The sun had already dipped below the jagged treeline when Elara Voss pushed open the heavy oak door of the Rusty Sword Inn. Dust motes danced in the slanted orange light that cut through the common room. Every head turned.
She was impossible to ignore.
Six-foot-four of pure, sculpted obsidian muscle. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow, powerful waist. Thick, corded thighs that flexed visibly beneath skin-tight leather breeches. Her massive breasts strained against a cropped black tunic that left her chiseled midriff bare—eight distinct abs glistening with the day's sweat. A thick mane of midnight curls cascaded past her shoulders, framing a face that was equal parts regal and feral: high cheekbones, full lips curled in a permanent half-snarl, and molten gold eyes that seemed to drink in every soul they landed on.
And then there was the bulge.
Even soft, her cock was obscene. A thick, heavy outline ran down the inside of her right thigh, the flared head pressing insistently against the leather like it was trying to tear free. The weight of her balls—each the size of a ripe orange—created a visible, pendulous swell beneath. The entire package swayed slightly with every step she took, drawing gasps, blushes, and hungry stares from half the room.
Elara didn't care. She never had.
She strode straight to the bar, boots thudding against worn floorboards. Behind the counter stood Mira, the innkeeper.
Mira was everything the rumors promised.
Early thirties. Pale freckled skin. Hair the color of fresh-spilled wine, tied up in a messy bun that was already coming undone. A low-cut blouse that did nothing to hide the deep valley between her enormous breasts—easily G-cups, maybe more—spilling over the edge of her corset. Wide hips, a thick, heart-shaped ass that jiggled faintly when she moved, and thick thighs that promised she could ride for hours without tiring.
Mira's green eyes locked onto Elara's crotch first, then slowly traveled upward. Her tongue darted across her plump lower lip.
"Room for the night?" Elara's voice was deep, smoky, carrying the barest hint of a growl.
Mira swallowed. "Best room's upstairs. Corner suite. Private bath. Fifty silver."
Elara slid a fat gold coin across the bar. "Keep the change."
Mira's fingers brushed Elara's as she took the coin. The contact lingered. Electric.
"Dinner's on me tonight," Mira murmured, voice suddenly husky. "And… anything else you might need."
Elara's golden eyes narrowed, amused. "Careful what you offer, innkeeper. I have a big appetite."
Mira leaned forward, cleavage practically spilling onto the bar. "I noticed."
The common room was already buzzing with whispers.
Elara turned away, heading for the stairs. She felt every eye on her ass—firm, rounded, flexing with each step—and on the obscene pendulum swinging between her legs.
She didn't look back.
---
The private bath was small but luxurious for a roadside inn: a deep copper tub, steaming water already drawn, lavender oil and soap on the side table. Elara stripped without ceremony.
Her tunic came off first. Breasts bounced free—heavy, full, dark nipples already stiff from the cool air. Then the breeches. She peeled them down slowly, letting her cock spring upward in a slow, meaty arc.
Eighteen inches of thick, veiny black meat. Even flaccid it was intimidating—girth thicker than most men's wrists, a latticework of bulging veins running from root to flared tip. The head was blunt, almost mushroom-shaped, glistening faintly with natural precum. Below it hung her balls—huge, heavy, swaying like ripe fruit in their dark sac.
She sank into the hot water with a low groan. The heat soaked into her muscles. Her cock floated lazily on the surface, half-submerged, the tip breaking the water like a dark serpent.
She stayed there almost an hour, letting the day's tension bleed away. Only when the water began to cool did she stand.
Water cascaded down her body in shining rivulets. She didn't bother with a towel—just wrapped a thin linen sheet around her waist, barely containing the obscene bulge, and left the bath.
She didn't knock when she reached the door to the private dining room Mira had promised.
Inside, a single long table. Candles. Two plates. And Mira.
The innkeeper had changed.
