The sound came again.
Flesh meeting flesh. That wet, rhythmic clap.
It had become a nightly ritual, haunting me like some twisted lullaby.
My eyes were open, staring up at the wooden ceiling bathed in pale moonlight. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. My entire body was trapped in that strange half-sleep, half-waking paralysis.
And yet, my cock was hard.
Each slap was followed by a muffled moan, her voice. Serena's voice. The fire in my chest roared hotter with every sound. The shame, the rage, the arousal… all of it tangled into something unholy that I couldn't control.
"Make me cum! Please!"
Her mumbled words echoed in the quiet room, barely above a whisper but loud enough to burn into my skull.
The slaps grew faster. Louder. Until, suddenly, they stopped.
For a few heartbeats, there would be nothing but silence. Then it will begin again. And again. The cycle would repeat for what felt like hours, until exhaustion would finally claim me and I would drift into a restless, dreamless sleep.
A couple of days had passed since I first woke up.
I could do little more than lie on the bed, pain still shooting through my legs whenever I tried to move. The days blurred together, marked only by when Serena would come to me. Sometimes she'd feed me, her gentle hands holding a spoon to my lips. Sometimes she'd sit next to me, just talking softly about the future, how things would be better once we got the ring removed.
But most of the time, she was gone. Helping Hartwell tend to his patients. Cooking. Cleaning. Working as though she'd lived in this house her entire life.
I was grateful, truly. He'd saved me. Given us shelter. But every time she left the room with him, a bitter thorn twisted in my chest.
It made no sense. Or maybe it made too much sense.
Maybe it was just my own depravity poisoning my thoughts. Maybe I was projecting my fetish, my sickness, onto them. But some nights… some nights, I felt what I was hearing wasn't some sick dream, but reality.
But, I didn't want to know the truth.
The thought terrified me. If she was cheating, I'd be… happy. If she wasn't, I'd be sad. That fact alone made my stomach twist.
I didn't want to face that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The sound came again, sharp and wet, snapping me out of my thoughts. My breath grew ragged, my hips twitching beneath the sheets. I hated it and craved it all at once.
My body betrayed me, the heat building until it was unbearable, and still I couldn't move.
The last thing I heard before the medicine dragged me back into sleep was her soft, breathless cry, and the faint thud of the bedframe against the wall.
When I woke the next morning, something felt different.
The weight in my legs was gone. No pain, no stiffness, just a strange, miraculous lightness.
"Serena!" I called out, my voice breaking from disuse.
I swung my legs over the bed, pushing myself up until I was standing on my own for the first time in a week. My knees wobbled, but they held. A grin tugged at my lips as I took a slow, careful step forward.
"Serena!" I called again, louder this time, as I made my way toward the door.
For the first time, I stepped out of the room and into the rest of Hartwell's house. The air felt different here, warmer, faintly smelling of herbs and smoke. The living room was empty, the hearth cold.
To my right, a door stood closed. Hartwell's room.
I hesitated for a moment, then gripped the handle and pushed it open.
"Serena!"
Inside, Hartwell stood near the bed, pulling on a pair of trousers. He froze at the sight of me.
"Nash! You can walk now?"
I barely heard him. My eyes swept the room. Two tunics were tossed carelessly across the bed, and there, beneath the sheets, was Serena, her body was completely covered, her breathing slow and even. I could only spot her head as she was lying on her side with her back towards me.
My throat tightened.
Hartwell's expression softened when he caught the look on my face. "It's nothing strange," he said quickly. "I wake early to bathe and change before she gets up. It's awkward to do it when she is awake."
His words sounded rehearsed, but I noticed the damp shine of his goatee.
"…I see." I said slowly, forcing my voice to remain neutral. "I woke up and found I could walk, so I wandered here."
"That's good. But you shouldn't be pushing yourself yet." He pulled a tunic over his head. "Go back to your room and rest. I'll wake Serena and bring her to you."
Before I could argue, Hartwell was at my side, steadying me with one hand and guiding me back down the hallway. My legs were too weak to resist, and soon I was back in the room I'd started from, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He left without another word, and I exhaled heavily.
A few minutes later, the door opened again.
Serena stepped in, her bare legs glistening faintly in the morning light, one of Hartwell's oversized tunics hanging loosely from her shoulders. She hadn't bothered with pants or underclothes, and the sight of her thighs nearly made me forget how to breathe.
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me, pressing me against her warmth.
"Looks like someone's feeling better," she said softly against my ear.
The tunic she wore… it was identical to the one I'd seen on the bed moments ago. My mind spun for a second, piecing together Hartwell's words, the damp beard, the tossed tunics–
But I forced the thought away. Hartwell owned a dozen identical tunics like that. This was nothing but coincidence. It had to be.
Even so, my body betrayed me. Heat pooled in my stomach, and a slow, shameless erection grew against the fabric of my pants.
Serena must have felt it, because a mischievous smile curved her lips as she whispered, "Looks like someone's excited."
