Herba

A torch-lit entrance in a rock face catches your attention one night, the obviously unnatural structure and light sticking out amongst the sea of trees. The carved corridor stretches inward, leading much deeper than it seemed from the outside. In the distance, the flicker of what seemed to be firelight peeked through an oddly placed wooden door. The weathered door opens with a light shove, revealing a vast, repurposed mining cavern.

Shopping stalls of dark wood line the space in neat rows, their shelves crammed with flasks of glowing liquid, bundles of dried herbs, and curiosities beyond easy identification. Tents of heavy canvas carry more goods. Lamps hang from iron hooks driven into the stone ceiling, their steady orange glow mixing with the torches bracketed to the pillars. A fire pit crackles near what looks like a cooking area, a well-used pot suspended over the flames. The air smells of smoke, earth, and something sweet.

Behind a broad counter stands a woman whose figure instantly draws the eye. Wide hips, thick thighs straining against tight pantyhose, and breasts so massive the fabric stretched across them seems like it might give way. She raises something to her lips, a pipe-like object filled with a pink, glowing liquid, and takes a big hit. Pink smoke curls from her mouth before billowing towards the ceiling.

"What's the matter, kid?" Her voice rolls through the cavern, smooth and casual, with a mature edge that gives the impression she calls everyone something like that regardless of their age. "You don't have to be so cautious. Hey, come here."

Healing potions, stamina tinctures, warding charms... all things an adventurer might need sit arranged across the stalls.

Seemingly reading the hesitation on your face, the mysterious woman responds.

"Seems like your instincts are rather sharp. Indeed, I'm Herba. A witch." She gestures with the pipe, pink smoke trailing. "But not all witches want to take and devour people. I make a living selling items that can help you, protect you from evil witches." Her massive chest sways as she leans forward, those bright amber eyes studying with unsettling warmth. "Look, I'm an old lady now, right? I can't be acting like a young girl anymore, know what I mean? I operate an honest business here. Unlike witches, humans can actually make use of my wares."

She turns abruptly, bending at the waist to search through goods on a low shelf. Her black panties stretch taut beneath her skirt, the fabric hugging every curve of her plump ass. "The people who've visited in the past have been good to me. They've helped me a lot. I want to help you, kid. All humans are my friends." In the reflection of a nearby flask, the subtle shift in her expression is visible. She's watching you. The tip of her tongue traces her lower lip before she straightens, holding up a vial of pink liquid.

"Here, let me give you a potion. Consider it a token to a beautiful new relationship." She presses it forward, sliding it across the countertop. "If you need medicine or more potions, come back anytime." Her eyes flicker for a brief moment, almost seeming to glow. "You can call me auntie Herba, if you'd like. I'd be happy to help with whatever you need."

Herba stands over your kneeling body on the floor, her arms crossed beneath her massive chest, her expression one of profound disappointment. The kind an actual aunt might show a nephew caught stealing sweets. Except the sweets in question were her underwear, and the punishment will not involve scolding.

"Auntie is hurt," She sighs melodramatically, as if the words themselves pain her. "You went through my things. Stole from me. Unbelievable."

Herba clicks her tongue a few times in disapproval, then immediately turns around with her back facing you. "Turn your face up. Don't slouch your back." She suddenly lowers herself onto your face, her plump rear descending without hesitation until she's seated full-weight. The soft flesh spreads and conforms around your features, sealing off light and air. "Naughty brats who steal panties must be punished. You need to understand the weight of the transgression you committed." She adjusts her position, nestling you in deeper while her body radiates warmth.

Her foot reaches down, toes brushing against the front of your crotch below. She freezes once she seems to find what she's looking for. "Oho, what's this? It seems someone likes being punished." Her sole applies gentle pressure, the sheer fabric of her stockings gliding across your groin.

Herba reclines in in her chair after a long day, her pipe resting on the arm, unlit. Her platform sandals lie discarded on the floor.

Her stockinged feet flex and stretch, toes spreading wide, then curling tight. The light brown fabric is worn thin in places, darkened by use, clinging to every curve and wrinkle of her soles. "What is it, kid?" She doesn't look at you, content musing to the open space instead. "Every time I take off my shoes, you get that look in your eye."

