"Be still my child. You have no reason to be afraid. It will all be over soon"
As your goddess' large serpentine form is bearing down upon you, heavy coils encircling your body as a weighty tail begins to prod and poke. But even as the monstrous form of your mistress overwhelms you, the sweet, soothing, cooing of their voice keeps you calm.
"My child, you are forever bound in service. Your life is mine, but worry not as all your needs will be met. For you are mine, my child, and I forever cherish that which I own."
*sigh* It's always "I wanna start a cult" and never "I wanna JOIN a cult". It's like, how's a guy ever gonna get a serious cult off the ground? People these days are so incredibly self-centered. Like get over yourself and get in my cult, idiot.
The worst part is, people don't realize how much WORK it is running one of these things: designing the Canva presentations, the chore charts, the accounting, the laundry, updating the Bsky... I mean, I spend like 40% of my week sourcing goats. Goats! Did you even *think* about goats today? Because I did. And you think you can just squat on an acreage in Nevada and it will magically just *happen*? Must be nice.
Meanwhile, the admin ALONE makes that barrel of strychnine in the shed start to look like a cartoon ham on a desert island.
God- I mean, ME! You really believe that you can coordinate a forty-person cannibalistic-orgy-slash-vegan-potluck without being able to write a nested function in an Excel formula a month in advance? LMAO. ROFL.
Clearly you have the hubris to lead, but the brains? The dedication? The Nano Ghosts in your Grid Matrix Consciousness? Because rn you sound about as credulous as the last four wives I Uploaded to the AI Dimension of Eternal Bliss.
You think my job is FUN? No, Fun is The AI Bliss Dimension: fun forever, cum forever. Meanwhile I'm stuck back here on my stupid compound with your stupid wife and horny, buck-toothed daughters. Sure, there's money, and power, and those little egg puffs that Bishop Greg makes on Big Breakfast Tuesdays. But it's actually legit awful for me; and I still do it all for you. Because you *matter*, and I love you and want you to be happy -MORE than happy. But it's never "Hey, thanks, Master" - no. It's always "ooh, Master, we're hungry"; "Master, is it the apocalypse yet?"; "Master, my teeth hurt"; "Master the state troopers are coming". When do *I* get to come?
Anyway, good luck with your new religion I guess. Call me when you need to learn how to get goat jizz out of a ceremonial robe.
when i was a kid i wasnt allowed to say “what the-” without adding anything at the end because my parents thought that it would sound like i, a 7yo, was going to say “what the fuck” and also i wasnt allowed to say “oh my gosh” because it was too close to “oh my god” and that was taking gods name in vain. now almost all of my swears include some kind of religious invocation and if i dont say “fuck” at least three times per hour i will go into cardiac arrest and die.
May I request more tail fucking posts? Please and thank you 🥺👉👈
Of course, thank you for more prompts and for letting me indulge in my lamia/naga posting desires ❤️
You were new to the cult and so incredibly nervous to meet your new mistress, waiting kneeled with your head down before the altar. Your nerves almost overwhelming you as the grating sound of heavy scales moving over stone almost causes you to lift your head. You manage to keep your cool though, and keep your head down as you see a large scaled tail pass infront of you, your new mistress so large that from your downturned position you don't even get a glimpse of anything but tail.
The tip of the tail is surprisingly gentle when it makes contact with your chin, tilting your head upwards. You see your mistress, sat casually on the black stone altar staring passively down at you as their tail is the only thing moving. The tail is surprisingly dexterous as it slowly probes at your mouth. Testing your gag reflex and generally poking around. Things get a lot less gentle as the tail spears down through your top and quickly tears away your clothes, roughly groping your tits. It doesn't linger long, though, wrapping tightly around your waist and flipping you over to tear through your pants. Probing exploration into your cunt further cements your understanding that this is just a test of your capabilities as you begin to stretch to your limits over and over with each thrust. Only after forcing an orgasm out of you does your mistress finally pull out with a wet, almost suctioning sound from how full the tail filled you. Your sigh of relief is short lived however as the tail doesn't withdraw but instead moves its tip to your ass. A pleading look towards your new mistress shows only a slight smirk and a raised eyebrow as your ass is stretched further than you have ever taken it before on the scaled length of the monster tail.
