Worshipping The Sex Goddess

George has come to Pantheris, a gorgeous female sex guru, for a synthetic orgone sex session. She asks him to undress, looks at him and then, Pantheris turned her back to George without a word, her hips swaying like a metronome of temptation. Slowly, deliberately, she climbed onto the Kamasutra couch on all fours, her spine arched, her glistening folds framed between her powerful thighs. “Now,” she said, not looking back. “Pleasure me.” George rose on unsteady legs, still half-drunk on the aftermath of denial, worship, and obedience. But this moment felt different. Not a reward, exactly—it was a privilege. He wasn’t simply being allowed to take her. He was being commanded to give. As he approached, his cock throbbed—not with selfish hunger, but with purpose. Every step felt like a pilgrimage. He knelt behind her, gazing at the dark petals of her sex, still swollen with power, with heat, with command. Slowly, reverently, he guided himself to her entrance. He hesitated. Something in him trembled—not from fear, but from the knowledge that this was no longer about his pleasure. It was about hers. His cock was no longer his own. It was a tool, a gift to offer. “Please…” he whispered, unsure if he was asking permission or giving thanks. Pantheris looked over her shoulder, her eyes hooded, her lips parted. “You may fuck me now, slave. But understand this: every thrust is an offering. Every moan you draw from me is a prayer you earn. Make them count.” He entered her slowly, feeling the wet, pulsing heat engulf him. A groan tore from his throat as her body gripped him—tight, welcoming, devouring. He began to move, not with frantic lust, but with reverence. Each stroke was deliberate, guided by the rhythm of her breath and the music of her sighs. Pantheris moaned low, her hips rolling back to meet him, her body commanding and responsive all at once. George gripped her hips, not to claim her, but to anchor himself in the sacred storm she became beneath him. And as he fucked her—slowly at first, then with increasing urgency—he realized something had shifted. He wasn’t chasing his own climax anymore. He was chasing hers. Desperate to hear her gasp, to feel her convulse, to earn the soft guttural praise she gave between thrusts: “Yes… deeper… that’s it…” She turned her head again, her face wild and radiant with need. “Harder, George. You’ve earned this. Now give it to me.” He obeyed, hips slamming into her with rhythm and fervor. His body moved on instinct, but his mind stayed anchored to her. She writhed beneath him, her moans rising in pitch, raw and unguarded. Each cry from her lips sent waves of pride and ecstasy through his chest. Not because he was using her—but because she was allowing it. Because she had shaped him into a vessel worthy of giving her this pleasure. When she came—hard and loud, her whole body shuddering around him—George cried out in awe, not climax. He didn’t dare come yet. Not until she told him to. Pantheris collapsed forward, catching her breath. Then she turned, her body still humming with orgasmic aftershocks, and pulled him down into a kiss—fierce, claiming, deep. She wrapped a hand around his cock, still hard, still soaked in her. “You didn’t come,” she whispered, eyes gleaming. “Good boy. You’re learning.” George panted, trembling above her. “Did I… please you?” Her smile was slow, dangerous, tender. “You did. And because you did—now you may come again. But only when I say.” She guided him back into her hand, then lowered her mouth once more, letting him slide in between her lips, her throat welcoming him home. She looked up at him as he shook, already close, already undone. “Come for me,” she whispered around him, voice thick with command and satisfaction. “Come now, and know who you belong to.” And as he spilled himself down her throat, sobbing with the force of it, George knew—utterly and without question—that he was hers. Body. Mind. Will. Everything.

