Anxious

Argon had a peculiar anxiety, a feeling he rarely experienced amidst his usual affairs; Isolde's message was late. Seated behind his desk, he turned his thoughts to the books they had looted from Oakshade. His mind wandered, considering the possibilities. There could be invaluable knowledge hidden within those pages, potentially aiding him in acquiring the coveted medium-grade artefact. A plan for the following day began to form.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft footfalls. Saera, a radiant sight, graced the room with her presence. Her hair, a waterfall of curls cascading down her back, was the colour of midnight. Her slender figure was accentuated by the simple stola she wore, the fabric clinging to her curves and billowing around her legs. As captivating as the summer sky, her eyes gleamed with a light that reflected her youthful exuberance and underlying intelligence.

She curtsied gracefully before him, the motion highlighting her etiquette and sophistication. A smile spread across her face, transforming her from a mere beauty to an enchanting vision. The sight of her caught Argon's gaze, and he made room on his lap for her to sit. With her seated comfortably on his lap, her warmth seeped through his toga, lending him a sense of tranquillity amidst his whirlwind of plans and ambitions.

As Saera nestled into his lap, she looked up at him, her eyes curious. "My lord, what occupies your thoughts?" she inquired, her voice soft.

Argon gave her a faint smile, his hand weaving through her dark curls. "Nothing much, my dear. Just sitting here in contemplation," he admitted. In his pursuit of power and control, he realised he hadn't truly taken the time to know those who shared his life. He'd learned about Lyra's past, but Saera was still a mystery.

"Saera," he began, looking down at her. "I've come to know Lyra, but you... I've never asked about your story. Would you share it with me?"

Saera's gaze dropped, and a hint of melancholy flickered across her features. "Well, my lord... It's a sad tale," she confessed. She began her story in a subdued tone. "I grew up in Blackwood, living a comfortable life. My father was a farmer, we were not rich, but we never struggled for food or shelter. But then... the drought hit."

Her voice wavered slightly, a quiet sadness weaving into her narrative. "A pestilence followed the drought, claiming the lives of many townsfolk. Both my parents fell ill... My mother passed first, and then... then a week later, my father followed." She swallowed hard, her eyes far away. "I sometimes think he died of sadness as much as the disease..."

A sudden silence fell between them as Argon absorbed her words, his eyes studying her. "You were alone then?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

She nodded, a faint smile pulling at her lips. "Yes, my lord. But the peasant revolt... I survived that because I had friends among the boys. Some of them... they'd bring me food, provide protection, in hopes of winning my favour."

Argon listened attentively, his hand pausing mid-stroke in her hair. Her honesty intrigued him, her resilience even more so.

Saera continued her story, her voice barely above a whisper, her words etching a narrative of hardship and perseverance. "When the men left to start the revolt, the village became somewhat safer, but my supply of food began to dwindle," she confessed. Her face softened, eyes taking on a distant, thoughtful look as she reflected on those hard days.

"Then you came," she said, her voice breaking slightly as she gazed at Argon. "And with you, came order." Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the gratitude and adoration she felt for him. Her hand reached up to touch his face, her fingers tracing his roughened jawline.

"Then the word spread that you were seeking women for companionship," she continued, her gaze meeting his. "I saw it as an opportunity, a chance to secure a better future. I won't lie, my lord... That's why I offered myself." Her eyes held his, sincerity shining in them. "But now... Now, it's more than just security. I... I have feelings for you, my lord. I believe I love you."

Emitting a soft chuckle that resonated with icy detachment, Argon looked at Saera seated on his lap, his eyes cold and unsympathetic. "Your story has touched me, Saera," he started, his voice devoid of emotion, "But let's clear something up. I chose you because of your beauty and that tight ass of yours. Nothing more."

He let the words sink in before he continued, his gaze sweeping over her body in a calculated, assessing manner. "Sure, I've grown somewhat fond of you," he conceded, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, "but don't misconstrue that as weakness or emotional attachment. You should always remember, you can be replaced at any given moment." His words echoed ominously in the room, reminding Saera of the harsh realities of her situation.

Argon urged, "I want to see that tight ass of yours that I'm so fond of," Saera promptly rose, her fingers nimbly undoing the fastenings of her stola. The garment fell in a fluid whisper around her feet, baring her body to Argon's rapacious gaze. The lamp's soft glow illuminated her, casting long shadows that caressed her full breasts and accentuated the sinuous curve of her waist, leading to her firm, rounded posterior.

"I know you like me more than you let on," Saera murmured, her voice weaving a spell of intimacy in the otherwise silent room. Her hazel eyes met his, holding an unspoken promise of fealty. "No matter what, I am forever yours."

The words hung heavy in the air, a confession that softened and steeled Argon's features. Rising from his chair, he closed the distance between them in a few powerful strides. His armour discarded with a clatter, he moved closer, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate curve of her spine before asserting a firm grip on her hips. He guided her to the edge of the bed, where she willingly surrendered to his desires, her form bending in anticipation under his touch. The sight of her exposed form, the fullness of her breasts, and the round perfection of her ass was enough to stir the beast within him.

