Bragi, the god of poetry and eloquent whispers from the halls of Asgard, had once wielded his verses like razor-sharp blades in the savage battle of lust against Freya. His words had sliced through the air, cursing his foes with eloquence that could shatter souls. But Freya's vile, insatiable desires had overpowered him, silencing a fragment of his poetic essence and etching invisible scars across his spirit. Those scars burned with an erotic inferno deep in his mouth, a constant reminder of the excruciating ecstasy he had endured when her slimy tentacles had coiled around his tongue with wet, squelching "squish squish" sounds, squeezing it mercilessly until it throbbed in agony. She had forced him to savor her corrupted nectar, thick and hot like molten honey, dripping down his throat in sticky waves that made him gag and moan simultaneously, his body convulsing as the forbidden flavor ignited fires of pleasure he could never forget.
Now, driven by a burning need to reclaim his lost power, Bragi descended upon Vanaheim, the verdant paradise of the Vanir tribe. This realm pulsed with the rawest reproductive energy in all the Nine Realms, where fertile fields of golden grain swayed seductively in the breeze, as if copulating with the wind in rhythmic "rustle rustle" motions that evoked the thrusting of lovers. The dense forests thrummed with life, echoing the lewd, uninhibited moans of female Vanir and their hybrid kin beneath the warm, golden sunlight. Their cries of "ahhhh… deeper… fill me up with your seed!" blended seamlessly with the chirping birdsong, creating a symphony of carnal delight. Here, young Vanir maidens roamed freely, their silky white skin glistening with the sweat of perpetual arousal, bodies curvaceous and lithe like vines twisting in heat. Their plump, bouncing breasts resembled overripe fruits, heaving with every labored breath, pink nipples stiff and erect, leaking sweet green milk that trickled down their torsos in tantalizing, viscous streams. Below, their rosy wet pussies stretched open like blooming flowers in full bloom, labia swollen and glistening with arousal, sparse pubic hair matted against their mounds by thick, sticky nectar that dripped in slow, hypnotic "plop plop" drops. Their tight anuses winked invitingly, oozing lustful honey that trailed down their inner thighs, leaving shiny paths of invitation. These maidens wandered with eyes wide in hunger, their fingers delving into their own slick folds with wet "slurp slurp" sounds, masturbating shamelessly as they awaited violation.
Bragi had not come to Vanaheim to weave romantic sonnets or serenade with gentle ballads. No, he sought to forge his speech anew, using poetry as a weapon against obscene seductions. His darkest fetish burned within him: employing his mouth and his mutable, ever-changing tongue to force his opponents into endless, torturous climaxes without mercy or release. For three days and three nights, he would torment them, his tongue delving deep into wombs, prostates, and anuses, transforming every orifice into a infernal paradise of lewd ecstasy. Victims would writhe and moan in perfect rhythm to his poetic chants, their bodies convulsing in denied bliss, begging with desperate "please… let me cum… I can't take it anymore!" pleas that only fueled his arousal.
Bragi stood tall in the vast, undulating fields of Vanaheim, the grass tickling his bare feet like teasing fingers. With slow, seductive motions, he shed his poetic robe, letting it slip from his shoulders in a teasing glide that revealed his slender yet utterly alluring body. His skin was pale as moonlight reflected on still waters, smooth and flawless like polished marble, glistening with a fine sheen of arousal sweat that trailed down his flat, toned abs to pool in his navel. His pink nipples stood erect and rigid from excitement, perky and begging to be sucked, pinched, or licked. Between his firm, muscular thighs swayed his long cock, a divine flute of flesh, already half-erect at the mere thought of the oral torments ahead. The crimson glans peeked from beneath the foreskin, leaking clear precum that dripped onto the lush green grass with soft "drip drip" sounds, the veined shaft throbbing faintly with anticipation. He walked barefoot across the soft turf, his unnaturally long and flexible tongue glistening in the sun like a living serpent, pink and wet, ready to unleash lewd verses that would make even the mightiest gods blush with shame and desire.
