Carissa and Cereza

“Center...ring?” You ask, keeping your eyes on their feet. Someone said something about worship, and even though both of them had wonderfully plump, fat tits--something about sucking on ticklish witch feet appealed to you now. They also used the word “mortal,” though, implying they were otherwise. Were the immortal ticklish?

“That mind of yours!” The latina scolded you. You looked up at her, and she winked before continuing to berate you. “You are a slimy little toad, aren’t you?”

She pointed her finger, and your feet were swept from the ground. Your body sailed toward her hovering yoga ball as she shifted on it, extending her feet. “Little toads get stepped on,” She grinned, her athletic socks pulling themselves off her feet as you approached. Your body sailed parallel to the ground like a slow, lumbering missile until your face met the soles of the latina’s feet, now pressed against you.

Your dick went harder as you breathed in, looking up the tapered shafts of her silvery legs, her superthick thighs and right at the camel-toe cleft between them.

“Do you like getting stepped on, little toad?” The latina witch asked as you hovered against her wiggling feet, curling their toes when you start kissing and licking them with animal desire.

“Your toad...likes whatever...goddess wants him...to like,” you snivel between licks. She smiles, biting her lip as she points one of her soft, dainty feet.

“Mmm...that’s a good start, but easy on the ‘g’ word. We’re not them, and they don’t take the title lightly,” She scolds. “Miss Cereza will do just fine.”

Cereza. You look at the deep red paint on her toenails, then--just a little--you dare to gaze her whole glory. Her dark brown hair had a reddish tint as well.

Cherry. Miss Cereza. Coffee-and-cream skin wrapped in tight silver spandex. Bubbly, lovely curves and a smooth, commanding voice with just a hint of an accent.

“Are you ready to let him loose?” The raven haired witch said. You don’t dare to look behind you and include yourself in this conversation until you’re invited. You can only think of tight spandex and delicious, wonderful witches as you worship Miss Cereza’s soles. Cereza laughs a little.

“If I have to…” She whines. “But you’ll be later, little toad.” You’re pulled away from your last kiss, and you feel yourself rotated up again.

“As you wish Miss Cereza,” You say, almost absently. You regard the other witch--the one that pulled you in here--with a humble nod. You leave your eyes down.

“Reeeeeeeeally buying in here, aren’t we?” She asks you.

“Heart and soul,” You say back without missing a beat. “After what I’ve seen? I’ve been properly instructed not to call you goddesses, but--”

“Oh, lord.” She looks behind you. “Properly instructed?”

“Hey, you mentioned worshipful. I was just playing his strengths.” Cereza’s eyes burned into you. “You like sucking feet, don’t you, boytoy?”

“Your feet, Miss Cereza,” You answer. The raven-haired one waves a hand in front of you, and you look at her, smiling politely.

“Wow, she really hasn’t fucked with your head yet.” The raven-haired witch snorted a laugh. “Well, damn. Look at you.” Her brows knitted. “Into the occult, are we?” She asks, quickly adding “A whole lot?” You nod. “There you go.”

“I told you,” Cereza said. “He’s a good little toad.” You look back at the raven-haired witch and nodded. She snickered back, shaking her head.

“However you like your prey,” She said.

“How--may I address you, miss?” You ask her out of turn, feeling stupid when you do it.

“For fuck’s...It’s Carissa,” She says. “And no ‘miss’, and none of this...thing you and Cherry are playing.” She smiles. “I was here for a reason, and it’s not to play BDSM with you.” Carissa looks down at your waist. “Not...entirely, anyway.” You feel an invisible hand grab you from beneath your underwear. “Right now, priority one is sensitivity training for a couple key people--and we actually think you’d appreciate being involved.”

“Well...I mean, whatever you want me to do,” you say in earnest, trying not to play up like you are with to Cereza.

“It’s gonna be easy, boytoy,” Miss Cereza says, smiling at you. “You’re gonna play the same as you did in here--but you’re going to help all the other little toads understand the difference between being a good little toad and being a nasty little toad.” You nod at her, thinking that you get the meaning.

“And just play up like this never happened, and that I don’t know you,” You say, trying to be helpful.

“You don’t know us, boytoy,” Miss Cereza said. “And the ways we’re going to play with you--you won’t need your acting chops.” You swallow, tensing up a bit, and the silver-clad latina seems to enjoy it. “You have an affinity for the arts--a fetish for our magical talents,” She said, looking down at herself. Her tits started perking and swelling as she continued. “We’ve gotta press you a little, don’t we?” She asked, her spandex stretching as the neckline strained, sliding down her inflating tits. “In the interest of sensual exploration itself?”

You stared at her bronze, spheroid breasts, poking through the stretch silver fabric with unreal nipples and bursting from the silver straps from both sides.

“Let’s go,” Carissa said, pulling your attention away from Cereza’s magically-modified body. “Into the fire with you.”

With that, you began levitating back toward the main gym. A line of yoga balls towed behind you, bouncing down the hall in your wake.