My knee bounces under the table as I check the time for what must be the hundredth time. The candle we lit when we first sat down has barely melted a quarter-inch, but it feels like we've been waiting for hours.
"Do you think he'll show up?" I ask, drumming my fingers against the worn wooden surface of the table.
Sirre leans back in her chair, stretching like a contented cat. The flickering candlelight dances across her features, highlighting the mischievous gleam in her emerald eyes.
"I don't know," she says with a dismissive shrug. "He's always been a coward."
Room 4 feels smaller tonight, more intimate. The bed looms large in my peripheral vision, sheets freshly changed and turned down invitingly. I've positioned our table to give me the perfect view of whatever might transpire there. My body already thrums with anticipation, a pleasant warmth spreading through my core despite Agof's continued absence.
Sirre reaches across the table, her slender fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of my hand. "You know," she purrs, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, "what if that pathetic little knight actually manages to please me?"
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"
A slow, predatory smile spreads across Sirre's face. She leans forward, her ample cleavage threatening to spill from her deliberately low-cut dress.
"What if he fucks me so good that I forget all about you?" she teases, her eyes never leaving mine. "What if his cock pokes me in ways yours never could? What if he makes me scream so loud the whole inn hears me?"
My breath catches in my throat, arousal and jealousy warring within me. Sirre notices my reaction and presses her advantage, sliding her foot up my calf under the table.
"What if I decide to run away with him?" she continues, her voice a silken purr. "Leave this little inn behind and become a knight's wife instead?"
Before I can respond, Sirre's expression changes, the playful seductress vanishing in an instant. Her eyes narrow, pupils contracting to pinpoints.
"I'd sooner kill him than do that, baby," she hisses, her voice suddenly ice-cold and deadly serious. "I'd tear his heart from his chest while it still beats."
I shiver at the intensity of her words, a strange thrill coursing through me. Before I can respond, Sirre rises from her chair in one fluid motion. She circles the table with deliberate steps, her hips swaying hypnotically. Without warning, she straddles me, the weight of her settling comfortably on my thighs as her arms loop around my neck.
"Are you scared?" she whispers, her lips brushing against my ear. Her breath is warm, sending goosebumps cascading down my spine.
"No," I manage, though my voice betrays me by cracking.
Sirre chuckles, the sound rich and dark like honey mixed with poison. She nuzzles into my neck, her lips tracing a scorching path from my collarbone to my jaw. Each kiss leaves a mark of fire on my skin.
"Maybe I should let him have me completely," she murmurs between kisses. "Let him think he's conquered what belongs to you." Her teeth graze my earlobe, tugging gently. "Would you like that, my love? Watching that fool thrust away, thinking he's won something?"
My hands find her waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress. I can feel her heat through the thin material, her body practically radiating desire.
"What if he's bigger than you expected?" Sirre continues, rolling her hips against mine in a slow, tortuous rhythm. "What if he stretches me out so much it ruins my pussy?" Her lips find a particularly sensitive spot beneath my ear, and I can't suppress a groan.
Just as quickly as she stokes my jealousy, she pulls back to look me in the eyes, her expression suddenly fierce. "But if he ever tried to take me from you," her voice drops to a dangerous whisper, "I'd carve him open like a festival pig."
Her hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks with surprising tenderness. "I'd pluck out his eyes for daring to look at you with malice," she continues, the casual way she describes such violence somehow making it more chilling. "I'd cut out his tongue for speaking against you."
Sirre's lips brush against mine, not quite a kiss but a promise of one. "No one hurts what's mine," she breathes, her words falling like a vow between us.
The contradiction of her, promising to cuckold me one moment and swearing bloody protection the next, makes my head spin. I'm achingly hard now, trapped beneath her warm weight.
"Do you think he'll last more than a minute?" she asks, suddenly playful again, grinding down deliberately against my erection. "Or will he spill himself the moment I let him inside me?"
Her warm breath tickles my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "How long would you even want him to last, my love?" Sirre whispers, her voice husky with desire. "A few pathetic thrusts? Or hours of watching him try to please me?"
The sudden knock at the door cuts through our intimate moment like a blade. Three sharp raps, hesitant yet demanding attention.
Sirre's expression shifts instantly, her emerald eyes narrowing with annoyance. The predatory playfulness vanishes, replaced by irritation at the interruption of our foreplay. With a frustrated sigh, she disentangles herself from my lap.