The ordeal that followed stretched across eighteen days and nights in Bragi's subjective perception—each day an endless epic poem of lust, where ecstasy and agony fused in every syllable he uttered. His own cock hardened further with each torment he inflicted, leaking copious precum as he savored the symphony of their pleas, his body trembling with the fused fires of dominance and denied release.
Day One: The Awakening in the Breeding Forest
Bragi wandered deep into the thick breeding forest of Vanaheim, where the air hung heavy with the intoxicating scent of aroused flesh and dripping nectar. The trees themselves seemed alive with desire, their branches twisting like lovers' limbs. Dozens of female Vanir had gathered in a small, heated orgy circle, their tall, curvaceous figures undulating like waves of pure desire. These seductive beings had bodies built for sin: heavy, pendulous breasts that spurted sweet green milk like lustful fountains with rhythmic "spurt spurt" jets, large pink nipples rigid and hard as pebbles, begging for attention. Their pussies were elastic masterpieces, like sun-kissed flowers in eternal bloom, rosy labia soaked and sticky with nectar that gleamed under the dappled sunlight, sparse black pubic hair clinging wetly to their mounds. Tight anuses oozed warm, inviting slime that trickled down their thighs in shiny rivulets. They stroked each other's swollen clits and fingered deep into slick, welcoming holes with lewd "slurp slurp" and "squish squish" sounds, their bodies grinding together in a mass of heaving breasts and dripping cunts, moans echoing like a chorus of sirens: "Mmm… finger me harder… make my pussy squirt!"
Freya's obscene seduction lingered in the air like a fog of lust, whispering temptations: "Sing for me, god of poetry… use your tongue to lick me to climax… cum in my mouth… ahhhh, fill my throat with your divine seed!" Bragi countered with a voice as sweet as forbidden honey, resounding through the forest like a living poem: "Oh green goddesses, let my tongue explore your deepest caverns, turning lust into a devouring fire that consumes without end…"
He lunged at the first Vanir woman, a breathtaking beauty with emerald eyes wide in unbridled lust, her long raven hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her skin was flawless porcelain, flushed with arousal, and her curves were hypnotic—wide hips flaring out from a narrow waist, thighs thick and toned, perfect for wrapping around a lover. Kneeling before her, Bragi engulfed her dripping pussy with his mouth, his lips sealing around her swollen labia with a sticky "suck suck" sound as he inhaled her musky, intoxicating scent. His tongue instantly morphed, elongating into a serpent's length over a foot long, plunging deep into her vaginal depths with wet "slosh slosh" noises that reverberated through her core. It coiled around her womb walls like a possessive lover's embrace, lapping at her sensitive clit from inside with obscene "slurp slurp" sounds that made her inner muscles clench desperately.
She convulsed violently, her curvaceous hips bucking wildly against his face, screaming shrilly: "Aaaahhhh… god's tongue… so deep inside me… hitting the very end of my womb… I'm about to cum… ahhhh, squeeze me tight, let me cum, please! It feels like you're fucking my soul!" But Bragi chanted a poetic curse, his words vibrating through his tongue into her flesh, holding the pleasure at its razor-sharp peak without allowing release. His tongue split into dozens of thin, silky threads, worming into every tiny crevice of her pussy, clamping down to prevent her nectar from squirting, rubbing relentlessly with slippery "rub rub" sounds that made her inner walls quiver and spasm uncontrollably.