George followed Pantheris into her lair, a space designed for sensual dominance and submission. The dim lighting cast shadows that danced seductively across the walls, highlighting the intricate patterns of the Kamasutra couch in the center of the room. He watched as she moved with feline grace, her body a symphony of curves and power. "Undress," she commanded, her voice a low purr that sent a shiver down his spine. He complied, shedding his clothes quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. Her eyes roamed over his naked form, assessing, appreciative, and he felt a flush of heat under her scrutiny. Pantheris turned her back to George, her hips swaying hypnotically. She climbed onto the couch on all fours, her spine arching like a cat stretching in the sun. Her glistening folds were framed between her powerful thighs, a tantalizing invitation. “Now,” she said, her voice dripping with authority. “Pleasure me.” George stood, his legs unsteady. The room spun slightly, a mix of anticipation and adrenaline. This wasn’t just about lust; it was about surrender, about giving himself over completely. He knelt behind her, his cock already hard, throbbing with a purpose that went beyond mere desire. He gazed at her sex, dark and inviting, still swollen with power and heat. He guided himself to her entrance, hesitating for a moment. This was different. This was about her pleasure, her commands. His cock was no longer his own; it was a tool, a gift to offer. “Please…” he whispered, unsure if he was asking for permission or giving thanks. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes hooded, her lips parted. “You may fuck me now, slave. But understand this: every thrust is an offering. Every moan you draw from me is a prayer you earn. Make them count.” He entered her slowly, feeling the wet, pulsing heat envelop him. A groan tore from his throat as her body gripped him—tight, welcoming, devouring. He began to move, not with frantic lust, but with reverence. Each stroke was deliberate, guided by the rhythm of her breath and the music of her sighs. Pantheris moaned low, her hips rolling back to meet him, her body commanding and responsive. George gripped her hips, anchoring himself in the sacred storm she became beneath him. Every thrust echoed through him. That slight step closer to her undeniable ecstasy. It was her cries that energized him. It was her pleasured moans. With each moan she gave, he became more driven. And the satisfaction of Pantheris' pleasure. It wasn't his own satisfaction. Those were the moans that were all that mattered.

After he fucked her, she makes him lie on his back and orally edges him, adding prostate stimulation. After a long time of driving him crazy, she deepthroats him a d makes him come deep in her esophagus. The pleasure is so overwhelmi g, he knows he will obey a d pleasure her for ever.

“Lay back,” she ordered, a wicked smile playing on her lips. George, slick with sweat, complied, his body trembling with exertion and anticipation. He lay on his back, his cock glistening with their combined arousal, standing tall and proud. Pantheris crawled between his legs, her eyes locked onto his. She started slowly, her tongue tracing the sensitive underside of his cock, her breath hot and teasing. George groaned, his hips jerking slightly, desperate for more. She chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent vibrations through his shaft. Her fingers teasing his balls, then she dipped lower. Her finger trailed down his perineum and found the tight ring of his ass, pressing gently. George gasped, his body tensing as she slid her finger inside, the sensation foreign and intensely pleasurable. She began to move her finger in sync with her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock, her lips wrapping around him tightly. George’s hands gripped the couch, his knuckles white as he fought to keep control. Pantheris knew exactly what she was doing, edging him, driving him mad with need. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing to take him fully, her nose nestling in his pubic hair. He cried out, his body convulsing as she deep-throated him, her finger pressing against his prostate. The sensation was overwhelming, a wave of pleasure crashing over him. She pulled back, her lips popping off his cock with a wet sound, then took him deep again, her throat convulsing around him. “Pantheris…” he gasped, his body shaking. She looked up at him, her eyes watering slightly, but her grip on his thighs was firm, unyielding. She increased her suction, her head bobbing faster, her finger stroking his prostate relentlessly. “Oh god, I’m going to—” She hummed in response, the vibration pushing him over the edge. His back arched off the couch as he came, a primal roar tearing from his throat. His cock pulsed, spilling his release down her throat, deep into her esophagus. She swallowed, her eyes never leaving his, a look of pure satisfaction on her face. As the last waves of his orgasm subsided, George collapsed back onto the couch, his body spent, his mind a blur of ecstasy. He knew, in that moment, that he would do anything for her. Obey her, please her, worship her. Forever.

She stayed between his legs, her breath hot against his sensitive flesh, and she licked him clean. Her tongue was gentle, almost reverent, as she lapped at his softening cock, his balls, and the tender skin of his inner thighs. He shuddered under her touch, his body still on high alert, every nerve ending tingling with residual pleasure. Pantheris finally lifted her head, her chin glistening with his release. She smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips. "Good boy," she purred, her voice a soft rumble that resonated in his chest. She crawled up his body, her nails lightly scoring his skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He reached for her, his hands trembling slightly, but she caught his wrists, pinning them above his head. "Not yet," she whispered, her breath mingling with his. She ground her hips against his, her wetness coating his spent cock, her clit rubbing against his pubic bone. She moaned, her eyes fluttering closed, her body moving with a sinuous grace. "Pantheris," he gasped, his hips lifting to meet hers, despite his exhaustion. She increased the pressure, her clit swelling, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. She was close, he could feel it, the tension in her body, the desperate need in her touch. She released his wrists, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. She rode him harder, her body slamming against his, her breasts bouncing, her nipples hard peaks. He reached up, cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a sharp cry from her. Her body tensed, her inner muscles clenching, her breath hitching. He could feel her orgasm rippling through her, her body convulsing, her cries filling the room. He held her, his hands on her hips, guiding her through her release, his cock hardening once more, ready to serve her again.

