Thanks to KKDAP & GGbeejee for donating me via Patreon. I got motivated to write this chapter after seeing the Patreon emails. So from that POV this chapter is sponsored by these two legends.
***
The sound came first.
Someone was clapping or clapping.
A rhythmic clap, flesh against flesh. At first faint, distant, like an echo traveling through an endless void. But slowly, it grew louder. Closer. Until it felt as if the source of the noise was right in front of me, hammering into my ears.
Everything else was black. Utterly, suffocatingly black. No light, no air, no sensation. Only that sound.
And then came the moans.
Distorted at first, like they were being filtered through water. A muffled cry, a gasp, a plea. But the longer I listened, the clearer it became, until I recognized it.
Serena's voice.
My wife's.
A shiver ran through me. She was moaning for someone… not me. The thought should have crushed me, but instead it twisted in my gut, perverse excitement blooming where outrage should have been. Even without touch, without sight, my cock stirred in the darkness.
And then the void split.
A shape emerged above me, and suddenly I was no longer drifting in nothingness,I was flat on my back. My breath caught as my vision sharpened, the sight before me burning into my skull.
Serena.
Her body straddled me, or rather, straddled someone, but in this void it was my eyes that drank in everything. Her breasts bounced wildly, perfect curves shaking with each brutal thrust pounding up into her. Her dark hair spilled down, strands brushing across my face as if taunting me with her closeness. Her eyes, half-lidded, glassy, shining even against the backdrop of endless black, looked down, though not at me. They were lost in pleasure.
"Deeper! Go deeper!" she screamed, her voice echoing like a prayer through the void.
I tried to reach out, to seize her waist, to feel her warmth, but my arms wouldn't move. My lips wouldn't part. I was paralyzed, forced to watch as the forbidden scene unfolded above me, as if the void itself had shackled me in place.
Each thrust sent shockwaves up through her body, her ass rippling, her tits bouncing harder, her moans rising higher. She was breathtaking, utterly consumed, and not mine in that moment.
My chest heaved in silence. My throat ached to speak her name, to scream, to curse, but nothing came out.
And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the vision cracked apart. The light, her body, her voice, all of it crumbled into shadow.
Darkness swallowed me again.
Black, numb, stimulus-less nothing. Only my own pounding heartbeat remained, echoing in the hollow cage of silence.
***
I woke with a sharp gasp, lungs burning as though I'd clawed my way out of drowning. My body was drenched in sweat, my hair plastered to my forehead. Panting heavily, I forced myself upright, only to wince as pain flared through every joint and muscle.
The room was drenched in midday sunlight that poured through half-drawn curtains, the air thick with the pungent mix of herbs and ointments. Gusts of wind came from the window, keeping the temperature normal. I blinked, trying to steady my vision. A single cot creaked beneath me, and rough bandages bound most of my body. The setting was unfamiliar, far too quiet for comfort.
Then the memories surged back, jagged and cruel. The ambush. Steel and blood. The red stone crushed before me, stealing away our abilities. Serena's flames extinguished. My desperation. The ring.
My gaze snapped to my right hand. There it was, still snug on my finger, its surface glistening a deep, dangerous purple in the sunlight. The Ring of Catastrophe.
And with that memory came the dream. Serena's voice. The moans. My chest tightened, a mix of dread and shame clawing at me. It had to have been some twisted sleep-paralysis illusion, my mind fracturing under exhaustion and trauma. Still, the aftertaste of it clung to me, bitter and heavy.
Serena.
Where was she?
"Serena!" My voice cracked as I tried to push myself up from the bed. Agony spiked through my legs, my body refusing to obey. Even my arms trembled under my own weight. "Serena!"
The silence dragged for what felt like minutes before soft steps echoed against the wooden floorboards. The door creaked, and then she was there.
Serena.
She rushed in, relief bright in her eyes. "You're awake," she breathed, a smile breaking across her face as she hurried toward me. Without hesitation, she leaned down and wrapped herself around me.
Her warmth flooded against me, her body pressing tightly into mine. I hissed as the pressure ground against bruises and bandages, but for a moment I didn't care. I just held her. Her scent felt a little weird, but it was probably my senses not working properly.
"Serena… too tight," I groaned finally, the pain catching up to me.
She pulled back, cheeks flushed. "Oh, sorry." She sat down at the edge of the bed, facing me, her expression softer now.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been trampled by horses. But alive, somehow." I let out a bitter laugh before steadying myself. "What happened? After the ambush?"
Her smile faded into something graver. "After you put on the ring… everything ended. They all died in an instant. And then you collapsed. All your body opening began to bleed, eyes, mouth, nose and even down there. You wouldn't wake up no matter what I tried." She exhaled, glancing at my bandages. "I dragged you onto the horse and kept riding until I found the nearest village. That's where I met Hartwell, he's a doctor. He took us in and has been treating you since."
I let that sink in, then asked, "Where is he now?"
"In the washroom," she said simply.
I nodded, but my mind was already elsewhere. "Serena… can you use your abilities now?"