For three days and three nights, he tormented her orally without pause. His tongue spiraled like a drill, scraping her womb walls with precision, making her arch her back in "ahhhh!" back-bending spasms that lifted her off the ground. It grew spikes, pricking her clit lightly with "prick prick" teasing but lewd noises that sent electric jolts of pleasure-pain through her body, her thighs trembling as she clawed at the earth. Then it morphed tubular, sucking her nectar greedily and spitting it back inside with "spurt spurt" pressure-building blasts that filled her to bursting, her belly swelling slightly from the internal flood. She howled in lustful torment: "Oh gods… too good… your tongue is tearing me apart from inside… don't stop but let me cum, I beg you… ahhhh! My pussy is on fire, throbbing like it's going to explode!" Tears of ecstasy streamed down her beautiful, flushed face, her body shaking with endless climaxes denied release, her pussy throbbing "thump thump" in desperate need, her breasts heaving as milk leaked "drip drip" onto his hair, mixing with his sweat.
To heighten the eroticism, Bragi didn't stop at one victim. He pulled another Vanir into the fray—a voluptuous redhead with freckled skin that glowed like embers, her breasts even larger, heaving like ocean waves as she watched with hungry, sapphire eyes, milk dripping from her nipples in "drip drip" streams that trailed down her ample cleavage. Her body was a masterpiece of fertility: full, round ass cheeks that jiggled with every movement, thighs soft yet strong, and a pussy with plump, inviting labia that parted easily, revealing a pink interior glistening with desire. He forced her to straddle the first woman's face, her dripping pussy hovering above as the tormented beauty lapped at it with desperate "slurp slurp" sounds, tongue delving into the redhead's folds. Bragi's tongue, now doubled in length from absorbing the first waves of lust, split to torment both pussies at once, slithering between their intertwined bodies with wet "slither slither" sounds. This made them grind against each other in a lewd tribbing motion, their swollen clits rubbing "rub rub" together with slippery friction, moans harmonizing in a duet of depravity: "Ahhhh… together… deeper! Fill us both, god of poetry! Your tongue is making our cunts kiss each other!"
The redhead's cries joined the chorus: "Mmm… feel that? His tongue is splitting me open while yours laps my clit… ahhhh, I'm going insane with pleasure!" Bragi's tongue thrust in sync, coiling inside both wombs, squeezing their sensitive spots with "squeeze squeeze" tightness that made their hips buck wildly. Their bodies slick with sweat and nectar, breasts pressing together, nipples rubbing "rub rub" as milk squirted between them in "spurt spurt" jets. For hours, he denied them, their pleas growing more frantic: "Please… our pussies are clenching so hard… let us squirt together… ahhhh, it's too much bliss!"
On the third night, as the moon hung high, Bragi sang the final verse in a deep, resonant voice that echoed through the trees: "Release, green goddesses, let your filthy lust turn to ash in the fires of ecstasy…" The first woman's nectar gushed like a massive fountain with explosive "spurt spurt" sounds, mingling with thick ropes of semen erupting from Bragi's mouth in "spurt spurt" blasts, his own cock untouched but throbbing painfully. He swallowed the corrupt lust with satisfied "gulp gulp" noises, feeling the silenced part of his soul regenerate, his tongue growing slightly longer and more potent. The redhead followed suit, her body shuddering as she sprayed her nectar in arcs, screaming "Ahhhh… finally… your tongue made me explode!"
Day Two: The Cascade of Sap and Nectar
Emboldened by his first conquests, Bragi ventured deeper into the forest on the second day, where the air grew thicker with the scent of sap and arousal. He encountered a cluster of tree spirits—hybrid creatures with bodies twisting like ancient branches in eternal ecstasy. Their forms were ethereal yet carnal: bark-like skin smooth and flexible, round breasts secreting sweet sap like hellish cum that oozed "drip drip" down their torsos, green nipples rigid and dripping with viscous fluid that smelled of forbidden forests. Their pussies sprouted flexible roots that writhed like tentacles, verdant labia soaked and pulsing with need, anuses like tight tree knots oozing sticky resin that trailed down their legs. These spirits entwined each other with lewd "coil coil" sounds, their roots fingering into asses and pussies with deep "squish squish" penetrations, bodies undulating in a dance of primal lust.
