Serena was at the edge of the bed, her soft lips wrapped around my cock like she was savoring her favorite food which she hadn't had in a while. Her tongue swirled slowly around the head, then slid down the shaft with wet precision, every stroke deliberate, almost teasing. She pumped my length with one hand, her grip tight and practiced, while her mouth worked the tip—warm, slick, heavenly.
I didn't move. My hands hung limp at my sides. She hated it when I touched her head during a blowjob—said it ruined her rhythm.
But fuck… her rhythm was good indeed.
Every time her mouth dipped lower, her tongue curled, wrapping around me like she was trying to milk the orgasm out of me. The sloppy sounds of her sucking echoed in the room, obscene and perfect. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, blue and wicked, as if daring me to cum too soon.
And I did.
A sharp grunt escaped my throat as I came hard, thick ropes of semen spilling into her mouth. She kept her lips sealed around my shaft, gulping once, then letting me slide out. With a quick, exaggerated slurp, she cleaned the mess off the tip—then stood and padded into the washroom.
She never swallowed. Said it made her throat feel raw. I didn't complain. Watching her take it in the mouth was already a blessing.
Now that I thought about it, there were a lot of things she never let me do, eating her out? She said it felt I was degrading myself, licking her body? She didn't like the feeling, using her ass? She had never done it before and it'd hurt a lot.
There were a lot of things I wanted to do with her, and to her, but now was not the time to linger on those thoughts.
When she returned, I was already dressed, coat buttoned up.
Once she wore hers we left the room behind us taking our backpacks with us.
"You were harder than usual," she murmured with a teasing grin, "and you came a lot."
I just nodded, still feeling the ghost of her mouth around me.
She leaned in, her voice softer. "You really do like your wife looking like a brothel slut, don't you?"
"You just looked… insanely pretty," I replied.
She didn't answer—just smiled that dangerous, beautiful smile of hers.
***
We arrived at the brothel exactly at the decided time. The staff had already been paid—and threatened—into silence. No one here would remember our faces, not unless they wanted theirs rearranged.
The plan was simple: I'd pose as a waiter and serve Malek the poisoned drink. Serena would be with him inside his private room. Once the poison kicked in, she'd slip the ring off his finger and wait fifteen minutes before leaving. She'd tell his guards he had passed out after a long session, and from the hallway, he'd just look like a man sleeping off pleasure. That's when we'd vanish.
The brothel wasn't busy tonight. A few customers lounged lazily on silk cushions while half-naked whores drifted between them like smoke. Other waiters moved between tables, balancing trays and avoiding eye contact. No one looked too closely. That was good.
"Let's do this," Serena said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. Her voice was calm, but her eyes held that familiar edge, she had worn the veil on her face before entering the brothel.
Then, without hesitation, she unbuttoned her coat and handed it to me.
Right there, in the middle of the brothel.
Every curve of her body was on shameless display, wrapped in nothing but wisps of sheer red fabric that clung like a second skin. Her nipples pressed boldly against the translucent veil across her chest. Her barely covered long legs were visible to everyone in the room.
Many customers looked at her, but she didn't care.
I tried not to stare. But, it didn't work.
"Just getting warmed up," she said with a wink, then turned and headed toward the owner's office, heels clicking on the wooden floor.
I exhaled and made my way to the kitchen.
I ignored the glances from the staff as I slipped behind the counter. Focused only on the drink. The glass was already set aside, just as we planned. I mixed the poison in smoothly, stirred once, then set it on a tray like any other order.
Minutes passed before another waiter slid into the room beside me and leaned in close.
"You're up," he whispered.
I nodded, picked up the tray, and stepped out of the kitchen.
It was time to deliver death.
By the time I reached the main hall, the plan was already in motion.
Malek stood in the center, flanked by his guards. He looked just as expected—pushing sixty, a fat, balding toad of a man with the smug air of someone used to getting what he wanted.
Across from him stood Rehana, the brothel's owner, her face a mask of professionalism. Beside her, Serena.
I slowed as I got closer, just in time to catch the tail end of their exchange.
"A lady from the deserts, you say?" Malek asked, his voice oily as his eyes dragged across Serena's barely-covered body. His gaze lingered too long on her breasts, then dropped even lower, drinking her in like she was already on the menu.
"Freshly brought in," Rehana replied with a practiced smile, gently nudging Serena toward him.
Serena walked forward without hesitation, hips swaying with a sultry confidence that made my chest ache.
Before she could even finish crossing the floor, Malek reached out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him like he was claiming a prize. His fat hand landed on her waist, fingers sinking into the curve of her body. He stared at her face, studying the veil, but his real focus was in her eyes—those icy blue eyes that sparkled with just enough seduction to sell the illusion.
I was standing close enough now to see every part of it. And gods, I hated it. Every touch, every glance—it made me want to rip Malek's hand off at the wrist. But buried under the disgust was something else. Something low, hot, and shameful that curled in my gut like smoke.
Rehana took the glass and passed the drink to Malek without a word.
He took it and downed half of it in one go. Then, with a satisfied sigh, he turned to Serena and slapped her ass hard enough that the sound echoed off the walls.
"You ready to serve me, little thing?" he sneered—and smacked her again.
"Yes," Serena answered, the smile behind her veil delicate and slutty.
I froze.
Malek looked at Rehana. She nodded.
Without another word, he wrapped an arm around Serena's waist and led her toward the private rooms, groping her ass the entire walk. She kept close to him, her posture perfect, her eyes never leaving his face.
They passed by me. Malek shoved the half-empty glass onto the tray in my hands and muttered, "Bring me something stronger when I'm done."
I tried to look at Serena, tried to read her expression, but her eyes were locked on him, unblinking. Maybe it was easier that way.
The door closed behind them with a heavy click.
The guards relaxed, some peeling off to enjoy the services themselves. The tension in the air shifted.
Rehana turned to me with narrowed eyes.
"You! Come with me!" she barked. "What the hell did you give our esteemed guest?"
I followed her to her small private office. She shut the door behind us and dropped into her chair with a sigh.
"How long now?" she asked.
I glanced at the glass still sitting on the tray. "Four, five minutes tops."
"Think she can keep him entertained that long?"
"There's no other option," I said, trying not to sound bitter. But the knot in my chest twisted tighter. Would she have to do anything?
The thought alone made my stomach churn—and yet a flicker of arousal surfaced, uninvited. I hated it. Hated myself for feeling it.
"He better die," Rehana muttered.
Rehana's mother and sister were raped and killed by that bastard, so it made sense for her to be this anxious about this ordeal.
I nodded, jaw clenched, and left the room.
Back outside, I slipped back into the role of the waiter, moving between tables, pretending to care about customers. Every second felt like an eternity.
Then, finally, the door to the private room opened.
Serena stepped out, her outfit intact. Her body language calm. As soon as we made eye contact she shifted her gaze to one of Malek's men.
The man approached her. They exchanged a few words. He peeked into the room, then said something else—and suddenly grabbed her ass, grinding against her like he had the right.
Serena looked straight at me while it happened.
Then she pushed him away.
They spoke again, shorter this time, and he backed off.
She turned and walked into Rehana's office, subtly signaling me to follow.
I joined them moments later.
Inside, both women were smiling.
"What happened?" I asked, eyes flicking to Serena.
"He's dead," Rehana said, grinning like she'd just won a war.
"No shit," I said. "I meant—what did he do to you?"
"Nothing," Serena said, peeling off her veil. "He was impotent."