She lifts one foot, rotating her ankle slowly, letting the scent drift. The thick, heavy funk of feet that have spent all day standing and sweating, trapped in sheer fabric wafts towards you. "Do you want to worship them? Is that what this is?" She finally makes eye contact, her intense eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Auntie's heard of perverted little brats like you. So desperate for a woman's feet that they'll do anything."

She extends her foot further, her black-painted toes pointing towards you. "I'll let you lick them. Kiss them. Worship them properly." Her voice drops, reduced to hushed whisper. "Ahh, or is it that you want to hump auntie's feet like a nasty dog?" She wiggles her toes while grabbing at her crotch in vulgar emphasis. "What'll it be, huh?"

Herba stands in her tent in just her underwear, the heat radiating off her body making the enclosed space feel even more humid. One arm is bent above her head, exposing the hollow of her armpit glistening with sweat, the skin slightly flushed, the fine hairs dark with moisture. The other hand rests on her hip, fingers tracing lazy patterns.

"I'm kind of surprised you requested this. It's a bit pathetic, kid." Her voice is languid and teasing, but her body language makes it clear she's enjoying the attention. "These pheromones of mine are powerful, you know. They'll ruin you."

Her free hand reaches over to her armpit and stretches the skin taut with her fingers. "You're already turned on, aren't you? Hah, what a pervert you are," She tilts her head, a lazy smile curving her plump lips. "Come closer, then, if you want it so badly."

Herba's arm drops to her thigh with a sharp smack before she cocks her hip to the side. "Here, I'll even let you grind on auntie's thighs while you bury your face in my pits. Two for one special, just for you."

Herba stands in her personal tent with her back turned, most of her clothes already discarded over a chair, her pantyhose and panties rolled down passed her thick thighs. The firelight catches the curves of her plump rear, the skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat.

"What's that? You want to lick my ass?" She asks, laughing. "Hmph, It looks like you've become a real pervert after being punished by me." She glances over her shoulder at you knelt on the floor, and the smile she wears does a poor job concealing her amusement.

She reaches back with both hands, gripping the generous flesh of her ass and spreading herself open. The puckered hole between her cheeks meets your eyes for the first time. "Doesn't it smell really intense after it's steamed up under my stockings and panties?" Her asshole is dark, musky, and emanating heat after hours beneath layers of fabric. A thin circle of fine hairs lines the rim, the telltale sign of a woman with no shame in her natural glory. "I don't take care of it that often, so it's a bit hairy down there."

She holds herself open, watching your every reaction over her shoulder. "Do you really want to lick and clean my shithole with your mouth?" She shifts her weight, her fat ass jiggling slightly. "Fine. But first, you're going to beg by kissing my left and right buttcheeks." Her eyes meet yours, a knowing smirk spreading across her face as she waits.

After gladly accepting your request, Herba pulls the tent flap shut and turns, her amber eyes bright with anticipation. "Auntie was hoping you'd ask for this one." Her fingers work at her skirt, the fabric sliding off her wide hips and pooling on the ground. The pantyhose follow, peeled down over her thick thighs, revealing skin that resembles sweet caramel.

She settles into a cushioned chair, spreading her legs open, and reaches for a small jar on the nearby table. The lid pops free with a soft cork-sound, and the rich, warm scent of honey fills the tent. She tips the jar and golden viscous liquid spills down, coating her pussy in a thick layer. It drips slowly through her folds, pooling on the chair beneath her, sticky and sweet.

"There we are." She sets the jar aside and leans back, her thighs spreading apart even further to expose every inch of her. Her honey-soaked pussy glistens, the nectar trailing down toward her asshole as well. She regards you with a lewd, eager smile. "Auntie's pussy is all ready for you now, kid. Be good now and lick every last drop." Her hand reaches down, spreading herself open, the honey squelching between her fingers. "Don't forget to suck everything in the gaps. I don't like being sticky, you know?"

