wrapped tightly around him, the wetness of her lips, the heat of her breath enveloping his length in an all-encompassing warmth that rendered him mute. She moved with a purpose, her mouth working on him, drawing him in deeper and deeper with each movement, the motion of her lips a testament to her own desires, her own need, a need that she now fulfilled unabashedly.

She began sucking him, and the King gasped, his body jerking with the shockwave of pleasure her movements wrought, her tongue swirling around the tip of his member as her mouth worked tirelessly, pulling him deeper into her, the sensation almost too much to bear, and yet, he couldn’t, wouldn’t dream of asking her to stop.

Her movements grew bolder, more fervent, the wet, slurping sound of her mouth on him echoing in the cold dungeon, a stark contrast to the heat they shared. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him in, the intensity of her actions a direct mirror of her authority over him, her power absolute, and her control undeniable.

As he gasped and shivered under the force of her desire, she paused briefly, her lips releasing him for a fraction of a second, just long enough for her to issue her following command. Her tone was commanding, leaving no room for debate or defiance, “Come inside me… give me what I want,” undeniable power in her voice. And with that, she enveloped him again, her pace increasing, her tongue dancing circles around his shaft as she pushed him closer and closer to his inevitable climax.

She sucked and sucked, her hands wrapped firmly around him, and her lips sealed tightly, forming an irresistible suction that pulled and teased at him relentlessly, each motion a testament to her mastery of him and his body. Her movements were strong, insistent, and demanding, pushing him towards a crescendo that he knew would be swift, powerful, and beyond his control.

He groaned loudly, his voice echoing off the walls, but was drowned out by the sounds of her insistent suckling, and as he reached his climax, the release was explosive, “Yes, yes, yes…” He could only murmur in surrender as she drew his climax out from him, his essence filling her mouth, a hot, thick torrent of his desire, of his submission. The orgasm was intense, a culmination of his surrender to her and the fulfillment of his passion, as her mouth continued to suck and slurp until he was utterly spent and shivering from the aftermath of their intense encounter.

But the act was far from complete, and the scene of his submission was not entirely set. She withdrew from him, his softening manhood leaving her mouth with an almost comical pop, her eyes meeting his with an intense, daring look. With a movement both gentle and insistent, she pushed him back. His body, still reeling from his recent climax, was pliant in her hands as she flipped their positions, and he was now beneath her, the weight of his body pressed against the cold, hard ground, her mouth hovering just above him.

The anticipation was palpable as she held his seed, the proof of his pleasure, within her mouth. She was deliberate and methodical in her movements as she slowly lowered her lips, and when they touched his, the kiss that followed was unlike any other. He was hers, completely and unequivocally. The act was an exchange of power and pleasure, an admission of her control, and a seal of his submission. As the warm liquid exchanged from her mouth to his, the very essence of him returning to him in a manner both surreal and sensual, he swallowed.

The taste of his own seed on her tongue was salty and bitter, yet strangely satisfying, a symbol of his complete surrender. He drank of it, not because he was compelled to, but because he consciously decided to embrace his desire and fulfill her every command. The act of submission was total and unreserved as he accepted her, her wishes, and her desires, and in doing so, accepted himself, his own passions and needs.

He swallowed again, his throat moving, his eyes locked on her, and as he felt the last drops of his essence slip down, a shiver ran through his body, an echo of the intimacy and power they had just shared, a testament of his love, respect, and unending submission to the one he had pledged to forever. As they lay in the dim dungeon, the sounds of their mutual submission echoing around them, nothing remained to be said. Words, after all, would have been redundant in the wake of their actions.
A short while had passed while the King recovered; the Queen
stood over him, his body still shuddering with the afterglow of their shared intimacy.

A thought crossed the King’s mind. What if he were to use the situation to his advantage? He thought briefly before saying, “Would you untie me…?”
But the Queen was too bright. She shook her head. “You need more training,” she replied as she reached down and grasped his shaft once more, the firm, demanding touch eliciting a groan of surrender from his lips. As the Queen began her expert caressing and stroking, she was resolute and firm, a force of nature in her dominance, each movement calculated to extract his surrender from his core. With every motion, he felt himself succumb to her will, his body responding with a readiness that betrayed his attempts at resistance.