Gone was the practical blouse and skirt. She wore a sheer crimson nightgown that clung to every curve. The fabric was so thin her fat, dusky nipples were clearly visible—already pebbled and straining. No panties. Just smooth, pale thighs and the shadowed promise of a plump, hairless pussy already glistening.
Mira held two goblets of dark wine. She offered one to Elara.
"You look… hungry," Mira said, voice trembling with barely restrained lust.
Elara took the goblet. Drank it in one long swallow. Then set it down.
"I am."
She crossed the room in two strides.
Mira barely had time to gasp before Elara's huge hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Tongues clashed immediately—wet, hungry, possessive. Mira moaned into Elara's mouth, hands flying to the dark woman's chest, squeezing those massive breasts, thumbs flicking over thick nipples.
Elara broke the kiss only to growl against Mira's ear.
"On your knees."
Mira dropped instantly.
The sheet fell away.
Mira's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open.
"Gods above…"
Elara's cock had thickened from half-mast to full, terrifying erection. Twenty inches now, veins throbbing visibly, the head swollen and leaking a steady stream of clear precum that dripped onto Mira's upturned face.
Mira didn't hesitate.
She wrapped both hands around the base—her fingers didn't meet—and opened wide.
The head alone stretched her lips to their limit. She gagged almost immediately as the thick shaft pushed past her tongue, but she didn't pull back. Instead she forced herself deeper, eyes watering, mascara already running.
Elara groaned, fingers tangling in Mira's red hair.
"Good girl."
She began to fuck Mira's throat.
Slow at first—long, deliberate strokes that made the innkeeper's neck bulge obscenely. Then faster. Harder. Wet, choking glurks filled the room as Mira struggled to take more.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Drool poured from the corners of her mouth, dripping onto her heaving breasts. Yet her hands never stopped—she stroked what she couldn't swallow, twisted her grip, massaged the heavy balls that slapped rhythmically against her chin.
Elara pulled out suddenly. A thick rope of spit and precum connected Mira's swollen lips to the glistening cockhead.
"Bed. Now."
Mira scrambled backward on hands and knees, ass swaying, pussy visibly dripping down her inner thighs.
Elara followed, stroking herself lazily.
Mira threw herself onto the wide bed on all fours, presenting herself—back arched, ass high, thighs spread. Her pussy was puffy, swollen, clit visibly throbbing.
Elara climbed behind her.
She didn't tease.
She slapped the fat head of her cock against Mira's soaked cunt—once, twice, three times—each impact making Mira yelp and squirt a small gush of clear juice onto the sheets.
Then she lined up.
One brutal thrust.
Mira screamed.
The first ten inches disappeared in a single stroke. Mira's walls clamped down like a vice, fluttering wildly. Her back bowed so hard her breasts mashed into the mattress.
Elara didn't stop.
She grabbed Mira's wide hips and forced the rest inside—inch after thick inch—until her heavy balls pressed flush against Mira's clit.
Mira was shaking. Drooling. Babbling incoherently.
"Too—too big—fuuuuck—"
Elara leaned down, pressing her sweat-slicked breasts against Mira's back.
"You took it all," she growled. "Now you're going to take everything I give you."
She began to fuck.
Hard.
Deep.
Relentless.
Every thrust made Mira's fat ass ripple. Every withdrawal dragged her inner walls outward in a lewd, clinging display. The wet slap of flesh on flesh filled the room, punctuated by Mira's broken moans and Elara's low grunts.
Elara reached around and found Mira's clit—swollen, slippery—and pinched it hard.
Mira came instantly.
Her whole body seized. A violent gush of squirt sprayed from her pussy, soaking Elara's thighs, the sheets, the floor. Her walls milked Elara's cock in frantic spasms.
Elara didn't slow down.
She kept pounding through the orgasm, forcing Mira to ride wave after wave. Each thrust slapped her cervix. Each withdrawal pulled a fresh gush of squirt.
"Again," Elara commanded.
Mira could only sob.
Elara flipped her onto her back.
