"You're so much better than our husbands," gasped the first woman, her nails scraping down his back.
"Ahh—ahhh—" The second arched beneath him, her thighs tightening around his hips as he drove into her.
He paused, looking between them. "Really... what if they heard you now?"
The third woman laughed, low and wicked, her lips against his ear. "Let them hear."
He couldn't help but grab the plentiful mounds that were shaking, grasping them roughly. "You naughty women."
His hands explored their bodies, one woman moaned as he squeezed her breast, another gasped when his fingers trailed lower. The two who weren't being touched leaned in, lips crashing together in a heated kiss, their tongues tangling as they watched him work.
"Ahh—fuck—" one whimpered, her back arching off the bed.
The third smirked, nipping at his ear. "Keep going… let them hear everything."
"Nnh—ah! Yes—right there!" The first woman's cries pitched higher as he thrust deeper, her breasts bouncing with each snap of his hips.
The second woman bit her lip, watching them before letting out a sharp gasp as his free hand slipped between her thighs. "Oh—oh fuck—!" Her back arched off the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets.
The third woman moaned into the other's mouth, their kiss breaking only to pant. "Harder—please—"
He groaned, gripping the first woman's waist as skin slapped against skin. "You sound so fucking good—"
"Ah! Ah! AH!"Her voice cracked as she came, nails raking down his arms. The second woman shuddered beneath his fingers, whimpering as she followed.
The third woman laughed breathlessly, pulling him down for a messy kiss. "Now me."
The third woman's legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper as he drove into her. Skin slapped loudly, her moans sharp and desperate in the heat of the room. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving faint red trails.
"Ngh—harder—please, harder—" she begged, her voice trembling.
He obliged, his thrusts growing rougher, more frantic. Her head fell back, a broken cry escaping her lips just as the bedroom door burst open.
Three men stood in the doorway, each radiating a cold, crackling energy. The air grew heavy, charged with magic.
"Enough," the tallest man said, his voice low and final.
Before the man on the bed could react, an invisible force seized him, yanking him off the woman and hurling him against the far wall. He slammed into it with a sickening thud, pinned in place by shimmering bands of magical energy.
The women scrambled to cover themselves, their faces pale with fear.
"Wait—!" the first woman cried, tears already streaking her cheeks.
The second husband, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his jaw, stepped forward, his eyes glowing faintly with restrained power. "Since you love sticking your cock everywhere," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "let's see if fire is fuckable."
A sphere of white-hot flame bloomed in his palm.
The man against the wall struggled, but the magic held him fast. His eyes widened, not just in fear, but in disbelief. 'Burn it?' His mind raced, a cold panic settling in his gut. 'They can't—they wouldn't—'
"No! Please, don't!" The third woman sobbed, crawling toward the edge of the bed. "I love his cock—you can't destroy it!"
The second woman nodded frantically, her voice trembling. "It's the best in town!"
The third husband, lean, sharp-featured, with cold eyes, tilted his head. "The best in town?" he repeated, a cruel smile touching his lips. "How many have you tried to know?"
The women fell silent, their sobs catching in their throats.
The first husband stepped forward, the magical flames in his hand growing brighter. "Let's find out," he said, "if your 'little not-so-little brother' can take the heat."
The man on the wall could only watch, breath trapped in his chest, as the fire drew closer.
"Ahh ple—
The man's plea was cut off as a searing heat erupted in his groin, his balls burning, the flesh twisting, changing, until they were two glowing orbs of fire between his legs.
"WAIT—WAIT WAIT WAIT!" His voice cracked, panic clawing up his throat. "PLEASE STOP! I'LL STOP SLEEPING WITH YOUR WIVES—I SWEAR! I'LL EVEN STOP FUCKING YOUR MOTHERS! YOUR SISTERS—!"
The room went dead silent.
The three husbands froze. The magic flickered. Even the women's sobs cut off mid-breath.
Then—slowly—all three men turned to look at each other.
"...Mothers?" the first husband said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"...Sisters?" the second repeated, his fingers twitching.
The third husband's eyes burned brighter than the flames in his hands.
The magic surged.
The invisible bands around the man tightened like a vice, his scream was cut off as the fire in his balls flared, the heat crawling up his shaft.
"You what?" all three men growled at once.
The women gasped, scrambling back as the husbands' fury ignited the very air around them.
The man on the wall could only whimper as his fate, his very existence, was sealed.
"Oh, you fucking wish it was just fire now," the tallest husband snarled.
And then, the real punishment began.
♡♡♡
The three men stood over the remains, their chests rising and falling with deep, satisfied breaths.
The tallest man nudged the ashes with his boot, scattering them across the floor. A slow grin spread across his face.
The butcher was the first to notice them when they stepped outside. He paused in sharpening his knife, then gave a sharp, approving nod before going back to his work, but this time, he was whistling. The blacksmith, usually grim and silent, actually laughed as he hammered, the sound ringing through the square.
The old priest, who had spent years scowling at the town's sins, leaned against the church door with a smirk, his fingers tapping against his thigh like he was listening to music.
Everywhere they looked, men were smiling.
The farmer, who had once walked with his head down, now stood straight, his hands on his hips as he surveyed his land with a grin.
The miller, who had barely spoken in months, clapped another man on the back and roared with laughter. Even the town drunk, who had spent years muttering into his cups, was grinning as he poured himself another drink, this time, not to forget, but to celebrate.
They had all known. They had all suffered. And now, finally, it was over.
But the women…
The women were in ruins.
The carpenter's wife rocked back and forth in her chair, her fingers clutching at her skirts. The baker's widow sat motionless by the window, her eyes red and swollen. The seamstress had locked herself in her shop.
And then there was the girl.
She was barely twenty, the daughter of the innkeeper. She had been found in the woods behind the tavern, her scarf knotted around a thick branch, her feet kicking as she struggled for air. Her brother had cut her down just in time. She had fought him, screaming, clawing at his arms.
"You don't understand!" she had sobbed. "You don't know what you've taken from us!"
Now, she sat in the corner of the inn's kitchen, her knees drawn to her chest. Her brother stood guard, his expression grim. She wasn't trying to run again. She just stared at the wall, her fingers tracing slow circles on the floor.
The men were happy.
The women were broken.
And the town would never be the same.