Maya gasps, throat fluidly stretching around her Mistress's cock with a wet gllk. The heady musk of Ruby's body fills her senses, each bobbing stroke of her head blissful and adoring.

Her throat contracts tightly around the thick crown, neck bulging with the girth of it.

Her left hand slides down from the shaft to caress her Mistress's balls, heavy in her hand.

She slows, a little, deep heaving breaths flowing out as she stays planted deep inside, cock slowly spilling out her powerful seed down her throat. Even beyond the incredible taste, she can taste the potency, the flowing flickering wishmagic that makes her beyond virile, that makes every drip and drab and drop of it ambrosial and oversensitizing, that makes every tender breath carrying it's scent a wistful warm agony as her sack swells. 

Her eyes roll back in her head, overwhelmed with the sensation of power, of metaphysically-justified dominance that thrums through her through her throat and her tongue and her mouth. The taste is overpowering, intoxicating, filling her mind with more bliss than she knew she could contain.

She should be whiting out, mind shutting down from the pleasure, but she remains present, lucid, every ounce of her attention captivated by the veiny member throbbing in her throat. Ruby's cock is thicker than her arm, it should not be possible for her to safely take this penetration, yet her throat stretches obscenely around the thickness.

Because she rewrote the world for her Mistress. Because in this reshaped reality, it is right that all things should bend to Ruby's pleasure, including the limits of biology and sensation.

Maya strokes and teases the full, musky, pulsing sack in her hand, dense with her Goddess's seed. She bobs and sucks, tongue swirling and slurping worshipfully around the hotly twitching shaft that fills her mouth, nose buried again and again against Ruby's mound. She swallows adoringly, hungrily, savoring every moment of the powerful feeling.

She moans as her thrust redouble in fury, manifest might impressing itself onto the world and the contours of her supple overstuffed throat, tears of transcendent joy streaking down her hollowed cheeks. Every tiny bump and smooth glide alike sends a furious rush of purpose and enthralling enamouring detail straight into her soul and sex alike.  Her skull creaks with the force of her fertile cock, the sound forming a viscerally satisfying symphony with her grunts and groans and the gushing of her liquid need down her throat, every little twist and luridly lathered inch of her tongue glowing with satisfaction, her fingers relaxing, splaying, sliding, stretching so deferentially against the wonderful wonderful texture of her scrotum. She can even taste the moment where everything hits it's peak, where her sex has finally filled out to it's final form inside her, her nuts so ripe and hot against her hands, an ever waxing tide of the victory of her virility washing over her - 

It feels better then any addiction - there's nothing to fight the flames of her passion, no sensation or drive that exists apart from the almost shortcircuiting servile pleasure through simple surity of Her Command, or other needs to fulfill except her Mistresses'. Every word, every sensation of her is bliss beyond accounting, fantastic beyond fathoming, but the want, the pressure to seek them out exists only in it's satiation, its culmination and the glory of her surpassing perfection, the battering of reality as it confesses just how much better She is. 

Something deep within her relaxes, and she feels a fervent rush of desire. Her cunt clenches, hips parting as she feels her slick folds tremble with her lust. Her breasts glow with a lavicious warmth that sinks deep into the supple skin and firm fat alike, shivering with enhanced sensitivity and a tide of tender touchneed and a soothing centrality, her nipples hardening to diamond at Her divinity. Even her nose sings at her scent and her throat ripples, jolts of unthinkable pleasure pressing you inevitably towards orgasm.