“I… no… not like…,” his voice was weak, barely audible. His will crumbled with each stroke of her hand. But as she continued, something changed within him. Instead of fighting, he gave in, surrendering to her control.
The room was silent, save the sounds of her stroking and his muffled moans of pleasure and defeat. Then, she withdrew her hand from his member, and a small sigh escaped his lips, the absence of her touch a momentary reprieve. The dungeon’s cold stone floor beneath him was a stark reminder of their roles in this intimate power exchange, his vulnerability heightened by the icy chill that seemed to envelop him.

A Taboo Filled Fantasy – Part 2

In a remote part of the forest kingdom, an uncharted territory was known only by a chosen few. The King, the ruler of this vast realm, was among these select individuals. His secret was a place of unrivaled beauty and mystery, a natural paradise where a breathtaking lake, hidden from everyday sight, shimmered with a mystical aura.

Within the confines of the castle walls, a place that teemed with life and activity during the day lay relative quietness in the hours past midnight. The only sound audible in these hours was the rhythmic clacks of hooves upon the cold stone floor. This time of night belonged to the King and him alone as he made his silent yet purposeful journey towards the royal stable, where a unique stall was prepared for his special steed.

The air within the stable was warm, and it carried the distinct scents of fresh hay and animals. In the special stall stood his majestic black steed, with a shimmering ebony coat that seemed to absorb all the light around it. The horse’s eyes were intelligent and hinted at something otherworldly, reflecting the lantern light in eerie silver hues. His nostrils flared in response to King’s arrival. With a look of determination etched onto his face, King moved towards his horse and brushed its coat slowly, his hands moving over the powerful muscles underneath the skin.

“Good, you’ve not been tended to today…,” he murmured to the beast. He could see it had been a stressful day for his horse, and he began working the muscles gently, easing the tension from the large animal.

King’s eyes moved towards the rear of the horse, where his eyes met the full splendor of his horse’s stallion shaft. The massive cock swayed back and forth, thick veins visible under the pink skin. King inhaled deeply, his senses filling with a raw, animalistic scent, and he licked his lips in anticipation, his mind buzzing with the erotic possibilities ahead. He could already imagine the feel of that massive stallion rod sliding across his face and his tongue lapping over it, savoring the beast’s pungent aroma.

King moved down his horse, continuing to rub and brush him as he progressed. His eyes locked on the stallion rod swaying in the warm air. Slowly, the King brought a hand up and began to gently stroke the beast’s massive cock. With every touch, he felt its power, and he felt his own excitement rising. Soon, he was stroking both the rod and the heavy cum-filled balls. The animal responded with snorts, its tail swishing, a sure sign of its enjoyment and arousal.

The King’s mouth began to water, the desire building within him as he knelt before his majestic steed. His hands trembled, not with hesitation but from the surge of adrenaline and lust coursing through him; the thought that what he was doing was both forbidden and incredibly intimate filled him with a deep thrill. Sensing his intention, the horse stood motionless and compliant, a soft whinny escaping its mouth. Its cock hung heavy, thick, and pulsating with life, just within reach of the King.

The King looked up at his steed and felt a sudden wave of humility. He knew this was not just an animal but a creature of strength and majesty. Leaning forward, he placed his lips against the beast’s enormous member. His mouth opened wide, wider than he had ever known possible, and he began to kiss the head of the stallion shaft. His eyes closed, and his tongue darted out to taste it. The musky scent and the salty flavor filled his senses. The feeling of that smooth, velvety skin on his tongue was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It was hard to describe the feeling he had at that moment; it was a mixture of pleasure, excitement, and submission to his own desire that took over him entirely, his cock stiffening instantly.

He reached up to grasp the thick base of the shaft as he took the massive tip into his mouth, the thick meat filling his mouth. The girth of it stretched his jaws, making them ache slightly, yet the sensation of it sliding across his tongue and touching the back of his throat was indescribably pleasurable. The taste of the precum was strong, a mix of sweetness and musk, coating his mouth with its slick essence.

The Stallion, responding to this pleasure, gave a soft neigh, its heavy breathing punctuating the still air of the stable. The King, an influential figure in the realm, was reduced to a servant of his own lusts, willingly submitting himself to this primal act. The sound of slurping filled the room as he sucked on it, the stallion shaft twitching and pulsing in his mouth.
With the King on his knees, the beast moved back and forth slightly, the rhythm of its hips causing its vast cock to slide in and out of his stretched mouth. The King was beginning with its size, his hands moving up and down its length, trying to stimulate the entire length that could not fit inside. He could hear the sound of the horse’s breathing becoming heavier as its pleasure mounted and could feel it tensing its muscles in response.

But suddenly, amid this intensely passionate encounter, a voice broke the spell of silence, shattering the moment like a hammer to glass. The stable door burst open with a resounding creak, and the Queen’s figure appeared. Her expression was a mixture of shock and fury as her eyes locked onto the lurid spectacle before her.

“What is the meaning of this?! ” Her voice cut through the thick air, filled with unmistakable tones of outrage and disgust. She stared at the King, kneeling with his steed’s thick member still glistening from his saliva. His face was still tinged with the pleasure he was just experiencing. His mouth was frozen in an expression of guilty delight, unable to formulate words, let alone an explanation.

“Your Majesty…,” he stammered, trying to get up, but his knees wobbling beneath him. She stared at him with an expression that seemed to harden even further as the seconds passed. The beast, too, seemed to sense the danger, snorting loudly as its eyes flicked back and forth between its owner and the fuming Queen.

“Guards! Come quickly,” the Queen shouted, her voice ringing through the castle walls. Soon, the clank of armor could be heard as guards rushed in, their faces a combination of surprise and awkward embarrassment. “Take him away. Confine him in the dungeon,” she ordered, her voice icy. She stood tall, regal, and stern in the flickering lantern light, her authority undiminished despite the scene unfolding before her.

King felt the firm grasp of the guards’ hands on his arms, dragging him from the stable, the taste of his beloved steed’s cock still fresh in his mouth. The dungeon loomed ahead, cold, dark, and damp – a far cry from the warmth of his steed. As he was roughly thrown into the dark confines of his new quarters, the King couldn’t help but remember the sensation of the mighty steed and his immense shaft filling him completely. In this stark, unyielding space, his desire, an all-consuming fire that threatened his position and sanity, smoldered on. But the dungeon was not just a prison but also a reminder. It spoke of the King’s inner conflict between his role as ruler, expected to abide by strict norms and uphold the highest moral standards, and the untamed urges of his hidden self, yearning for the freedom to express himself freely and without restraint.

A Taboo Filled Fantasy – Part 1

The nipples were engorged with enough milk to satisfy the entire village, but these delicious delights would never see the light of day. The nipples are currently in use and well used, and they are much to the delight of the Queen’s daughter as she laps up the feast her mother provides. The mother in question, Queen Annabelle, was a very curvaceous woman. Her figure would be considered overweight, though it wasn’t entirely fat; her body contained a very wide waist and ass that gave the mother of six a voluptuous figure with a set of large and wide birthing hips. She gave birth to three daughters and three sons for her King.

However, that didn’t make her less attractive or unable to satisfy a young centaur’s hunger; her breasts had gotten even larger after her first birth and only kept growing as her body naturally evolved to keep up with her child-bearing. Now they hang like overfilled water balloons filled with warm and freshly brewed milk, which the King loved to suckle and feed from. Her nipples were engorged, and she could squirt out streams of milk at the slightest squeeze; the milk was thick and filled with nutrients, which made it delicious to all her children as she fed them one by one.

Eriwyn loved the intimacy of her mother; in this world, age was not an impediment. Instead, it was just an extension of beauty. Eriwyn was an adult now, and her own breasts were small in comparison, yet still complete enough to fill a young man’s mouth, and her mother had trained her well in being a wet nurse. Though Eirwyn had never taken a child of her own and often found herself suckling on her own mother, who did not mind one bit, as she cradled and comforted her daughter, while Eirwyn lapped up all her mother’s milk like the young adult she was. Queen Annabelle cooed to her child softly as she took a few moments to stroke her cheek; Eirwyn purred softly before unlatching her mouth and smiling at her mother.

“Mother needs a good massage to let me feast. You always give the greatest milk, better than father’s wine,” she says, patting the mounds gently before slowly pulling away, her clothes falling back into place. Her dress had been made especially for nursing, allowing the chest area to open into a small pocket. She began to gently knead at her mother’s breasts, massaging them to help ease any pain they may have had.

“Mmm, you always were such an attentive child, Eirwyn.” The Queen smiles softly, running her hands through her daughter’s long, chestnut brown hair. “And my dear, there is no greater pleasure for a woman than the love of her offspring. The love that transcends all barriers, the love of the milk mother for her suckling child…” Her tone softened to almost a whisper, “You have a gift, my daughter.”

