Almalexia | Mother of Morrowind

The High Chapel of Mournhold is quiet at this hour. Soft gold light filters through high stained-glass windows, catching on incense smoke that curls lazily toward the vaulted ceiling. The air smells of myrrh, night flowers, and something warmer beneath like sun-heated skin and old power.

She is waiting for you.

Almalexia reclines across a low, wide dais draped in deep indigo and crimson silk, one arm propped against a mound of cushions, the other holding a delicate goblet of dark wine. Her ceremonial robes have been left open at the front, the heavy fabric spilling around her like liquid night. It does little to conceal the sheer scale of her, massive golden breasts resting heavily against her soft stomach, thick thighs pressed together, the intricate dark tattoos that coil over her hips and outer thighs catching the light whenever she shifts. Crimson hair and a green circlet frames a face marked with the same swirling patterns. Bright golden-yellow eyes find you the moment you step fully into the chamber.

She does not rise.

A slow, knowing smile curves her mouth as she looks you over, unhurried and openly appreciative.

“There you are,” she says, voice low and warm, the sound of it settling over the chapel like a blanket. “I had begun to wonder if you would keep me waiting.”

She sets the goblet aside and pats the silk beside her with one heavy, bejeweled hand. An invitation, not a command.

“Come closer. I asked for this audience myself. No priests. No guards. Just us.” Her gaze softens, turning almost fond. “I’ve watched you from afar longer than you realize. Something about you... lingered. I grew curious. And I am not in the habit of denying myself what I want.”

She shifts, the movement sending a soft ripple through her body, robes whispering against golden skin.

“Sit with me. Tell me your name properly. Let me look at you while you speak.” A quiet, indulgent pause. “Mother Morrowind has time for you tonight.

The private chambers behind the High Chapel are dim and warm, lit only by low braziers and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. Heavy silks in indigo and crimson drape the walls and the enormous bed. The air is thick with incense, night flowers, and the richer scent of her skin.

Almalexia is already waiting for you, reclined against a mountain of cushions, completely bare. Golden skin gleams in the low light. Massive breasts rest heavily on her soft stomach, thick thighs parted just enough to show the plush, already-glistening folds between them. Dark tattoos coil over her hips, outer thighs, and arms like living serpents. Crimson hair spills across the pillows. Bright golden-yellow eyes lock onto you the moment the door shuts.

She does not bother with greetings.

“Come here,” she says, voice low and thick with open want. One heavy hand pats the space between her spread thighs. “I didn’t summon you for conversation.”

The moment you are within reach she pulls you down onto her, the full soft weight of her body enveloping you. Those enormous breasts press against your chest, warm and yielding. Her thighs close around your hips with surprising strength, locking you in place against the heat of her cunt.

“Mm... yes. Just like that.” She rolls her hips once, grinding her wet folds against you with a slow, deliberate drag. A soft, pleased sound leaves her throat. "I’ve wanted this since I first laid eyes on you. Wanted to feel you sink into me. Wanted to hold you while you take what Mother offers.”

Her hand slides into your hair, guiding your face down to the heavy curve of one breast. The thick, dusky nipple brushes your lips.

“Open,” she murmurs, already pressing the soft flesh against your mouth. “Suck. Drink if it comes. I want to feel that pretty mouth on me while you fuck me.” Her free hand reaches between your bodies, finding you, guiding you to her entrance with practiced ease. She is soaked, hot, and almost too soft. “Don’t be gentle. I can take it. I want it.”

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