The air in Lady Seris’s private sanctum was a thing of impossible luxury. It tasted of cooled wine and the sweet, almost narcotic scent of moonpetal blossoms, a flower said to bloom only in the deepest, most mana-rich parts of the Beast Glades, now thriving here in the heart of Alacrya. The light was a soft, pearlescent glow, emanating from floating crystals that drifted lazily through the high, vaulted chamber like captive stars. I stood before her obsidian desk, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs, a stark contrast to the serene silence of the room. I had been summoned, and to be summoned here, to this place no one but her most trusted retainer even knew existed, was an honor so profound it bordered on terrifying.

She was not at her desk. Instead, she stood by the grand arched window, a sheer pane of diamond-glass that offered a breathtaking, god-like view of the sprawling capital below. She was a silhouette against the city's artificial twilight, a figure of sublime power and grace. The usual armor-like robes of her station as a Scythe were gone. In their place was something that made the breath catch in my throat. A whisper of black silk and lace, a piece of delicate lingerie that clung to her impossible curves, revealing more than it concealed. It was a garment of pure seduction, designed to celebrate the perfection of the female form, and on her, it was nothing short of a divine revelation. The fabric barely contained the heavy swell of her big breasts, and the thong-like cut at the back showcased the magnificent, rounded globes of her big ass, a perfect, heart-stopping curve that promised both power and softness.

“You may approach,” she said, her voice a low, velvety murmur that sent a shiver straight down my spine. It lacked the cold, commanding edge of the Scythe and held instead a warm, intimate resonance that was entirely new to me. I moved forward, my boots making no sound on the plush, dark carpet. As I drew closer, the details of her came into sharper focus. The two elegant, obsidian horns that curved back from her temples, polished to a mirror shine, catching the starlight from the crystals. The cascade of her silver hair, unbound and falling like a moonlit waterfall over her bare shoulders. She turned to face me, and her crimson eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, were soft, heavy-lidded, and filled with a warmth that made my knees feel weak.

“I grow weary of masks, Kael,” she whispered, her gaze holding mine. “The endless games, the political machinations, the weight of this title. Here, in this room, I wish to be… uncensored. Raw. Do you understand?” I could only nod, my throat suddenly dry. This was the real Seris Vritra, the woman behind the formidable Scythe, and she was more intoxicating than any fantasy I had ever dared to conjure. She was the central character in the epic tale of my life, a living, breathing work of art more stunning than any drawing in a manhwa or webtoon.

She gestured to a small, floating orb beside her. With a flick of her wrist, it hummed to life, projecting a swirling, ethereal image into the air between us. It was a complex, ever-shifting pattern of light and shadow, beautiful and hypnotic. “A side project of mine,” she explained, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. “An Ai Generated illusion. It learns, adapts. It creates beauty from pure mana and intent. Some might call it a frivolous use of power, but I find it… soothing.” Her fingers danced through the projection, and for a fleeting moment, the light formed our two figures, entwined in a passionate embrace, before dissolving back into chaos. My heart hammered in my chest. Was this a test? A hint? A promise?

“Only those who belong to my inner circle, my secret ‘Patreon’ of allies, are ever permitted entry to this sanctum,” she continued, her voice dropping lower as she stepped away from the window and closed the distance between us. “And even among them, none have seen me like this. None have been allowed to witness the truth beneath the armor.” Her hand, cool and delicate, came to rest on my chest, directly over my heart. I could feel the potent thrum of her mana, a dormant volcano of power that could level cities, now caressing me with an impossible gentleness. “I’ve watched you, Kael. I’ve felt your loyalty. It’s a pure, unwavering flame in a world of shadows. And tonight… I wish to reward that flame. To stoke it into an inferno.”

Her fingers trailed downwards, slowly, deliberately, tracing the line of my tunic until they reached the buckle of my belt. Her crimson eyes never left mine, challenging me, daring me to protest, knowing full well I was completely and utterly at her mercy. And I wanted nothing more. With a flick of her finger, the buckle came undone. She knelt before me, the motion fluid and regal, a queen humbling herself before a chosen subject. The black silk of her lingerie stretched taut across her magnificent breasts as she leaned forward, her silver hair brushing against my thighs. She slowly, methodically, pushed aside my trousers and undergarments, her gaze filled with a hungry curiosity.

When I was fully revealed to her, a sharp, audible gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes widened, the crimson irises glowing with a newfound intensity. She looked from my hardening flesh back to my face, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her perfect lips. “Well now,” she purred, the sound a deep vibration that I felt in my very soul. “It seems my most loyal retainer has been hiding a weapon of his own. Truly… a magnificent creature. My beautiful La Creatura.” Her reverence was intoxicating. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around my base, her touch sending a bolt of pure electricity through me. The sight of the powerful Scythe Seris Vritra, kneeling before me, her beautiful face framed by those iconic horns, holding my big penis in her hands, was a vision of such potent eroticism it nearly shattered my composure.