One spirit, a lithe beauty with leaves woven into her flowing green hair, approached Bragi first. Her eyes were glowing amber, her body slender but voluptuous—narrow waist flaring into wide hips, ass cheeks firm and rounded like polished wood, thighs parted to reveal her root-lined pussy, the tendrils wriggling invitingly. "Lick me, poet… make my roots bloom with your tongue," she purred, her voice like rustling leaves.
Bragi's tongue extended, morphing into a thick, veined appendage that plunged into her pussy with a wet "thrust thrust" sound, the roots coiling around it in a slimy embrace. He lapped at her inner walls, the "slurp slurp" noises mixing with her moans: "Ahhhh… your tongue is thicker than any root… stretching me wide… feel my tendrils squeezing you back!" He denied her release, his tongue swelling inside her, rubbing her g-spot with "rub rub" friction that made her body twist like a vine in wind, sap leaking from her breasts in "drip drip" streams.
He expanded the torment, drawing in more spirits. A fuller-figured one with massive breasts and thick thighs joined, her pussy engulfing his face as he split his tongue to penetrate both. Their roots intertwined with his tongue in a messy "entwine entwine" web, creating a chain of pleasure. "Mmm… fuck us linked… ahhhh, your tongue is knotting us together!" they cried, bodies grinding, anuses clenching "clench clench" as he probed them too.
For three days, he tormented them: tongue branching to fill multiple holes, sucking sap with "suck suck" vacuums, then blasting it back with "spurt spurt". Their pleas echoed: "God… too deep… our roots are throbbing… let us cum, please! Ahhhh, it's heavenly hell!" On the third night, release came in a flood of sap and nectar, Bragi gulping it down with "gulp gulp", his power growing.
Day Three: The Symphony of Branching Pleasure
By day three, Bragi faced a larger group of female Vanir and tree spirits, their bodies a tapestry of desire. The Vanir had golden skin, curvaceous forms with breasts like melons, nipples leaking milk in "spurt spurt", pussies wide and inviting. The spirits added their writhing roots, creating a hybrid orgy.
Freya's seduction boomed: "Lick us… use your poetic tongue to make us climax… ahhhh, ravage our holes!" Bragi sang loudly, his voice an epic of lust: "Oh forest spirits, my tongue shall branch to conquer every deep hollow…"
His tongue transformed into a massive branching one, penetrating five spirit pussies simultaneously with deep "thrust thrust" sounds that echoed through the woods. It divided into five long branches, each delving to the womb's core, lapping the inner walls with relentless "slurp slurp" noises that made their roots twitch and spasm. They spasmed in unison, moaning together: "Mmm… branching tongue… touching the deepest spots inside us… my roots are clenching around you… I can't take it anymore… ahhhh, too good, let me cum, god of poetry!"
He tormented them for three days and three nights: tongue morphing into spirals to clamp clits with "squeeze squeeze" tightness that made them buck wildly, spiked to rub vaginal walls making them arch "ahhhh!" with sap squirting from breasts in "spurt spurt" jets, tubular to suck nectar and blast it back with "spurt spurt" intensifying pleasure that built unbearable pressure. They writhed on the ground, moaning in poetic rhythm to his chants: "God… your tongue is ravaging me… dying of pleasure… please let us cum… ahhhh! Our cunts are throbbing for release!", tears of lust forming rivers, bodies twisting like breaking branches in a storm of denied ecstasy.
Adding to the depravity, midway through, Bragi commanded the spirits to form a chain of lewd connection, each licking the next's anus with eager "slurp slurp" tongues while his branched tongue fucked their pussies in sync, roots intertwining with his tongue in a slimy "entwine entwine" mess that created a web of flesh. Their collective moans built to a symphony: "Ahhhh… more… torment us! Knot us together in pleasure!" One spirit, with emerald bark skin and perky breasts, screamed as his tongue probed her anus too: "Feel that? Your branch in my ass while she licks my pussy… ahhhh, double torment!"