Mira's legs were immediately forced up and back—full mating press. Knees beside her ears. Pussy obscenely exposed, lips stretched tight around Elara's pistoning shaft.
Elara drove down with punishing force.
Mira's eyes rolled back.
Her tongue lolled.
She came again—harder this time—squirting so violently it splashed against Elara's abs and dripped down her own face.
Elara growled.
"Fuck—look at you. Squirting like a broken whore."
She pulled out suddenly.
Mira whimpered at the emptiness.
Elara slapped her dripping pussy with her open palm—once, twice, three times—each slap making Mira jolt and squirt again.
Then she slapped her with her cock—fat, heavy smacks against swollen clit and soaked lips.
Mira was crying now. Begging.
"Please—please—don't stop—"
Elara grinned.
She shoved back in—balls deep—and began to rut like an animal.
Mira's belly bulged with each thrust, the obscene outline of Elara's cock clearly visible beneath her skin.
Elara grabbed Mira's throat—not choking, just holding—claiming.
"You're mine tonight."
"Yes—yes—yours—"
Elara felt her balls tighten.
She was close.
She pulled out at the last second, reared back, and unloaded.
The first rope hit Mira's face—thick, white, hot—painting her from forehead to chin.
The second splashed across her gaping mouth.
The third and fourth coated her massive tits, dripping from her nipples in long strands.
Elara kept stroking—milking every drop—until Mira's chest, face, and hair were drenched.
Only then did she push back inside—still rock-hard—and resume fucking.
Mira came again immediately.
And again.
And again.
---
Hours passed.
They never stopped.
Mira rode Elara in reverse cowgirl—ass cheeks clapping, pussy gripping like a fist, squirting every time Elara spanked her raw.
Elara lifted her into a standing carry—legs wrapped around her waist, cock slamming upward while Mira screamed into her shoulder.
Then Elara's arms locked behind Mira's neck, cock buried to the hilt, Mira's body folded in half, squirting helplessly while suspended in the air.
Then Elara knotting her pussy with a sudden morph of her cock, the swollen canine bulb locking them together as she pumped rope after rope directly into Mira's womb.
Mira lost count of her orgasms somewhere around the fifteenth.
By the time Elara finally let her collapse—body trembling, pussy gaping, cum leaking in thick rivers down her thighs—the room reeked of sex.
Mira lay there, panting, eyes glassy.
Elara stood over her, cock still half-hard, glistening.
A soft chime rang in her mind.
[Lust Dominion System – Activation Complete]
[Conquest recorded: Human]
[EXP +1200]
[Level Up! Level 1 → Level 2]
[New Ability Unlocked: Cock Morph I – Equine Flare]
[Bonus: Pleasure Aura I – Increase partner sensitivity by 50%]
Elara grinned.
She looked down at Mira—covered in cum, pussy still twitching—and felt her cock twitch back to full hardness.
She reached down, stroked the flared head experimentally.
It swelled—widening dramatically, taking on the flat, mushroom-like shape of a stallion's cock.
Mira's eyes widened.
"Again?" she whispered, voice hoarse.
Elara grabbed her ankles.
"Again."
She flipped Mira onto her stomach, yanked her hips up, and slammed home with the newly flared head.
Mira screamed.
The flare stretched her wider than ever before.
Elara fucked her like that until dawn until Mira passed out mid-orgasm, body convulsing, pussy squirting one final, weak fountain.
Elara pulled out slowly.
Cum poured from Mira's ruined cunt in a thick, white torrent.
She leaned down, kissed the back of Mira's sweat-drenched neck.
She stood, cock still dripping.
The system chimed again.
[New Title Earned: The Pussy Destroyer]
[EXP +3000]
[Level 3 → Level 4]
Elara laughed softly.
She was just getting started.
Outside, the first light of morning crept through the window.
A new day.
A new hunt.
Elara Voss smiled, golden eyes glowing.
The world was hers to conquer.