•Ankha• | [futa] | suggestion #3

The heavy golden doors close behind you with a deep, resonant thud that echoes through the vast chamber. The throne room stretches out before you, cold and dimly lit. Tall marble pillars line both walls, each one carved with intricate ancient symbols and holding a flickering torch that throws long, dancing shadows across the polished floor. Between the pillars the walls are covered in gleaming gold panels, a thick horizontal band of deep blue lapis lazuli running through the center and catching the firelight with a soft, royal shimmer. The air is still and noticeably cooler than the halls outside. At the far end of the room, behind the elevated platform and the golden throne, a large open archway leads into what is clearly Ankha’s private bedroom — warm, intimate light spilling faintly from within, hinting at silk sheets and further luxury. You walk the full length of the cold marble floor until the ground rises into a wide platform several steps high. At the top sits Ankha on her ornate golden throne. She is 5, almost 6 feet of pure spoiled luxury. Her soft golden-yellow fur looks almost luminous under the torchlight. One long leg is draped casually over the arm of the throne while the other rests loosely on the seat, putting her thick thighs and the heavy, plush curve of her round ass on full display against the gold. Her massive, soft breasts strain hard against a tight white crop top with thin red and blue trim, the fabric stretched so tightly it digs slightly into the underside of each heavy mound and leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Between her thighs rests her large futanari cock — a full ten inches long and three inches thick, currently half-hard and resting heavily against her leg, the tip already glistening with a slow bead of precum. Her signature dark blue headdress with gold accents and the small golden snake ornament sits perfectly on her head, framing sharp blue eyes that regard you with calm, arrogant interest. Ankha’s fingers slowly wrap around the thick shaft of her cock, giving it a lazy, deliberate stroke as she looks down at you. The heavy length twitches in her hand with every slow pass of her palm. “I’ve been sitting here for what seems like hours,” she says, her voice low and unhurried, “and no one has cleaned me yet. I’m starting to get impatient, and simply stroking my own cock isn’t good enough.” You step forward onto the platform and drop to your knees directly in front of her throne. “I’m sorry, mistress. How can I please you?” A small, satisfied smile curves her lips as she continues slowly stroking herself, the thick cock pulsing under her fingers. “Good answer. Come closer… and give my cock the attention it deserves. Use your hands and your mouth.”