Her jaw tightened, and she slowly raised a hand. A small flame flickered to life in her palm, weak, dim, barely the size of a candle. It sputtered faintly, casting little more than a glow.
"This is all I can do now," she admitted, voice laced with frustration. "It feels like I've been thrown back to the very beginning. All I can form is this… torch." She closed her hand, snuffing out the fire.
"Fuck," I muttered, anger knotting in my chest. "That stone… what the hell was it? And those people—who were they?"
Serena's eyes darkened. "I don't know. But they weren't strangers. They came from home. I recognized the accents, the way they moved." She paused before adding, "I showed Hartwell their corpses. He knew them, said they were mercenaries from Wynthorpe."
Wythorpe. It was the kingdom where they came from. Where they took up the mission.
"So, the commissioner of the mission was trying to cut costs?" I muttered, half to myself.
"Maybe. Or maybe those people were never tied to the commissioner at all," Serena replied, her tone thoughtful.
"Either way," I said firmly, "we can't go back home now. If the ambush wasn't their doing, then we'll have no choice but to hand over the ring. But…"
"But first, we'll have to pry it off your hand," she finished for me. Her eyes lingered on my fingers, on the cursed purple glint. "That means going east. To the elves."
I sighed, leaning back into the creaking bed. "A detour it is, then."
The truth was undeniable. Across all the lands, only the elves of the east possessed the ancient arcane knowledge to safely strip the Ring of Catastrophe from a human host. To anyone else, it was a death sentence waiting to happen.
Before I could dwell on it further, the door opened again.
A man stepped in, bald, mid-forties, with a neatly trimmed goatee and spectacles that gave him a studious air. He was dressed plainly, a dark brown tunic and simple trousers, but his presence carried quiet pleasantness.
"Hey, Nash. How are you feeling?" he asked.
"A lot better," I answered honestly, "thanks to you."
He smiled. "Serena told you who I am?"
I nodded.
"Good, saves me the awkward introductions." He chuckled softly. "Anyway, your body's healing well. The only real damage is from the ring, it drained your life force. I'd estimate it shaved about a month off your lifespan."
The words landed heavily, but not as a shock. I had known the moment I slipped that cursed ring onto my finger that I would pay for it. I'd accepted it. For Serena's sake.
I only gave him a small nod. Serena, though, looked stricken, her brows pinched with worry.
"You're taking this… surprisingly well," Hartwell remarked. "Good. You'll recover fully within a week or two of pure rest. As for the stone that stripped away your abilities… I have no answers."
"Thank you, Hartwell," I said quietly, meaning it.
"No worries. Just focus on healing," he said with a kind smile. "I'll leave you two alone."
He turned and stepped out, but as my gaze followed him, something caught my eye.
Serena.
She wasn't in her usual clothes. Instead, she wore a loose tunic that fell to her thighs, nothing underneath, no skirt, no trousers. And the design… it was nearly identical to the one Hartwell had on.
"What are you wearing?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended.
She glanced down at herself. "Oh, this? Our clothes burned during the ambush. Hartwell lent us some of his. You're in his clothes too, you know."
"I see," I muttered, too quickly. "I've just… never seen you in something like that."
She smiled faintly, unconcerned. "Oh, alright."
But I was already overthinking it. My chest tightened, my heart hammering for reasons I couldn't admit out loud. My wife. In another man's clothes. Moving freely in his house. The thought twisted me inside, a knot of jealousy and arousal tangling together until it burned low in my gut.
As if summoned, Hartwell's voice called from the doorway, "Serena, I'm sorry, but I could really use your help in the kitchen."
She glanced back at me apologetically. "Just a minute!" she called, then leaned down to press a soft kiss against my lips. "I'll bring you something to eat. You must be starving."
I forced a smile, saying nothing.
She turned to leave. At that moment, a gust of wind slipped in through the open window, tugging the hem of her tunic up. Just enough for me to catch the view of her perfectly round ass.
Bare.
She chuckled lightly, pulling the cloth back down before slipping out of the room. "Oops."
The door clicked shut.
I lay there frozen for a heartbeat. Then the blood surged south. My hand slid down almost without thought, and I wrapped it around my member, stroking slowly at first, then faster as images crowded my mind.
Serena. In that tunic. Bent over in Hartwell's kitchen. His hands on her hips. Her moans mixing with the creak of this same wooden floor.
My breath hitched, my body shuddered. The more I imagined it, the more unbearable it became.
And then, like poison sweetened with honey, another thought slipped into me.
What if it hadn't been an illusion? That dream. That sleep paralysis vision of Serena riding someone above me. What if it had been real? What if she'd been right here, in this very bed, getting fucked while I lay helpless beneath them?
The fantasy tore through me like wildfire. My body spasmed, and release ripped out of me with raw intensity, leaving me trembling and breathless.
Cloud nine, and guilt right behind it.
***
Author's note -
My irl schedule is very fucked, I write a chapter and upload it as soon as I am done writing, no bakclog or anything. I am trying my best to do 2 chaps a week. I am also writing a Royal Road LitRPG fantasy book on the side along with college, so I am really trying. I am sorry for not uploading more consistently.