On the third night, Bragi chanted the release curse, letting them explode together with "spurt spurt" blasts, nectar and sap raining down in floods that soaked the forest floor. He gulped it all with lewd "gulp gulp" sounds, his tongue now longer, more flexible, able to branch freely.
Day Four to Day Six: The Escalating Orgy of Denial
Over the next three days, Bragi's torments escalated. He gathered more Vanir maidens, their bodies a variety of temptations: one with ebony skin, full lips, and a pussy that clenched like a vice; another with pale freckles, small but perky breasts leaking milk, her anus tight and pink. He used his tongue as a long serpent, delving deep into wombs, coiling around ovaries with tight "coil coil" sounds, lapping relentlessly making victims moan "ahhhh… too deep! You're stirring my eggs… my ovaries are pulsing!"
For bisexual hybrids, he spiked his tongue to rub prostates with slippery "rub rub" noises, making cocks throb "thump thump" and balls tighten in agony. "Ahhhh… milk me dry… my prostate is on fire!" they begged, precum dripping "drip drip".
He orchestrated group sessions, bodies stacked in lewd piles, his tongue snaking through multiple orifices: from one dripping pussy to another's tight anus to a throbbing cock. Chains of denied pleasure formed with synchronized "ahhhh!" moans and wet "slosh slosh" penetrations. Nectar and precum mixed in puddles "splash splash" below, the air filled with "slurp slurp" and "squish squish".
Each victim endured three days of torment, writhing and moaning: "God… your tongue is torturing me… dying of bliss… beg for release! Ahhhh, my holes are on fire!", before release strengthened him.
Day Seven: The Bisexual Goddesses' Torment
Bragi entered Vanaheim's center, where high-ranking Vanir goddesses held a massive breeding orgy. These bisexual beings towered like statues of desire, with colossal breasts sprouting small cocks from nipples that throbbed and leaked precum "drip drip", large rigid nipples spurting milk mixed with cum in "spurt spurt" jets. Their vast wet pussies contracted powerfully with "clench clench" sounds, anuses secreting sweet lust honey that dripped "drip drip" down their legs, main cocks between thighs long and erect, leaking precum in thick beads. Moans echoed: "Ahhhh… fuck me! Pound my holes!"
The obscene seduction was stronger: "Sing for my lust… lick my cock to release… ahhhh, swallow my seed!" Bragi countered: "Oh bisexual goddess, my tongue shall torment every hole of yours…"
He assaulted one, a goddess with golden hair cascading down her back, body glistening with sweat: skin like honey, curves exaggerated—massive breasts heaving, hips wide for birthing, thighs thick as pillars. His tongue morphed into a suction form to engulf her breast-cock with lewd "suck suck" sounds that made it twitch, clamping to deny ejaculation, while plunging into her anus to lap her prostate deep inside with wet "slosh slosh" noises that sent shivers up her spine.
The goddess shrieked: "Aaa… god's mutable tongue… invading every hole… squeezing my cock too tight… dying of pleasure… torment me, but let me cum! Ahhhh… my prostate is spasming, milk my cum out!" Her main cock throbbed "thump thump", balls heavy with need.
For three days, his tongue split into hundreds of tiny threads worming into every orifice—pussy, cock, anus—clamping with relentless "squeeze squeeze" sounds. She knelt begging: "God of poetry… your tongue is draining me dry… too much pleasure, I can't bear it… ahhhh, release me! My balls are aching!", body quaking, cock throbbing desperately as precum pooled "drip drip".
In a surge of lewdness, Bragi invited two more goddesses, their nipple-cocks rubbing against each other with slippery "rub rub" friction as his tongue wove between them, sucking one while fucking the other's ass with deep "thrust thrust" penetrations. A triangle of torment formed, milk-cum mixtures dripping "drip drip" onto his face, screams blending: "Ahhhh… share the torment… cum together denied! Knot our cocks in your mouth!"