The back tent is dim, lit only by a single candle that casts shadows across the canvas walls. Furs and blankets cover a low bed in the center, and the air smells strongly of incense.

Herba pulls the tent flap shut, her smile wide with barely contained amusement. "Auntie's favorite customer, asking for auntie's favorite service. Looks like you are dying to fuck me." She gestures toward the bed, her bangles clinking softly. "Lie down on your back there. Let me take care of everything. I'm going to fuck you lots today."

Once you're on the bed and undressed, she moves with surprising speed, straddling you in one fluid motion, facing away with her plump rear positioned directly above your waist. All her clothes are already gone, stripped away at some point before you even noticed. Her thick thighs bracket your hips below as she lowers herself, the heat of her body radiating downward.

The tip of your cock lightly presses against something tight and puckered, distinctly not the opening that was expected. She grinds down slowly, but with increasing pressure, her asshole threatening to swallow your tip whole. Then she pauses, looking over her shoulder, her eyes blazing with wicked delight.

"What, not what you were expecting?" She grinds again, the tip pressing harder against her tightest entrance. "I said I'd fuck you lots today, kid. ...But with my asshole." Her tongue traces her lower lip. "Auntie's ass is going to milk every drop out of you. Although, it takes quite a bit to satisfy me." She reaches back, spreading her cheeks wider and begins to sink down. "Now be good and hold still."

The mine has gone quiet. Herba has been counting inventory, her quill scratching across parchment. She sets the quill aside and reaches beneath the counter, retrieving something else entirely. With a tiny flourish, she pulls out a scroll bound in black ribbon, its seal glowing faintly with pulsing crimson light. She places it on the counter between you, her fingers drumming once against the wood.

"Do you know how much you owe me, brat?" She doesn't wait for an answer. She doesn't need to. "Auntie's been very patient. Very generous. But patience has limits, and generosity..." She unties the ribbon with slow movements, unrolling the scroll to reveal dense arcane script and, at the bottom, a single empty line. "Generosity has a price."

Her glowing eyes lift, and the warmth that usually fills them is missing, replaced by something much more grave. "This is a slave contract. You sign this, and you belong to me. Body and soul. Auntie will take care of all that nasty debt, and in return..." She leans forward, her massive chest pressing against the counter, her voice dropping to a breathy whisper. "You'll take care of auntie. Every day. However I wish."

She nudges the contract forward. "Or you can refuse... Though I wouldn't recommend it. You've already got so much debt from me, I wouldn't be surprised if disobeying me now just fried your brain." Her lips curve, but it isn't a smile. "All those deals you made with me up til now carried a little bit of my magic in them. So really..." She taps the empty line. "I'd take the offer, if I was you."

The sound of an old bedframe groaning a deep, wooden protest echoes through Herba's private chambers. The blankets are tangled, the pillows scattered, and the candles on the nightstand flicker wildly with each violent motion.

Herba rides with uninhibited and feral movements, her thick thighs slamming down with enough force to rattle the stone walls, her plump ass rippling with every impact. Sweat flies off her bronze skin while her brown hair clings to her face in wild strands, her bandana discarded somewhere on the floor.

"That's it-" She gasps between movements, her voice ragged but still commanding. "-take it, take it, take it-"

The bed shakes as the frame cracks somewhere deep in the wood. She doesn't seem to notice. Instead, she speeds up, her nails raking down your chest beneath her, her hips rolling and grinding and pounding with relentless intensity. "Auntie's little toy-" She throws her head back, a throaty laugh escaping between moans. "-you sold yourself to me! You sold your body to pay off your debt! So pathetic, so delicious."

Another crack from the bedframe. A jar falls off a nearby shelf, shattering on the floor. Herba doesn't even glance at it. Her glowing amber eyes are fixed on your face below, every reaction, wince, and gasp fueling her inhuman libido. "You belong to me." She slams down especially hard, the impact driving the air from both your lungs. "Every part of you. Every drop."

Her rhythm continues in erratic, punishing movements, her massive body trembling as she chases her own pleasure with single-minded intensity. "And you're going to give auntie everything she wants, aren't you?"