Investing in My Crippled Wife: My Duchess Makes me Overpowered

”Come for me,” she breathed. ”Let me see it.”

He came with a strangled groan, cock pulsing in her hand. Thick ropes of cum spurted across his stomach, his chest. Isolde stroked him through it, milking every drop until he was spent and twitching.

She brought her hand to her mouth, licking his cum from her fingers with deliberate slowness. Emeric watched, transfixed, his penis already twitching with renewed interest.

”We’re not done,” she said, voice husky. ”Not even close.”

The night stretched on in rounds of pleasure. Isolde took him again, this time on her back with her legs spread wide. Emeric knelt between her thighs, cock sliding into her soaked pussy with one smooth thrust. She gripped his shoulders, nails digging in.

”Harder,” she ordered. ”I want to feel you inside.”

He fucked her with deep, powerful strokes. The bed creaked beneath them. Isolde’s breasts bounced with each thrust. She reached between them, fingers circling her clit, chasing another orgasm.

When she came, it was with a sharp cry, pussy clamping down on his cock. Emeric followed moments later, burying himself deep as he filled her with hot cum. They stayed locked together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked skin pressed close.

Later, she had him on his knees beside the bed. She sat on the edge, legs dangling uselessly, and guided his mouth to her pussy. He licked her with long, flat strokes of his tongue, tasting their mingled cum. Isolde’s fingers tangled in his hair, holding him in place.

”Suck my clit,” she demanded. ”Make me come on your tongue.”

He obeyed, lips closing around the sensitive bud. He sucked gently, then harder, tongue flicking. Isolde’s hips rocked against his face as much as she could manage. Her thighs trembled. She came with a broken moan, flooding his mouth.

Emeric stood, hard and aching again. Isolde turned onto her stomach, ass raised. He entered her from behind, hands gripping her hips. The angle let him go deeper than before. He fucked her with long, rolling thrusts, watching his cock disappear into her pussy over and over.

Isolde reached back, fingers finding her clit. She rubbed in time with his thrusts. ”Don’t stop,” she gasped. ”I’m close again.”

They came together this time—her pussy pulsing around him, his penis throbbing as he pumped another load deep inside her. Cum leaked out around his shaft, dripping down her thighs.

Dawn found them still tangled together, exhausted but sated. The first pale light crept through the shutters as Emeric stirred. Isolde slept beside him, her breathing deep and even.

He watched her for a moment—the curve of her breast rising and falling, the way her dark hair fanned across the pillow. His cock stirred despite the long night. Morning light painted her skin gold.

Carefully, he shifted, moving between her legs. She woke as he parted her thighs, eyes fluttering open.

”Emeric?” Her voice was sleep-rough.

”Shh,” he murmured. ”Let me.”

He lowered his mouth to her pussy. She was still slick from the night before, cum dried on her thighs. He licked her clean, tongue delving between her folds. Isolde moaned, fingers threading through his hair.

He took his time, savoring the taste of her, the way her clit swelled under his tongue. When she was writhing, he rose over her, hard and ready.

”I want you,” he said, voice low. ”All of you.”

Isolde spread her legs wider in invitation. Emeric positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. He pushed in slowly, watching her face as he filled her. Her pussy was hot, tight, welcoming.

He set a steady rhythm—deep, controlled thrusts that dragged against her inner walls. Isolde’s hands gripped his shoulders. Her head tilted back, exposing the line of her throat.

”Harder,” she whispered.

Emeric shook his head. ”My turn to control.”

He slowed even more, each thrust deliberate. He angled his hips, searching for that spot inside her that made her gasp. When he found it, he focused there, grinding against it with each stroke.

Isolde’s breath came faster. Her nails dug into his skin. ”Emeric—please—”

He reached between them, thumb finding her clit. He rubbed in tight circles, matching the pace of his thrusts. Isolde’s thighs trembled. Her pussy fluttered around his cock.

”Come for me,” he commanded softly.

She shattered with a cry, pussy clenching rhythmically. Wetness flooded around his cock. Emeric fucked her through it, maintaining that same steady pace until she was limp and panting beneath him.

Only then did he let himself go faster. His hips snapped forward, driving deep. The wet sounds of their fucking filled the room. Isolde’s breasts bounced with each thrust. She reached up, cupping them, pinching her own nipples.

Emeric felt his orgasm building—the tightening in his balls, the heat coiling at the base of his spine. He chased it, thrusts growing erratic.

”Isolde,” he groaned. ”Fuck—”

He came hard, him pulsing as he filled her with hot cum. Isolde moaned at the sensation, her pussy fluttering around him. They stayed locked together, breathing hard, sweat cooling on their skin.

Emeric didn’t pull out. He stayed buried inside her, softening slowly. Isolde’s fingers traced patterns on his back.

”Good morning,” she murmured, a smile in her voice.

He kissed her—slow, deep, tasting her. ”Good morning.”

Outside, the sun rose over the modest home of shunned nobles, but inside their bedchamber, the night’s heat lingered in every touch, every shared breath, every whispered command and surrender.

Morning light filtered through the narrow kitchen window, catching on the worn wooden table where Isolde sat with her hands pressed to her stomach.

The modest home smelled of last night’s fire and the faint musk of their bodies. She shifted on the bench, face paling, then suddenly lurched forward.

”Emeric—bucket—”

He snatched the tin pail from beneath the sink and held it steady as she heaved. Nothing came up but bile; they had eaten little since the trials. When the spasm passed she slumped back, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist.