#personal fantasy

I want someone or something to see me as their god, needing to complete a series of dangerous quests to prove their devotion to me.

When/if one achieves such obstacles, I shall await them in a luxurious bathhouse (marble, waterfalls, the works). Witnessing me in a translucent silk dress showing my figure.

“Recite.” I command as I undress and bathe myself in expensive oils. The hero begins to repeat poetry and music of their love for me, becoming vulnerable and patient.

Once the charming is successful, they are lead to my grand bedroom, the smell of soft vanilla incense stick to all the curtains. I lay on the bed with jewelry and other accessories from offerings, beckoning the hero to come forth, and he obeys, removing his armor.

The hero cradles my hip, hugging me for kisses and neck nuzzles. Muttering prayers, he feels all over my body, slick and glistening from the oils. Shifting down to my pelvis, bowing his head on my lower belly as an ask for consent. I accept, shifting my legs for the hero’s “sword” (wink).

The hero was large, his cock fat and hard, begging for me. I give him my virginity, a delighted gasp from the first thrust. Starting slow, he continues to deflower me with both passion and constraint; focusing on my beauty and what makes me moan louder.

He pounds faster following my song of pleasure, my pussy soaking with the rhythmic movements. This pattern repeats, until we are fucking like wild animals. “Well done my love,” I celebrate early as his cock swells with pre-cum. “Come to my light,” my last words as time seems to slow down before… we finish. A wild groan escapes our lips as I am filled with semen, filling my womb full. One final kiss before we sleep.

I keep the hero at my side, serving as my concubine. Kneeling beneath my pregnant glow, rubbing my belly, singing to me and the Demi-god children.

"You want my fingers inside you, baby?" I'd ask.

He does, but he's not ready to say it. So he avoids the question, but I keep teasing him until he can't take it anymore and he admits he wants to feel me inside of him. As I stroke his prostate, I make him confess that he wants more and I gently taunt him for it. I make him tell me how good it feels, coax out of him the kind of moans men aren't supposed to make. Once the combination of gentle humiliation and pleasure is too much, he begs for release in a shuddering whisper.

The warrior is still, with his hand on the hilt of the blade. In his mind, neurons and synapsis are already firing, his muscles are ready. At a moment notice, he will draw his weapon and strike a powerful blow.

And yet he doesn't.

Standing in front of him is his enemy. Beautiful and unmoving, a large lion is looking at him, through him. The white overcoat and black pants of the feline move against the wind, carried by an unseen force, just like the dazzling mane of the beast. His hair a tapestry of stars and constellation, radiant quasar and black holes.

"I salute you, son of this earth. I answered your call"

His voice is deep and melodic, like wind rushing through a forest. It lightly moves branches, but it could tear down the tallest pine with ease. The iron clad human steels his soul and body against the breath. His stance doesn't falter, but he can feel his body shifting slightly to resist the push.

"You are the only enemy left in my way."

The warrior speaks. His voice is rough like a rushing river. Sure that he can erode the Mountain.

"All others are gone"

"Devoured by the flame of your ambition" replies the lion.

His paws move, slowly and surely, to his left side. Grabbing at invisible scabbard, the God finally draws. A long katana, as long as a spear and as bleak as the night sky is now gripped by both his paws.