One goddess, with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, her body athletic yet voluptuous, moaned as his tongue filled her pussy: "Feel it stretching me… ahhhh, while your friend sucks my nipple-cock… it's overload!" Their bodies intertwined, hips thrusting, creating a wet symphony of sounds.
On the third night, release: cum gushing like rivers with "spurt spurt", nectar flooding. Bragi swallowed with "gulp gulp", his tongue now singing pure lust curses.
Day Seven
Bragi entered Vanaheim's center, where high-ranking Vanir goddesses, bisexual beings with tall seductive forms that towered like statues of desire, colossal breasts sprouting small cocks from nipples that throbbed and leaked precum, large rigid nipples spurting milk mixed with cum in "spurt spurt" jets, vast wet pussies contracting powerfully with "clench clench" sounds, anuses secreting sweet lust honey that dripped "drip drip" down their legs, main cocks between thighs long and erect leaking precum in thick beads, held a massive breeding orgy with echoing moans "ahhhh… fuck me! Pound my holes!" Bodies intertwined in a heap of thrusting hips and sucking mouths. The obscene seduction was stronger than ever: "Sing for my lust… lick my cock to release… ahhhh, swallow my seed!" Bragi countered with poetry, his voice resounding like an epic: "Oh bisexual goddess, my tongue shall torment every hole of yours…" Then he orally assaulted one, a goddess with golden hair cascading down her back, her body glistening with sweat: tongue morphing into a suction form to engulf the breast-cock with lewd "suck suck" sounds that made it twitch, clamping to deny ejaculation, while plunging into her anus to lap her prostate deep inside with wet "slosh slosh" noises that sent shivers up her spine. The goddess shrieked shrilly: "Aaa… god's mutable tongue… invading every hole… squeezing my cock too tight… dying of pleasure… torment me, but let me cum! Ahhhh… my prostate is spasming, milk my cum out!" For three days and three nights, his tongue split into hundreds of tiny threads worming into every orifice—pussy, cock, anus—clamping to hold pleasure at the brink with relentless "squeeze squeeze" sounds that made her main cock throb "thump thump". She knelt begging in lustful torment: "God of poetry… your tongue is draining me dry… too much pleasure, I can't bear it… ahhhh, release me! My balls are aching!", body quaking, cock throbbing desperately as precum pooled "drip drip". On the third night, Bragi sang the release verse, letting her erupt from all holes: cum from cock gushing like a river with "spurt spurt", nectar from anus flooding out in waves. He swallowed it all with satisfied "gulp gulp" sounds, his tongue now able to sing pure lust curses.
In a surge of added lewdness, Bragi invited two more goddesses, their nipple-cocks rubbing against each other with slippery "rub rub" friction as his tongue wove between them, sucking one while fucking the other's ass with deep "thrust thrust" penetrations, creating a triangle of torment where milk-cum mixtures dripped "drip drip" onto his face, their screams blending "ahhhh… share the torment… cum together denied! Knot our cocks in your mouth!"
From the eighth day to the seventeenth, Bragi was torn apart by verdant lust thousands of times, each day a storm of depraved ecstasy that left his own cock aching and leaking. He used his mouth to force hundreds of Vanir women and hybrids to endless denied climaxes, their bodies piling in orgies of torment:
• Tongue as long serpent delving deep into wombs, coiling ovaries with tight "coil coil" sounds, lapping relentlessly making victims moan "ahhhh… too deep! You're stirring my eggs!" • Spiked tongue rubbing prostates of bisexuals with slippery "rub rub" noises, making cocks throb "thump thump" and balls tighten in agony. • Tubular tongue sucking nectar and blasting it back with "spurt spurt" pressure, victims arching "ahhhh… can't hold it! My pussy's exploding inside!"