Argon's voice hardened, echoing off the stone walls, "I've clearly been too tender with you, filling your head with thoughts of love." His hand came down on her ass with a harsh smack, causing a shock of pain to ripple through her and a gasp to escape her lips. The sudden sting brought a flash of red to her flawless skin, and her wide eyes met his in a mixture of shock and anticipation.

"Maybe if I fuck you like the whore you are, you'll forget these silly notions," he growled, his gaze predatory. His words were cruel, starkly contrasting with the softness of their earlier conversation, yet an undeniable heat to his tone made her heart pound in her chest. She remained silent, her breath hitching as he loomed over her, his eyes full of dark promises.

With a swift and unceremonious movement, Argon positioned himself at her entrance, his erection pressing against her in a tantalising promise of what would come. He then entered her with a swift, unyielding thrust that elicited a sharp cry from Saera.

Showing no mercy, he relentlessly drove into her, each thrust hard and fast, a wild rhythm that made Saera's cries grow louder and more desperate. His grip on her waist was iron-tight, holding her firmly in place as he took what he wanted from her.

"Yes, fuck me!" she cried out, her voice wavering with raw desire. But Argon didn't slow down or soften his approach; if anything, her words spurred him on, his movements growing even more brutal.

As he plunged into her, he noticed her hand reaching his thigh, grasping it tightly. It was an action that spoke louder than any words could, a clear signal that she was eager for his seed. Yet, Argon couldn't help but ponder how different the two women in his life were. It seemed Saera thrived under his harsh treatment, something he would have to remember for the future.

As Argon continued his merciless assault on Saera, the door suddenly opened to reveal Lyra. "Oh, you started without me," she said, her voice tinged with faux disappointment. Without missing a beat, she discarded her stola on the ground, leaving her voluptuous figure on full display.

Argon, caught up in the rhythm of his movements and Saera's continuous moans, barely glanced her way. He was too focused on the woman beneath him, how her body squirmed and twisted with every thrust.

"Get on the bed and spread your legs," Argon ordered, not missing a beat. His tone was authoritative and demanding, leaving no room for negotiation. Ever compliant, Lyra moved to follow his command, the sight of her naked form adding another layer of arousal to the already heated atmosphere.

With a devilish spark in his eyes, Argon guided Saera's face down towards Lyra's waiting form. "Here's your dinner," he commanded, his voice laced with arousal and power. Saera, lost in her pleasure and eagerness to please Argon, didn't hesitate to comply, even though Lyra was a woman she usually found herself at odds with.

The sight of Saera's submission and the feeling of dominance it evoked in him pushed Argon over the edge. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he reached his climax, his grip on Saera's shoulders tightening as he released inside her. The room was filled with a mix of their sounds, the air heavy with the scent of their lovemaking, marking another night of unchained passion in Blackwood.

Even though he had just reached the peak of pleasure, the sight of Lyra's exquisite figure was like a siren's call, impossible for Argon to resist. Her ample bosom, bathed in the soft glow of the room, seemed to beckon him.

Argon extricated himself from Saera's clinging form, turning his attention towards Lyra. Her eyes met his with a mix of anticipation and challenge. He leaned in to capture her lips in a passionate kiss, his free hand pressing Saera's head further between Lyra's legs.

Lyra's soft gasp and Saera's muffled moan echoed through the room, painting a vivid portrait of sensuality that perfectly reflected the decadent atmosphere. The lingering taste of Lyra on his lips and the sound of the women's shared pleasure only stoked Argon's arousal further, promising yet another round of passionate play in the room.

With an almost feral growl, Argon dismissed Saera with a brusque push and focused on Lyra. Argon flipped her over effortlessly. Her voluptuous ass was on full display, enticingly presented with an arch of her back that seemed to invite him in. Not wasting a moment, he thrust into her, his forceful movements stirring a chorus of sharp gasps from her.

Lyra's fingers dug into the furs, clenching them tightly in response to Argon's relentless rhythm. Saera, now relegated to the sidelines, couldn't help but be drawn in by the erotic scene. With a sultry smirk, she nestled closer, her hands reaching out to spread Lyra's cheeks further, providing Argon with a fuller view of his handiwork.

As Argon pounded into Lyra, Saera's lips found his for a deep kiss, her hands trailing down his chest to tease his nipples. The sensation was intoxicating, but Argon couldn't shake the eerie sensation of being watched.

He dismissed it as the potential voyeuristic inclinations of Brolan, choosing instead to focus on the present pleasures.

Once more, Argon's grip on Lyra's shoulders tightened, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh like a falcon's talons into its prey. His movements were unyielding and powerful, sending Lyra's body lurching forward with each thrust. The intensity caused her to let out a strangled gasp, her body trembling under the relentless onslaught.

All the while, Saera was there, her sultry voice filling the room with words of encouragement and arousal. Her presence, her voice, was like fuel to Argon's fire, driving him to push past his limits and claim Lyra with a possessiveness bordering on the primal.

And with a final, raw grunt of exertion, Argon released, his climax ripping through him with such intensity that, for a moment, everything else ceased to matter. His grip on Lyra's shoulders only tightened, his body rigid as the waves of pleasure washed over him. The room fell silent save for the ragged pants of exertion, the air heavy with the intoxicating scent of their lovemaking.