"Perfect timing," she mutters sarcastically, smoothing down her dress with practiced hands. Her fingers linger at her neckline, adjusting it to show just enough cleavage to be enticing without seeming desperate.
She leans down, capturing my lips in a kiss so deep and possessive it leaves me breathless. There's a message in it, a reminder that no matter what happens next, she belongs to me.
"Showtime," she whispers against my lips before pulling away.
I watch as Sirre crosses the room, her hips swaying with deliberate sensuality. Each step is measured, calculated to build anticipation. My wife, newly a performer, preparing for her role.
She opens the door with a fluid motion, revealing Agof standing awkwardly in the hallway. His armor is gone, replaced by what must be his finest civilian clothes, a shirt too tight across his shoulders and trousers that have clearly been hastily pressed.
"You actually came," Sirre says, her voice pitched perfectly between surprise and amusement. "I thought you might chicken out."
Agof's face flushes crimson. He clutches a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand, the stems already crushed from his nervous grip. "I... I brought these for you," he stammers, thrusting them toward her.
Sirre accepts them with a gracious nod, though I catch the subtle roll of her eyes as she turns to place them on the nearby dresser. "How thoughtful," she says, her tone making it impossible to tell if she's sincere or mocking.
"May I come in?" Agof asks, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dart past Sirre to where I sit, widening when he realizes I'm already there.
"That is why we're all here, isn't it?" Sirre steps aside, gesturing him in with a flourish that borders on theatrical.
Agof hesitates at the threshold, his courage visibly faltering. For a moment, I think he might turn and flee, but then his shoulders square with determination. He steps into the room, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight.
"I didn't think you'd actually be here," he says to me, a challenge in his voice despite the nervous sweat beading on his brow.
Sirre's face contorts with sudden fury. "Do not address my husband unless he desires it!" she snaps, her voice cracking like a whip through the room. Her eyes flash dangerously, that hint of violet power briefly illuminating her irises. The flowers fall to the floor.
I quickly wave my hands, trying to defuse the situation before it escalates. "It's okay, Sirre," I say, keeping my voice calm and measured. "Let's not get worked up before we even begin."
Sirre takes a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders visibly easing as she forces herself to relax. She turns to Agof, who's shrunk back a step, looking like he might bolt for the door at any moment.
"How do you want me?" she asks, her voice deliberately sultry despite the annoyance still tightening the corners of her mouth.
Agof shifts his weight from foot to foot, suddenly looking very young and uncertain. The bravado that carried him through the door seems to have evaporated like morning mist.
"Shouldn't we do some, um, foreplay first?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You know... kissing and such?" A deep blush spreads across his cheeks, creeping down his neck and disappearing beneath his collar.
"No kissing," I say firmly, the words coming out sharper than I intended. The thought of his lips on Sirre's sends an unpleasant jolt through me, different from the delicious jealousy I usually crave.
Agof's head snaps toward me, his brow furrowing. "Is it really up to you?" he challenges, a flash of his earlier defiance returning.
Sirre turns slowly to face him, her emerald eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees as she fixes him with a glare that could strip paint from walls. She doesn't speak, doesn't need to, the message is crystal clear.
"Alright, alright," Agof backpedals quickly, raising his hands in surrender. He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat. "Could I, um... take you from behind?" he asks, his voice cracking on the final word.
The crudeness of his request hangs in the air between us. I watch Sirre's reaction carefully, curious how she'll respond to such a direct approach after Agof's fumbling attempts at romance moments before.
To my surprise, a slow smile spreads across her face. Not the warm, loving smile she reserves for me, but something predatory and calculating that sends a shiver down my spine.
"How bold," she purrs, stalking toward him with deliberate steps. "I didn't think you had it in you, Agof."
Agof's eyes widen as Sirre approaches him, his confidence faltering with each step she takes. He backs up until his legs hit the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit down abruptly.
Sirre pauses, a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. She turns toward me, that wild smile still playing on her lips.
"Why don't we make this more interesting?" she purrs, her voice dripping with wicked promise.
Before I can respond, she saunters over to where I sit, her hips swaying hypnotically. In one fluid motion, she hikes up her dress and hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her lace panties. My breath catches as she slowly slides them down her shapely legs, the fabric pooling at her ankles before she delicately steps out of them.
Sirre turns, presenting her bare ass to a wide-eyed Agof as she bends over me. Her hands grip my shoulders for support, her face hovering inches from mine. The scent of her arousal fills my nostrils, heady and intoxicating.
"Alright, Agof," she calls over her shoulder, her voice husky with desire. "Go wild."
