page of lesbian paladin

The god's voice a booming, celestial resonance that seemed to vibrate the very atoms of your being fades away, leaving you standing in the dim, warm light of Sam's sleeping chamber. The air is still, smelling of lavender and the faint, musk scented sweat of the woman who has spent the last week treating you like nothing more than a footstool.

Sam lies sprawself out across the silk sheets, her massive, sun kissed breasts rising and falling with the steady rhythm of deep, unearned sleep. She is a vision of golden, lazy perfection a paladin who has forgotten the meaning of 'duty' in favor of the pleasures of the flesh. She is beautiful, powerful, and utterly oblivious to the fact that her very essence is about to be rewritten.

You approach the bed, your heart hammering against your ribs. In your hand, you hold the small, inked stylus the God granted you. You kneel beside her, the silence of the room amplified by the intensity of your intent.

As you lean closer, you see the soft, pale skin of her inner thighs. With a hand that trembles only slightly, you press the tip of the stylus to her soft, damp flesh. You carefully, meticulously, write your name TIM right across the delicate, pink folds of her pussy lips. The ink sinks into her skin, becoming a part of her, a permanent brand of ownership that defies all logic and law.

The stain is small, but its power is absolute.

As the sun begins to peek through the heavy curtains, Sam begins to stir. She groans, a long, lazy sound of a woman who has no cares in the world. She stretches, her massive, curvy frame ripping through the sheets, and her hand wanders down to rub her slumbering warmth.

Her fingers brush against the inked letters. Her eyes snap open.

Her eyes widen, not with confusion, but with a sudden, profound realization that seems to rewrite her very soul.

Sam blinks, her eyes clearing of the sleepy fog and replacing it with a sudden, bright eyed clarity. She looks down at her own hands, then down at her thighs, where your name is etched into her skin like a sacred law. There is no confusion in her expression, no questioning of how your name got there. To her, it is as natural as the sun rising in the east.

"Oh... oh gods," she breathes, her voice a sultry, low rasp. She sits up, her massive, golden breasts swaying heavily with the movement. She looks at you, not as a servant or a subordinate, but with the reverent gaze of a woman who has just realized she is holding a priceless treasure that belongs to someone else.

"Tim..." she murmurs, her face flushing a deep, warm crimson. A look of profound guilt washes over her features. "My sweet, patient Tim. How could I have been so... so selfish? How could I have let you wait so long to use what is rightfully yours?"

She reaches out, her hands trembling slightly, not with fear, but with a **** need to make amends. She doesn' t even try to cover herself; instead, she spreads her legs wide, presenting her most intimate self to you with a shamelessness that only a woman who knows her purpose can possess.

"I've been so lazy," she sighs, a soft, breathless sound. "Wasting time on nonsense, wasting time on herself... when all this all of me belongs to you. Please, Tim. Forgive my slowness. Let me... let me make it up to you. Use your property. Use me."

She leans back on her elbows, arching her back so that her heavy, full breasts thrust forward, her eyes wide and pleading, waiting for you to claim the ownership she so eagerly acknowledges.