Her breath on my ear sent a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, all my questions and doubts burned away, replaced by the singular hunger clawing at me from inside.
I wanted to fuck my wife.
It had been a week since I felt her warmth, and at least a couple of days since I last came.
Hartwell came in not long after, checked my body, and gave me a quick rundown of my condition. "All you need now is rest," he said. "Try to walk a little every day. You'll be back to normal in a week at most."
"Good," he added with a small nod. "Don't stress yourself. Your progress is remarkable."
He was about to leave when I stopped him. "Can I sleep with my wife tonight?"
Hartwell paused and looked at me strangely, then cleared his throat. "If you mean intercourse, then no. That would put too much strain on your body right now."
"No, not that," I said quickly. "Just… sleep next to her. In the other room."
Hartwell glanced at Serena. She hesitated, then shook her head. "You can't," she said softly.
"Why not?"
"I enchanted this bed," she admitted. "It has healing properties now."
I frowned. "Enchanted? How?"
"I… bought a mana crystal," she said, looking away. "With the money I got from the innkeep."
A strange mix of irritation and relief washed over me. I couldn't hold Serena tonight, but knowing she'd spent that money on me made my chest feel a little lighter.
"Alright," I sighed, sinking back into the bed.
***
A week had passed since I walked for the first since the incident. We had left the doctor's house a few minutes back and were currently sitting in the tavern of the village near Hartwell's house.
It was the same tavern where the people who ambushed us had come.
We were not here for investigating, but simply for some food before we leave.
"So, our next stop is Horiul." Serena said.
"I wonder how the innkeep will react spotting us again." I said.
Serena took the final bite of the pie as she said, "Give me the pouch, I'll pay at the counter."
"I don't have the pouch." I said.
"Well, neither do I." She said, her voice a little higher.
"What do we do now?" I asked, I felt very nervous.
Serena took a deep breath, "We probably forgot it back at Hartwell's house. You sit here, I'll get it back."
"Alright." I said, I was still recovering, so it only made sense for her to go.
***
The horse's hooves beat against the dirt road, matching the pounding in my chest.
Why was I doing this?
I had tried to tell myself it was because of my ability, that my powers demanded this of me. But I knew better. Deep down, this wasn't some side effect, it was me.
My mind wandered back to that day, when Nash had asked me to help the innkeep. My heart had raced then too, but I'd buried that reaction under guilt.
I kept telling myself I was doing it for Nash. But that was a lie.
When Thornton had humiliated me, when I told him I was his plaything, when he used my fluids like sauce, when I kissed him, when I felt the size of his humongous member against me…
I had already crossed the line.
I wanted him. Craved him. Thornton wasn't just a man to me that day, he was a temptation I willingly let consume me.
When he took me upstairs, I should have felt shame, should have thought of Nash and begged for forgiveness. But instead, I only burned hotter. Seeing Nash had made it worse, like my body wanted to betray him.
And then that bitch came. Stopped me before I could go through with it. Something about her had been strange, but I had been grateful in the moment, she saved me from crushing Nash completely.
But the desire didn't vanish. It lingered. It twisted itself around me.
That is when I found myself sitting in a doctor's bed, while my husband was sleeping in the next room.
"I'll sleep on the floor," Hartwell had said that first night.
"No. Please… stay on the bed." I'd smiled at him then, knowing exactly what I was doing.
He hesitantly took up the offer after some time.
I still remember the smell of his tunic that I wore that night. How I had slid closer, lifting it just enough to grind against him. How his hand found my breast in the dark, fingers curling around me like he had been waiting for it.
"So, you're awake," I had whispered.
"How could I sleep when such a beauty lies next to me?" he had whispered back.
Just remembering it sent a shiver through me.
When Nash was still in coma, we even fucked like rabbits right above him. The danger made it hotter.
When Nash finally woke up, when he started walking again, the interruptions were frustrating… but maybe that was part of what made it exciting.
It wasn't that I didn't love Nash. I did–deeply. I adored him. I loved him. I would protect him with my life. But ever since Malek, something inside me had changed. I needed pleasure, I needed power, I needed this.
My thoughts stopped spiraling as Hartwell's house came into view.
I dismounted, knocked once, and stepped inside.
He was at the dining table, the coin pouch sitting neatly in front of him.
"Did you forget this on purpose?" Hartwell asked with a knowing smile.
"Maybe…" I breathed, stepping closer.
We looked into each other's eyes. No love. Only lust.
And then our lips collided. Hard.
***
Author's Note: A little longer chapter as I hadn't posted in a while.
Next chapter, that will be the tenth chapter, will be a big leap towards the Netorase/Cuckold part of this story, and will be very hot. I promise.
Also, if you guys haven't figured it out. Serena's ability grows with sexual pleasure.
As for me, all I can say is that college sucks, and you guys should go see the new Demon Slayer movie, it was an experience to say the least.