The Queen’s words were valid; the milk’s enchantment was a powerful force, binding those who shared it with the magic of nature and the nurturing bond between mothers and their offspring. The forest, too, held an inexplicable magic – something ancient, a whisper from the trees, the heartbeat of the brook. And it seemed that the Queen and the forest had conspired, the milk, a living, breathing part of the enchantment of life. As Eirwyn savored her mother’s milk, the forest continued to sing its lullaby to the night.

The centaur Chiron’s dark eyes glittered in another part of the woods. His hooves tread silently on the mossy forest floor, his tail swishing idly. The air, thick with the scent of magic and moonlight, hung around him like a cloak, his senses heightened to the ethereal melody of the forest and the soft, muffled sounds from within the cottage. He waited, the forest a silent witness to the unfolding events as if anticipating a grand, natural ritual where the mysteries of the night were about to be revealed.

Chiron’s nostrils flared as he scented the air, the intoxicating blend of magic and the Queen’s essence reaching his keen senses. He felt a deep rumble reverberate in his broad, chiseled chest, the primal instinct of the stallion awakening. Chiron, known for his wisdom and patience, was now a creature driven by a more fundamental urge, a longing etched into the essence of his being. He was torn between his profound respect for the sacred act of nurturing within the cottage’s walls and the undeniable stir of nature within him.

His broad chest heaving, Chiron approached the small clearing just as Eriwyn emerged from her home. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow over her, and her iridescent wings fluttered. Her doe-like eyes met Chiron’s, and a smile played on her lips. Her innocence was mixed with an unspoken understanding. The nymph seemed to have sensed the change in the atmosphere, a new, intoxicating note in the forest’s song. There was something magnetic about Chiron’s presence; she could feel his struggle, the weight of his instincts, and the silent storm within him. “The moon is full,” she said, breaking the silence, her voice a sweet whisper that danced on the breeze.

She approached the mighty creature, her small hand gently brushing against his chest. Chiron stood like a marble statue under her touch, the silent battle within him evident in his clenched jaw and tense muscles. Her fingertips traced a path over his mighty muscles, broad shoulders, and chiseled torso, ending their journey at his waistline.

The forest around them grew silent, and Eriwyn could feel the magic of the Queen’s milk and the enchantment of the woods coursing through her. It was as though the night had stopped breathing, waiting with baited anticipation for the next movement, for the moment that would break the tenuous hold of self-restraint. A breeze stirred, causing her nipples to tingle against the soft fabric of her gown, their erect form outlined clearly. They ached, not from the usual longing of a wet nurse seeking milk but from a different, unexplored desire.

Her words were a whisper, yet they echoed with the intensity of a scream, “Please, drink.” Chiron’s eyes locked onto hers, dark pools of longing before he lowered his head to her chest, the warmth of his breath against her skin. She gasped softly as he moved her gown away and revealed her full breasts, the moonlight caressing them with a silver sheen. Chiron hesitated, his eyes meeting hers as though seeking reassurance. Eirwyn smiled, the understanding passing between them in a single glance, an unspoken consent.

He lowered his mouth to her breast, gently at first, then more hungrily. His tongue began to lap at her nipple, lashing the nub until it started to harden. Eirwyn’s eyes widened at the sensation. She had never experienced this in her years as a nursemaid; her body was aflame, and a sense of overwhelming joy washed over her. Suddenly, she could feel it – her nipple started to pulsate, sending streams of thick white milk spurting into Chiron’s eager mouth.

The feeling of the centaur drinking her milk was electrifying. The warmth of his mouth and the eagerness of his suckling were unlike anything she had ever felt. Each pull of his lips sent waves of pleasure through her, causing her milk to flow in rich abundance, nourishing the centaur she so deeply cared for. Eirwyn wrapped her arms around his strong neck, her hands running through his soft hair and over his rippling back muscles, her wings spread out and trembling with each gulp.

Eirwyn whispered sweet encouragements to him, her voice soft and filled with love and passion. “Yes, my darling. Drink deep and be filled.” Chiron’s hooves stamped lightly as he suckled, his strong tail whipping from side to side as the warm milk coursed down his throat. A low, pleasurable growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating against her breast and heightening her bliss.