I watch Agof's face transform with awe as he stares at my wife's exposed pussy. His mouth hangs slightly open, eyes glazed with lust and disbelief.
"You're... you're already wet," he stammers, his voice cracking with desire.
Sirre chuckles, the vibration of her laugh traveling through her hands into my shoulders. "Hmm, I guess I am," she murmurs, leaning forward to place a tender peck on my lips.
Her breath is hot against my ear as she whispers, "Do you want to offer him a taste, love?"
My stomach tightens with that familiar mix of jealousy and arousal. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I'm certain both Sirre and Agof can hear it. My cock strains painfully against my trousers, aching for attention. I manage a nod, unable to form words as desire clogs my throat.
Sirre's eyes search mine intently, looking for any sign of hesitation or regret. Finding none, she smiles, that special smile reserved only for me, full of love and understanding. Then, without breaking our gaze, she speaks to Agof.
"Agof, would you perhaps like to taste me first?" Her voice is sweet poison, an invitation impossible to refuse.
I watch over Sirre's shoulder as Agof practically falls to his knees behind her, his movements clumsy with eagerness. His hands shake visibly as they reach for my wife's hips, hovering just inches from her skin as if afraid to make contact.
"May I?" he asks, his voice barely audible.
Sirre's laugh is low and wicked, curling up from her chest. She glances back at Agof, her ass jutting out invitingly, her green eyes sharp and merciless. "Oh, come on," she says, drawing out the words. "You paid six silver to have your way with a married woman, didn't you? Or are you just going to stand there and drool over it?"
Agof lets out a shaky breath and, emboldened by her taunt, buries his face between her thighs. His hands grip her hips, almost reverent at first, then greedy as the animal urge overtakes him. I watch, mesmerized and aching, as his tongue laps at her folds, the sounds wet and obscene in the hush of the candlelit room.
Sirre moans, a sound that vibrates right through my chest. She keeps her eyes fixed on mine, her expression a wild blend of triumph and lust. Each flick of Agof's tongue draws another gasp or shiver from her, but it's the way she never looks away from me that makes my heart pound so violently I worry I'll pass out.
She reaches back, grabbing a handful of Agof's hair, grinding his face harder into her, smearing his nose and chin with her juices. "That's it, little knight," she purrs, her voice thick, "don't stop now. Show me you can do something useful with that mouth."
He groans into her pussy, desperate and eager, and I can see him rutting helplessly against the edge of the bed, his cock tenting the front of his pants. The sight is so raw, so animal, that I can't help but shove a hand down to my own aching cock and stroke myself through my trousers.
Sirre's laughter is breathless now, each exhale a ragged moan. She leans forward, bracing herself on my shoulders, her breasts nearly spilling from her dress. She kisses me hard, biting my lip as her body trembles with pleasure. "You like watching, don't you?" she pants.
I nod, unable to speak, so lost in the moment I think I might die from wanting her.
Sirre's nimble fingers find my belt buckle, working it loose with practiced ease. Her eyes never leave mine as she undoes the clasp, the sound of leather sliding through fabric oddly loud in the room despite Agof's enthusiastic slurping. She tugs my trousers down with unexpected force, the fabric pooling around my ankles as my cock springs free, already painfully hard and leaking.
"Oh my," she gasps, her voice breathy and teasing. She wraps her delicate fingers around my shaft, giving it a slow, torturous stroke that makes my hips buck involuntarily. "Look at how excited you are, watching this pathetic knight worship me."
Agof moans louder between her legs, his tongue delving deeper. Sirre's eyes flutter momentarily, a genuine shudder of pleasure rippling through her body. She leans closer, her lips brushing against my ear as her hand continues its maddening rhythm on my cock.
"Mmm, I hate to admit it, my love," she whispers, her voice thick with pleasure, "but his tongue is longer than yours. It's reaching places inside me you've never touched." Her teeth graze my earlobe, sending electricity down my spine. "He's licking so deep I can almost feel him in my womb."
Before I can process her words, Sirre drops to her knees before me, still maintaining her bent position for Agof. In one fluid motion, she takes my entire length into her mouth, swallowing me to the base without hesitation. The wet heat of her mouth engulfs me completely, her throat constricting around my tip as she deepthroats me.
A pathetic whimper escapes my lips, the sensation overwhelming after so much teasing. My hands find her hair, fingers tangling in the silky auburn strands as she begins to bob her head in rhythm with Agof's eager ministrations.
