Extreme Quest 18

Obligatory explanation: A quest is a collaborative story of sorts, where I, the Game Master, write the story that you, the audience, decide on via voting on the prompts that I put through each post. Each post that, on its own, is the result of previous votes.

Alright, NTR won. And by far.

Well, there will be no vore…for now. >=)

But seriously, if any of you can think of an extreme kink that I can put as an alternative to vore, let me know. This is the Extreme Quest, after all.

[X] No. No, no, you don’t want to do vore at ALL. But, perhaps, something equally horrible will do. Perhaps if you suggest her getting fucked by Sigal, telling her that you ARE a cuckquean after all, will do the trick? (NTR, Alama might get impregnated.)

You hated your wife.

This was a reminder, you really hated your wife.

You hated how conceited she was. How sure of herself, and how she just walked into your life whenever she wanted and made an absolute mess of it.

You hated your wife.

…but you didn’t want to see her hurt.

Consumption was a fetish like gold: everyone coveted it, but few got to have it. The church provided healing services for those women who were too necessary to allow to perish from this otherwise permanent kink, or to those who could outright purchase recuperation from the fetish. Death wasn’t the worst thing, and there was something striking about loss.

Something sexy.

But, as much as this was an groin scratcher across all women of all species, there was no denying that it had a price.

And you?

You did not, COULD not, see your wife hurt.

This was not love, you tell yourself. It couldn’t be, because you hated your wife. It didn’t make sense, see?

“H-how about an alternative?” you swallow, the idea that just occurred to you being one you’ve rejected before. But as it's come down to this, you had to follow your priorities, even when you hadn’t known they existed before this moment.

It wasn’t ideal.

But you would rather sacrifice yourself than your wife.

“...you are not trying to get out of this, are you?” Alama’s eyebrow furrows.

“No, no, of course not,” for the first time ever, you saw the need to lie to the person who had tormented you for so long. And you were doing so not for your sake, but for hers, “It’s just, well, I just remembered something.”

“What could that be?” your wife asks, only sounding slightly sarcastic. You’d always rejected the notion that she knew you, because the things Alama held as true were so horrible, but it was hard to deny that you felt seen through.

“Remember when we were in that rickety little inn of that half-bestial town of your peasants?” you ask.

Your wife blinks, “Yes? We were there shortly, but I cannot recall anything that would come up right no-”

Her eyes widened as she, too, recalled that whispered conversation. Her shameless admittance.

Her extreme offer.

“You do?” Any sign that she might be upset vanished in a moment as a wide, knowing smirk manifested on her face, “Hoh, ho-ho-ho-ho, well, well, WELL.”

“So, you’d like to see it too, wouldn’t you?” she asked hotly, “Seeing your spouse sard someone who is not even worthy. To experience that oh so sweet betrayal so. Fucking. CLOSE.”

“Not here!” you say as you look around, your face feeling hot. There was no one around, but any chance at all that anyone might hear was unacceptable.. “We shouldn’t talk about it here.”

“Well, I suppose there is a time and place for everything,” Alama considered, “But since this is my favor being fulfilled…can I take it that I am, in some way, coercing you into doing this?”

“....yes,” you say.

“Heavenly Goddesses!” your wife croons as she becomes improper and starts kissing your face in public, “Oh, my dear wife, I really thought I’d have to do more to make you fall in love with me, but you already do, don’t you?”

“N-no!” you were quick to deny even as you look away.

“You do!” she triumphantly points at you, “You really, really do!”

“Enough!” you growl, “Knight or not, if you don’t stop, I’ll take this public humiliation as fulfillment of my vow.”

“Certainly, my lady wife,” your wife was back to her dignified manners. Her laughing smile, however, remained, “Certainly.”

“But, hah, who will enjoy what is yours?” she asked.

There was only one choice, of course. Men, or women with cocks for that matter, weren’t so plentiful that you could look beyond your sex slave.

But your wife still wanted you to say it.

She wanted you to utter her name.

“Sigal,” you say and your wife has to visibly restrict herself from subjecting your face to another onslaught of kisses.

“You are the Lady,” your wife demurs as if you were in command of all of this.

“But, hah, how shall we do it?”

You stare at her.

“Come again?”

In your mind, sex was a consequence of natural instincts and actions manifesting themselves. Fucking, for lack of a word, was simply what felt the most appropriate at the time.

But, hmm, Alama always liked to plan things out, didn’t she?

“You’ll make me fuck Sigal,’ your wife gave you a blink, “But I rather think that, for an event so special, maybe we could give it some thought, like wife and wife?”

‘What do you have in mind?” you sigh.

“Well,” your wife sing sang:

[] They go to a room and get the job done. You don’t have to see it, just know that it’s taking place. (You’ll only hear the adulterious fucking, and only see the “results” of it.)

[] You take an active role in things. Alama and Sigal will fuck in a room, but you’ll be there to direct things. (You play “porn director”, except more hands on.)

[] You play the showman and have Alama and Sigal fuck in public. Where the whole town can see your wife cheating on you with your sex slave. Might have to pay a minor fee for public indecency, but Alama is sure that she can use her connections to wayve it. (Play exhibitionist porn director/pimp. You’ll have a peanut gallery.)

“Why are all those choices so convoluted?!” you ask, blushing as hard as you’ve ever done.

“You are the one who’s claiming to be interested in this now,” Alama shoots back.

Your mouth clicks shut.