Sigmund the Accursed groaned as the Lady Lizabett of Vellnaan ran her slender fingers over his daemonicaly possessed member once more. Her fingertips slid like they were silk through the results of his many voluminous releases and over the dense-as-ivy tangle of thick, pulsing veins along the bumpy and ribbed length of his transformed manhood. The blonde beauty from The West had already milked him six times this night, bringing him to bucking orgasm twice as many times as the evening prior. He had never thought the sex daemon imprisoned in his penis would be sated, but his entire body ached–and this was just day two of an assignment which would last a fortnight while her Ladyship visited her cousin. Why had he let himself be temp… ted? Oh, right. Those.
He could feel his exhausted manhood rising again as the woman who just had to be a daemon in disguise finally pulled her enormous breasts from her nightgown. The weighty mounds rivaled the full moons above in both paleness and size. He knew firsthand, after their previous interlude, that they were at least twice the dimensions of his head from how she had pulled him down between them and trapped him within an iron maiden of velvet, heat, and lavender–but they looked even more massive than he recalled. Perhaps it was the light?
“Oh, but Siggy…” she pouted in that thick but affected-Parisian accent of Court. “I want the knot–I need it after last time. I’ve been so wet all day thinking about you standing there, right beside me, with this inhuman masterpiece stuffed inside your pants.”
“My, Lady is too kind,” he gasped, his throat raw from panting and moaning. “Perhaps, however, this should be the last round of the night.”
“Oh, but, but you’re so–so big now!” she cooed, fixing him with her big, dark-as-lazuli blue eyes as her pillow-like bottom lip pushed out into a pout. “It feels like I am gripping the great hilt of your mighty broadsword–and these textures! Ah! Your cock is simply divine, Sir Sigmund.”
“I assure you, the source is very much the opposite.”
“Still,” she said, putting a finger to her lip as the other one ran down his cum-slick length again. “Something which brings so much happiness cannot be truly evil, no?”
“I think you think differently after–
“You do me from behind at the parade tomorrow? You naughty boy… How did you know that was, like, my fantasy, sir knight?”
Sigmund was at a loss for words–a mental state that only intensified as The Lady engulfed his inhuman tool between her equally out of this world bust and began to stroke his length with all of the soft, warm, pliant flesh. Something stirred within him. A creeping sensation that trickled down into his stones. Then there was a pressure, followed by the now familiar feeling of growth. Only this time, he began to erupt continuously, his cock becoming a geyser of glowing, tainted seed. The flow was so steady, so powerful that it felt like hundreds of daemons were reaching into this world through his still swelling member.
His sticky spunk rained down on the noblewoman with more libido than an army of daemons. The little spatters here, and there began to fade away, their gelatinous mass sinking into Lady Lizabett’s skin. It was getting harder to ignore that her plump form was growing. Mercifully, she tensed in orgasm not soon after and slumped forward onto boobs that now had to reach her thighs. Despite that, Sigmund had a sinking feeling there was more in store tomorrow…(616)