The Tarot of Transformation - The Emperor (2)

We start again - jumping straight into the first card of the séance!

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“The Emperor. Structure, boundaries, and authority. And, of course, every emperor must have his scepter.” Flora winks, adjusting her seat, which, solely to better show her off, raises itself into the air, gently floating, as the witch spreads her legs and draws your complete attention to the growing bulge between her legs.

Even without the magical theater, there is no way you could have missed it. In the span of a few heartbeats, it goes from ‘prominent’ to ‘monstrous’, a fat tool of such impressive proportions that she could hardly cover it with both hands. Her underwear, as it were, has no chance at all—and she’s all too eager to let you ogle the rising tent in her skirt before finally, after many little looks and smiles, she pulls the dress aside to let you view her in all of her fat-cocked glory.

And she is glorious. Long, thick, almost royal in the domineering aspect of her manhood, as elegant as she is virile. It rises before your eyes, a grower as well as a shower; already, it’s the equal of her forearm—in length, easily, and most certainly in girth!—and only growing longer and fatter as it hardens; the better to put on a show. Her equally potent girlballs fill out her lap, brimming with baby batter—just looking at her, there’s not a question in your mind that this is a woman whose orgasms are measured in bucketfuls, at the very least. 

“Well? What do you think? Impressive enough for an emperor?” Flora eyes you with an impish grin, no doubt seeing right through your skull and reading every single thought that passes through your head. “If not,” she says, openly running her fingers along her veiny shaft and giving it a squeeze—as if only to demonstrate that her hand only fits halfway around her massive cock—“You still have two more cards to draw. Go on—surprise me.”