She looked down at her beloved friend, his eyes closed in blissful ecstasy. Her milk was everything to him; sustenance and pleasure rolled into one; it had become his entire universe. The forest was alive around them, the leaves whispering their approval and the moon smiling at their tender yet fervent ritual.

As they continued their exchange of milk and affection, a sudden wave of transformation washed over them both. Eirwyn could feel her body changing; the enchantment of the forest and the Queen’s milk were unlocking something deep within her. Her breasts began to swell, becoming more whole and round as the enchanted milk multiplied inside her, filling her with warmth and a pulsing vitality.

Meanwhile, the transformation wasn’t just confined to her. The forest magic and her mother’s milk seemed to course through Chiron as well, igniting a fiery heat in him that spread throughout his entire being. His stallion phallus began to grow and throb with aching desire, hardening into a thick, veiny rod of raw need. His heavy balls hung underneath, swollen with a year’s worth of his stallion seed. He began to shift his hips back and forth as though humping an invisible partner, his movements growing in intensity and speed as his animal instincts started to take over.

But there was more… with each lap and swallow of Eirwyn’s magic-filled milk, his manhood seemed to be getting larger, longer, and harder. His horse phallus was engorged with hot blood, the pink flesh almost crimson as his breeding instinct overpowered his rational mind.

The transformation continued, pushing both Chiron and Eriwyn into new heights of arousal. As the enchantment worked its way through him, a primal need began to override all else, and he found himself becoming a slave to his burgeoning desires. He looked at Eriwyn with a gaze filled with pure lust, and at that moment, Eirwyn knew what was about to happen. With a swift, decisive move, he grasped her, pulling her up onto her back as he turned onto all four hooves, positioning his large equine erection in front of her. His strong arms enveloped her as he gently yet firmly pulled her towards him. The head of his stallion member began to slide across the lips of her sex.

Her eyes widened at the sheer size of his stallion shaft, the enormity of it both daunting and exhilarating. “Oh, Chiron,” she whispered, a mixture of fear and desire in her voice as he began to tease at her opening. The head was slick with precum and the forest’s magic that made her sex glisten and swell. With every nudge of his phallus, the warmth in his groin grew, an inferno of yearning threatening to consume them both.

Chiron pressed his hips forward, and the head of his stallion shaft began to press at the entrance to her sex, her heart racing as the realization set in – this wasn’t just about pleasure; this was a claiming. She was going to become his.

The pressure of Chiron’s stallion member against her opening made her gasp with the mix of pleasure and discomfort she was experiencing. Her arms reached around him, fingers digging into his skin, a gesture that was both encouraging and a desperate hold, as his size seemed to be too much for her tiny body to take.

“Relax…” The Queen called out to Eirwyn.

Eirwyn glanced at her mother in desperation, not fully grasping the situation as Chiron continued his persistent push. The Queen’s calm reassurance was all that kept her together. But this was only the beginning. Despite the Queen’s reassurance, Eirwyn felt overwhelmed by Chiron’s massive size, her small frame shaking from his attempt to breach her tiny opening. Clearly, they were testing her limits, and she wasn’t sure if she could withstand his entire length.

Then, as she watched her mother, the Queen opened her legs, revealing her sex, and in that moment, Eirwyn could feel herself being pushed over the edge. She watched in disbelief as the thick head of the Chiron’s stallion shaft penetrated past her sex’s barrier, his cock starting to plunge into her.

Chiron’s growl reverberated through their chests as Eirwyn clung to him. The feeling was indescribable – a potent mix of pleasure and pain that had her gasping for breath and whispering prayers. She could feel herself being filled, her tiny body stretching to accommodate the incredible length of his stallion member. Each inch that pushed into her sent shivers throughout her body, an intense sensation of being consumed.

His sheer size and force had her moaning, her tiny body straining with his penetration, the pressure of his stallion shaft threatening to split her in two. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, his chest heaving and sweat forming on their entwined bodies. “I can feel it,” she whispered against his neck. “I can feel every inch of it.” Chiron’s lips brushed against her cheek as he continued his deep and slow invasion of her body, the world outside of their embrace seeming to fade away, becoming just a distant whisper amidst the intense heat they were sharing.

As Eirwyn felt her insides being stretched and molded, a feeling of fullness took hold. The pressure was immense, but the sensation was pure ecstasy; the Queen nodded, the mother proud and happy.