Sirre pulls back slightly, my cock still resting on her tongue as she looks up at me. Her emerald eyes, though glazed with pleasure, search mine with unmistakable concern. She releases me with a wet pop, her hand replacing her mouth as she continues to stroke me.
"Are you okay, my love?" she asks softly, her voice barely audible over Agof's enthusiastic moans. "Is this good for you? We can stop if it's too much."
The tenderness in her question nearly undoes me. Even in the midst of this depraved scene, with another man's face buried between her legs, her first concern is for my comfort, my pleasure. My heart swells with love for her, even as my cock throbs with desperate need.
"Don't stop," I manage to gasp out, my voice hoarse with desire. "Please, don't stop."
Sirre laughs, wet and wicked, and wipes the glistening mess of my precum across her lips like warpaint. She looks up at me with a gaze so intense it makes my balls ache.
"My love," she purrs, stroking my cock with slow, deliberate motions. "Is it time for the main course?"
I nod, unable to trust my voice, and she rewards me with a kiss on the tip so gentle I nearly sob.
"Good," she whispers. She lets go, turning her focus to the quivering knight still kneeling behind her. "Agof, it's time to fuck me. Chop chop."
Agof looks up, his face shiny with Sirre's juices, his mouth working open and shut like a beached trout. "O-okay," he manages, the word muffled by a thick, trembling tongue. He fumbles at his pants, barely able to work the buttons, his hands shaking so badly he almost rips the fabric.
When he finally frees himself, his cock flops out, unimpressive and a little sad. Sirre's eyes flick down, and for a split second, I see the disgust in her expression. She hides it quick, biting her lip as if she's overcome with lust, but I know her too well. She's putting on a show, for me.
"Can I just, uh, go in bareback?" Agof asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Sirre shoots him a look so cold the candle flame seems to gutter. "Absolutely not," she says. "There are condoms on the table. Use one."
Agof scurries over, grabbing the pouch with both hands like a starving man at a feast. He tears it open, nearly dropping the slippery magic polymer sheath. It's the cheap kind, purple and shiny, and he struggles to roll it on.
Sirre shifts, presenting herself on all fours at the edge of the bed, her ass high and inviting. She glances over her shoulder, catching my eye, and gives me a wink so exaggerated I nearly lose it right there.
"Ready, knight?" she asks, her voice mocking and sweet all at once.
Agof nods, lining himself up, and pushes in. He groans immediately, his head falling back, eyes rolling up. Sirre barely reacts, her face carefully blank, but I can tell she's bored already.
Agof starts pumping away, his rhythm awkward and offbeat, hips slapping wetly against Sirre's ass. It's the kind of thrusting that looks exhausting without being remotely effective. Sirre's eyes roll again, her lips pursing in a display of exaggerated boredom.
She glances up at me, her expression so deadpan it's almost comedic. For my benefit, she lets out a forced moan, the fakest thing I've ever heard escape her throat. "Oh gods, Agof," she drawls, "you're so... so... adequate."
I nearly choke on a laugh, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a jolt of pleasure as Sirre takes me back into her mouth again, her tongue swirling expertly around the head of my cock. She hums, the vibrations sending a shudder straight down my spine. The contrast is stark, the knight's frantic rutting behind her, and my wife's absolute mastery in front.
Agof's tempo gets more erratic, his hands gripping Sirre's hips as he tries desperately to keep himself together. His face is a mask of concentration and panic, sweat beading on his forehead as he huffs and grunts.
"Are you close, Agof?" Sirre calls back, her voice muffled by my cock but still perfectly intelligible. "You sound like you're running a race."
He lets out a strangled yelp and, with a final desperate thrust, collapses forward onto her back, his whole body shuddering as he unloads into the condom. He stays there for a moment, panting and twitching, before slumping down onto the floorboards like a marionette with its strings cut.
Sirre sighs heavily as she unsheathes my cock from her mouth. She turns, glaring over her shoulder at the sweaty, spent knight sprawled on the floor.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she snaps, her patience clearly gone. "My husband wanted a show, not some premature little squire who can't last two minutes."
Agof's face goes from red to ashen in a heartbeat. He stares up at Sirre, lip quivering. "No, please, just give me one more chance," he begs, scrambling to his knees. His cock flaccid, bobs pathetically as he pleads. "I can do better! I'll fuck you so good you'll be begging to be mine!"
Sirre barely glances at him.
"No," she says, her voice flat and final. "You've had your turn. Now you get to watch a real man fuck me."