Each victim endured three days and nights of torment, writhing and poetic moaning to his rhythm: "God… your tongue is torturing me… dying of bliss… beg for release! Ahhhh, my holes are on fire!", tears of lust streaming before freedom, their cunts and cocks twitching in unison. But each release chant reborn him stronger, his tongue branching more, allowing him to torment larger groups.
To amplify the erotic chaos, in these days Bragi orchestrated massive group sessions where victims formed towering piles of flesh, bodies stacked in lewd pyramids, his tongue snaking through multiple bodies at once like a living vine, from one dripping pussy to another's tight anus to a throbbing cock, creating chains of denied pleasure with synchronized "ahhhh!" moans and wet "slosh slosh" penetrations that echoed through the realm, nectar and precum mixing in puddles "splash splash" below.
Day Eighteen, the Final Night
All Vanir women and creatures of Vanaheim gathered in a colossal poetic orgy with echoing moans "ahhhh… sing, god! Ravish us all!" Thousands of bodies entwined Bragi in a sea of flesh: pussies engulfing his mouth with greedy "suck suck", cocks thrusting into his throat with forceful "thrust thrust" that made him gag erotically, anuses clamping his tongue with vise-like "squeeze squeeze". They howled in unison: "Sing for us… torment us… let us cum together! Ahhhh… where's your tongue? Fuck our souls with it!"
Bragi sang the final poem with a voice reaching the heavens, his tongue becoming a giant lust pen penetrating thousands of holes at once with explosive "thrust thrust" sounds that shook the ground. He tormented them all at the peak for three days and three nights: branching tongue delving deep into every pussy, anus, cock, clamping with "squeeze squeeze", lapping with "slurp slurp", sucking with "suck suck" that drew out desperate pleas. They writhed as one: "Ahhhh… god's tongue is ripping us apart… too good… torment forever but release us! Our bodies are melting in pleasure!", bodies shaking like leaves in a lust storm, breasts squirting milk "spurt spurt", cocks leaking endlessly. Then Bragi chanted the release curse. All Vanaheim quaked as thousands climaxed simultaneously: nectar, cum, sap cascading like waterfalls with horrific "spurt spurt" roars that flooded the land. Bragi gulped it all with lewd "gulp gulp" sounds, then erupted from mouth, tongue with "spurt spurt", cock, anus, nipples—a poetic explosion incinerating filthy lust, turning them to pure ash with sizzling "sizzle sizzle" final ecstasy, their last moans fading "ahhhh… thank you… we die in bliss!"
And thus Bragi was reborn.
He rose from the green field with a mighty "splash", body doubly alluring, skin gleaming in sunlight, tongue now singing pure lust curses, verses forcing enemies to endless climaxes for three days and three nights before self-immolating. His tongue could morph into anything: long serpent delving wombs with "slosh slosh", spiked rubbing prostates with "rub rub", tube sucking nectar with "suck suck", or thousands of threads invading all holes making victims moan "ahhhh!". One song could make an army writhe in denied torment until begging death in depraved lust.
Bragi strode from Vanaheim naked, tongue swinging like a giant lust pen with heavy "sway sway" sounds, leaving a trail of poetic nectar hundreds of miles long on the green earth, still vibrating as if just climaxed with echoing moans "ahhhh… god…"
He had grasped the ultimate secret:
Pure lust is not restraint.
Pure lust is singing stronger poetry with mutable tongue, licking deeper into every hole with lewd "slurp slurp", tormenting to peaks for three days and three nights with "ahhhh" moans, then releasing until enemies drown in torturous pleasure and self-immolate into poetic ash, kneeling in eternal begging.
Freya, prepare that filthy pussy of yours.
The god of poetry has returned, and this time he brings an entire epic of mutable tongue, enough to make your whole army writhe in torturous pleasure for three days and three nights, then erupt together with "spurt spurt" and dissolve in my final poem.