Looking toward the rumbling, you could see the distinctive silhouette of her mother in the distance. Her shadow looked like that of an eighty-foot tall mudflap girl. From a narrow waist jutted wide hips, a round, firm ass and big, round breasts. Her tight bustier was barely able to contain her breasts, which were held high enough that they almost reached the base of her neck. Each of her enormous breasts shook with a massive weight. They weighed over 5,000 pounds each, more than a full-grown rhinoceros. As she came more into focus, her features became visible. She had a delicate face, with strong cheeks, smooth caramel skin and a sultry smile on her pouty lips. She walked at a relaxed, measured pace, her hips swaying back and forth with an exaggerated femininity. With each step she took the ground quaked. Her breasts heaved, then jiggled, with each step she took, moving up and down several feet with each step. Her name was Scarlett, and she was the Governess of Egypt, and the self-proclaimed Goddess of Lust and Indulgence.
Scarlett was a woman who cared about only two things: power and pleasure. Since birth, she had been given untold wealth, power and privilege. For anyone to tell her no was unheard of. At the age of nineteen, her mother declared her a goddess, and created an entire religious order in her honor. Every citizen of Egypt, Scarlett ordered, was to dedicate their lives to her worship.
A deeply sensual woman, her insatiable hungers defined her more than anything else. She lived to be worshipped. Pleasure was her sole purpose of her life, and thus her veneration was the sole purpose of the whole of Egypt. The only one she cared for was her daughter, who she saw almost as almost an extension of herself. Scarlett spared no expense to make sure the world catered to every desire her and her daughter felt. Otherwise, however, Scarlett viewed humanity as little more than . Scarlett loved power. She loved the feeling of towering over people, the feeling of being worshipped as a goddess, and the power she felt forcing the people of Egypt to pay their money and lives as tribute to her beauty.
She lived to make others submit to her. She would cause her followers immense suffering, and yet they still worshipped her: that feeling of power brought her equally immense pleasure. Had she killed every Egyptian purely for her own enjoyment (and she was well on her way to doing so,) she would have no regrets—except for the fact that she’d have to find new people to worship her. When it came to food, pleasure, and worship, too much was never enough—a fact attested to by her full, curvaceous figure.
In fact, her figure was usually a good deal fuller: like her daughter, she had a rare condition that caused her to rapidly lose weight if she didn’t eat enough. This was not a problem she commonly had. In the Governess’ palace, she had several caravans of fresh slaves, cows and elephants brought in daily. On the road, though, she quickly ran out of food. She had started her journey accompanied by a caravan of foodslaves, pleasure slaves, priests, worshippers, servants, and of course her daughter. She soon ran out of foodslaves: she had, after all, only brought a few hundred along with her. Soon she’d eaten or crushed all of her worshippers, priests, cargo horses, her servants’ horses, and finally most of her servants. The only servant she spared was Bast, a competent, loyal servant who Scarlett had something resembling affection for. The group that fared the best was her pleasure slaves—for Scarlett needed constant pleasure as much as she needed constant food, and they were among her most devoted worshippers. She now had only about ten of them, down from several dozen at the start of the trip.
Scarlett had an insatiable sexual appetite. She needed to have people constantly worshipping every feature of her body. It was unbearably difficult for her to go more than a few moments without some sort of sexual pleasure. To give her constant stimulation, she had slaves sucking on her huge nipples and clitoris at all times. At the moment, she had two slaves positioned under her bustier, their sole duty to constantly lick and massage her nipples. ‘Titslaves,’ she called them—Scarlett wasn’t known for her subtlety. Her most important slave she kept in the front of her panties. She charmingly named them “Clitslaves.” Her tight corset panties pushed his head against her clitoris, which he licked and rubbed non-stop. The pleasure slaves were clothed head to toe in black leather, with a mask that covered everything except their mouths. Scarlett was fond of the feeling of leather rubbing against her skin.