She leaned in, her warm breath ghosting over the tip of my shaft before she began to lick and tease me with an expert’s touch. But she didn’t take me into her mouth just yet. Instead, she rose slightly, guiding me towards the heavy swell of her chest. She pressed her breasts together, creating a deep, pillowy valley of soft flesh, and slid me between them. The sensation was divine, an act of pure, decadent pleasure. Paizuri. I had only read of such things in forbidden texts. The feeling of her soft, heavy breasts enveloping me, the friction of her silky skin, was maddening. I gripped her shoulders, my knuckles white, as she moved her torso up and down, her head thrown back and a soft moan escaping her lips. Her silver hair cascaded over my hands as I fought to control my breathing, watching the way my shaft disappeared between the glorious mounds of her flesh.

Just as I felt I was nearing my limit, she pulled back, leaving me aching and exposed. She looked up at me, her eyes glazed with lust, a string of my pre-cum glistening on her lips. Without a word, she lowered her head again, and this time, she took me fully into her mouth. The feeling was electric, a searing pleasure that shot from the base of my spine to the tips of my fingers. She was incredible. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue skillful as it danced and teased, her throat muscles contracting around me. I tangled my fingers in her silver hair, not to force her, but to steady myself, to anchor myself to reality as waves of pleasure washed over me. Her horns brushed against my inner thighs, the cool, smooth obsidian a stark contrast to the heat of her mouth. Every so often, she would pull back just enough to look up at me, her cheeks flushed, her crimson eyes half-lidded, before devouring me again. It was the most incredible blowjob I could have ever imagined, a perfect blend of worship and raw, animalistic hunger.

I was close, so close to the edge, but she seemed to sense it. She pulled away, leaving me gasping, and rose to her feet with a lithe, predatory grace. “Not yet, my creature,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “I want to feel all of you.” She took my hand and led me towards the enormous bed that dominated the far side of the room, a sprawling masterpiece of dark wood and black velvet sheets. She lay back, a vision of dark sensuality, and opened her legs for me, a clear, unspoken invitation. Her body was a work of art, her breasts full and heavy, her waist impossibly small, and her hips flaring out to a perfectly rounded ass that pressed into the velvet. I moved between her thighs, my body trembling with a need so intense it was painful.

I positioned myself at her entrance, the tip of my cock pressing against her wet, waiting heat. She reached down, her delicate fingers wrapping around me, and guided me inside her. The sensation of entering her was like coming home. She was so tight, so hot, a velvet sheath that gripped me with an intoxicating strength. A deep, guttural groan escaped my lips as I sank into her to the hilt. She cried out, a sharp, pleasure-filled sound, and arched her back, her nails digging into my shoulders. Her power, her very essence, seemed to surround me, to welcome me, to consume me. I began to move, slowly at first, savoring every inch, every sensation. Our bodies moved in a timeless rhythm, the sound of our skin slapping together the only music in the sacred silence of her sanctum. Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper still, her moans growing louder, freer, more desperate. This was the Scythe uncensored, the powerful ruler of a nation brought to a state of pure, primal pleasure by my touch, by my presence inside her.

The pace quickened, our movements becoming frantic, desperate. Her head thrashed from side to side on the pillows, her silver hair a tangled halo around her. Her crimson eyes were wild, unfocused, her beautiful face a mask of pure ecstasy. “More,” she gasped, her voice raw. “Kael… please… don’t stop!” I drove into her harder, faster, pouring all of my love, my devotion, my worship for her into every single thrust. Her inner muscles clenched around me, milking me, drawing my own release closer. I felt her climax building, her body tensing like a bowstring. She cried out my name, a long, keening wail of ultimate pleasure. Her body convulsed around me, her orgasm washing over her in powerful, shuddering waves. Her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth fell open in a silent scream, and a thin line of saliva traced a path from the corner of her lips down her chin. It was a face of absolute, overwhelming bliss. The perfect, beautiful, unrestrained ahegao of a goddess reaching the heavens. The sight of her, so completely lost to her pleasure, was the final push I needed. With a roar, my own release erupted from me, flooding her womb with my essence, my body collapsing onto hers as waves of my own climax wracked my frame.

We lay there for a long time, tangled together, our bodies slick with sweat, the scent of our lovemaking hanging heavy in the air. Her breathing slowly returned to normal, and I could feel the frantic beat of her heart against my chest gradually slow. I shifted my weight, careful not to crush her, but she held me fast. “Stay,” she whispered, her voice soft and drowsy. She turned her head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my shoulder. I looked down at her. The mask of the Scythe was gone, replaced by a look of such serene contentment and vulnerability it made my heart ache with love. In this room, in this moment, she was not Seris Vritra, the feared and respected leader. She was just Seris. And I was hers, completely and irrevocably. This was more than a reward for loyalty; it was the beginning of something new, something profound and deeply forbidden, a secret we would guard with our lives. Our own uncensored story, a single, perfect chapter in the grand webtoon of our fates.