Blowjobs-as-Goddess-Worship: A Religious Studies Primer

The Goddess doesn't demand it, but she rewards it. When it comes from a good place, anyway. When you can afford another living being pleasure, when you can serve them as you serve the Goddess, you are serving her indirectly. Every stroke, every lick, every suck fleshes her will, so long as it comes from a good place.

Morag, in her own estimation, came coming from a good place. Her expert tongue dragged along Grimm's shaft, adding another coat of saliva, using its tip to trace his veins. She'd done this before, but never to a bull, and in some strange way she was relishing the opportunity. Plus, this particular specimen had, in the very recent past, given her the gift of a spirited spanking. The incident was still in her, ahem, spank bank, and she was eager to finally repay the bull for giving her exactly what she wanted.

The fox's prodigious butt jiggled and swayed with every motion, though to be honest Morag was playing it up a little. The sexy cow who'd brought Grimm to the spring seemed like she needed some cheering up... although a quick glance at the stranger's backside would make it plain that fat asses weren't anything new to her. But still, it seemed to be working, given that the ditzy dame was currently jilling off in the background. It didn't bother Morag any, having the cow around. She was cute.

The Goddess does not demand that you visit pleasure upon those who need it. She does, however, require that you express kindness to those in need in any way you find comfortable. When the wounded, or the lost, or the hungry find themselves at the threshold to your sanctuary, offer it to them. Only turn away those who would profane the sanctuary.

Grimm's body twitched and jerked in response to Morag's eager suckery, which was good 'cause she was getting into this, now, and she wanted a response. The big oaf had somehow managed to remain unconscious for the first few minutes of the whole thing, which annoyed Morag because she thought he was just being quiet. But now he was stirring, and this made her push harder. She took what she could of his length in her hands and jerked, hard, stroking him in a sloppy but practiced motion as she took him in her mouth.

Goddess, he tasted good. One of her hands dropped from the bull's shaft to his enormous balls, where it immediately began worshipping a hefty orb. He was full, Morag could tell, and she was preparing herself for an onslaught of cum. Not that that was a bad thing -- she was so wet it pissed her off.

You will live on your knees, but you will be a slave to no one.

"Morag?" The bull's voice was weak, a little hoarse. He'd really been put through a ringer, the poor fuck. The cow'd filled her in on what had happened. The Huntress... Morag wasn't entirely sure she knew who that was, but it also sounded weirdly familiar. But she couldn't focus on that now. Grimm was increasingly aware of what was going on, and she wanted to give him a warm welcome back to the world of the waking.

"Yeah, that's me, ya dozy fuck," the fox guardian taunted, before taking the bull's cock in her mouth and sucking. The bull's girth and length nearly made her gag, but she powered through it. She was adjusting, however, and her ministrations became more polished the longer she went. Fuck, she couldn't wait to taste his cum. He'd tasted hers, after all. Thinking about their previous encounter only made her hornier, more frantic.

"C'mon, you cunt," Morag moaned, releasing Grimm's cock just enough to speak around its head. Her tongue still flicked against it. Light rivulets of drool dripped from the corners of her panting mouth. "Fuckin' fill my fuckin' mouth."

The fox let out an involuntary moan as she deepthroated the barbarian traveler. A loud slurping sound resounded off of the borders of the sanctuary. Morag bobbed her head up and down Grimm's shaft, and when she pulled her lips off of it she let out another demand: "Give me your load, ya fuckin' moron." A gasp, a pant, then another bob.

Grimm was on the precipice of obliging her and Morag knew this. Were her mouth not full of man-meat the fox would have smiled.

Serve eagerly. Serve joyfully. Serve wisely.

It wouldn't take an alchemist to know that Grimm was on the verge of orgasm. His breathing was ragged, his legs twitched uncontrollably. Fuck, Morag was good at this. Real fuckin' good.

Yes! The thought filled Morag's mind as Grimm bucked and thrashed and expelled his seed. A ballista bolt of cum flooded Morag's waiting mouth. The load was so excessive thick drops of it immediately began dribbling from her lips. She wanted more, so she kept working. Grimm delivered what Morag was ordering: wave after wave of thick, hot cum shot down her throat, spilled from her lips, coated her face and throat... Despite being so small, especially when compared to the big bull, Morag took his loads like a champion, showing no signs of relenting as he pumped her face full of semen.

Fuck yeah, Morag thought, as her tongue forced more and more cum down her throat. Her stomach was filling up with Grimm's seed, and it was getting to the point where she felt like she needed to take a post-feast nap. Luckily, Grimm was slowing down.

The cow stirred from her spot and began crawling toward them. A dopey grin was plastered to her face.

Grimm was empty, Morag guessed. He'd slowed down to a crawl, and then stopped, and when she gave his aching cock a hard squeeze (causing him to yelp in surprise) she only got a few thick globs. Morag grinned. She'd emptied the big bastard.

"There you go," Morag teased, "now we're even."