The current slave had just started his job, and as his near-constant erections professed, he was very fond of it. All day, he licked and rubbed her clitoris, which was round and firm, and bigger than his head. He loved to worship her. He loved the smell of her pussy, overpowering and pungent, yet somehow almost sweet. He loved the feeling of being utterly controlled by this godlike woman. Even her cunt was strong enough to crush the life out of him! He loved being used by this godlike woman for pleasure, and loved to give pleasure to her. He loved the taste of the warm, sticky residue that covered her clitoris, and the feeling her labia sometimes pressing hard against him as she moved. Somehow he even loved the fact that he never got off himself, the fact that aside from his tongue, he could never truly touch her. It made her unobtainable, and thus so much more desirable. Sometimes, she would press her legs together, and he would feel as if her labia walls pressing against his sides. It felt as if they could crush the life out of him—a fate he knew had met many of his predecessors. This feeling he liked most of all. He would give his life to Scarlett, goddess of lust, indulgence and beauty. It was his rightful place, his duty.
Scarlett didn’t feed these slaves. For the most part, she didn’t need to—the milk that flowed from her nipples almost constantly, and her musky fluids that lubricated her clitoris, were enough to keep them alive for months or longer. Few slaves survived that long, however, and they usually had to be replaced at least every day or two. It was dangerous work, to spend much time on Scarlett’s body. Sometimes her thighs would press close together, squeezing a clitslave’s body between her huge labial walls. Other times, while she masturbated, she would grab her breasts uncontrollably with her off hand, squeezing her breasts and nipples with great force. She loved the feeling of crushing a man against her immense tits as she was about to come.
Even this wasn’t enough for Scarlett. She could masturbate for hours straight as her followers licked her feet and labia, her moans and movements shaking the ground around her. But nothing aroused her more than crushing men. She would often visit her churches during service. They were always pack—missing service, after all, was punishable by death. They would worship her, bowing down, speaking chants worshipping her beauty and greatness. She would ask them to lick the dirt and blood off her foot, crushing them if they weren’t thorough enough. Sometimes she simply rolled around, crushing men under her huge tits and ass, feeling their bodies squish into goo as they paid tribute to her perfect body. More than anything, she loved to make men worship her pussy. Men would kneel down, licking her labia and worshipping her pussy’s great beauty and power. When she grew tired of this she would stuff them inside her immense vagina. She loved the feeling of them wriggling around as they tried to escape, the feeling of them gasping for air, the feeling of them asphyxiating inside her perfect, godlike being. She’d lightly rub her huge fingers, each nearly as long as a grown man, along the walls of her vagina. When she was ready to climax, her pussy would tighten with an incredible force. Instantly, she crushed them into a red paste, gushing gallons of blood through the air as she moaned in ecstacy. It was the fullest submission, a fitting tribute to her greatness. She loved this feeling more than anything else in the world.
Scarlett forced her hips through the city gate, whose highest towers barely reached above her huge round ass. She eyed the crowded marketplace in the narrow streets ahead of her. Hundreds of people bartered, talked, and drank beneath the tents that crowded the street. The market was loud and busy, and most of the crowd hadn’t noticed her yet. She was pleased, and she let out a pleased sigh as she imagined the juicy feeling of their bodies squishing under her feet.
She pushed her way through the narrow street. A few in the crowd noticed that the strange rumbling was getting closer, but most paid it no heed until it was too late. Some started to flee as she came through the gates. Her wide hips knocked against a churchtower, breaking the ancient brick and sending the steeple crushing onto the crowd below. On the ground, a wealthy merchant looked up, just in time to see her huge foot crash down on him. It came down on him with the force of a trebuchet, instantly flattening him. Each of her heavy steps crushed the pavement, leaving a deep indent in the ground.
Scarlett didn’t feel even the slightest sympathy for the people she stepped on. She savored the sensation of one innocent person after another crushed into goo beneath her feet. She enjoyed the squishy feeling each body made. She was something of a connoisseur in that regard, and she could note the slightest change in body type and composition from one person to the next. Fat, thin, young, old: each pleased her and her feet in a different, unique way. As far as she was concerned, they existed only to please her. She savored the crunch of every skull, the sweetly sickening sound as she flattened people’s entrails the snapping of their sinew. Her only regret was that she couldn’t take her time to enjoy it: after all, she had to find her daughter.