His cock, slick from her arousal, slid against her inner thighs as she rode out her orgasm. She gasped and shook, her body like a bowstring, taut and vibrating. Her head was thrown back, her hair a wild curtain around her shoulders. Her eyes were squeezed tight, tears leaking out of the corners, and her lips were parted, panting. She rode the wave, her hips slowing as the intensity eased. With a final shudder, she collapsed forward, her palms flat on his chest. Her breath was ragged, her body slick with sweat. She looked down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming. “Fuck, George,” she breathed, a slow smile spreading across her face. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss. He could taste himself on her tongue, the saltiness mingling with her sweetness. She deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth, her body pressing down on his. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands roaming her back, her sides, her ass. He squeezed her flesh, his fingers digging into her soft curves. She moaned into his mouth, her hips grinding against his. He could feel his cock, hard and ready, trapping between the couch and her body. She broke the kiss, her lips trailing down his jaw, his neck, her teeth nipping at his skin. He groaned, his hips bucking slightly, seeking more friction. She chuckled, her breath hot against his collarbone. “Eager, aren’t we?” she teased, her hips rolling against his. She bit him, hard, just above his nipple. He hissed, his body jolting, his cock throbbing. She soothed the bite with her tongue, her lips closing around his nipple, sucking gently. He moaned, his hands fisting in her hair, his body arching into hers. She lavished attention on his other nipple, her teeth scraping, her tongue swirling, her lips sucking. She lifted her head, her eyes locked onto his. She reached between them, her hand wrapping around his cock. She stroked him, her thumb circling his tip, spreading the pre-cum that had leaked out. “You’re so hard for me,” she whispered, her voice a low purr. “So ready to fuck me again.” Her words sent a shiver down his spine, his cock jerking in her hand. She positioned him at her entrance, her hips hovering over his. She rubbed his tip against her clit, her breath hitching, her body trembling. She was so wet, so ready. He could feel her heat, her arousal coating his cock. In one swift movement, she impaled herself on him, her body stretching to accommodate his size. She threw her head back, a cry tearing from her throat.

She rode him hard, her body slamming down onto his, her walls clenching around him. George's hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, guiding her, urging her on. She leaned forward, her palms flat on his chest, her nails digging into his skin. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, her nipples hard and begging for attention. He reached up, cupping them, his thumbs brushing over her peaks, eliciting a sharp cry from her. She was lost in the sensation, her body moving with a primal rhythm, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "You feel so good inside me," she whispered, her voice a husky growl. "So big, so hard. You fill me up completely." George's hips bucked upward, meeting her thrust for thrust. He grazed his teeth down her neck, his breath hot and ragged. " Pantheris, you're so fucking tight. So wet. You're going to make me come again." She smiled, a slow, wicked curve of her lips. She sat up, her hands on his chest, her hips rolling in a slow, sensual circle. She leaned back, changing the angle, taking him deeper. He groaned, his body tensing, his cock throbbing inside her. She was in control, setting the pace, driving him wild. He could feel his orgasm building, his body coiling tight, ready to snap. She reached between them, her fingers finding her clit. She rubbed it in quick, tight circles, her breath hitching, her body tensing. She was close, he could see it in her eyes, the way her body moved, the desperate need in her touch. He reached up, his hands gripping her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He held her steady, his hips bucking upward, driving into her, chasing his release. She cried out, her body convulsing, her inner muscles clenching around him. Her orgasm ripped through her, her body shaking, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing, spilling his release deep inside her. He roared her name, his body convulsing, his hands gripping her thighs tightly. She collapsed forward, her body slick with sweat, her breath ragged. She looked down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming. "Again," she demanded, her voice a soft, breathless whisper. She began to move, her hips rolling, her body sliding against his. She was insatiable, her need for him endless. He was spent, his body exhausted, but he would never deny her. He would always give her what she needed. His hips lifted to meet her, his cock hardening once more, ready to serve her again. She smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips, and she increased her pace, her body moving with a sinuous grace.