Chapter 7 – The Throne
It was a rainy Friday night. The soft patter of drops against the window mixed with the low hum of the ceiling fan. Meera was in bed, propped up against the headboard in one of her loose tank tops, scrolling through her phone.
Every now and then she giggled softly, her thumbs tapping replies.
Raj stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry.
Without looking up, she patted the bed beside her. “Lie down, babe.”
In that moment, Raj thought about the cuckold ritual they had discussed and how it would change their relationship.
He settled onto his back, and before he could ask why, she swung a leg over him, straddling his chest. The weight of her body settled on him, the faint warmth of her thighs brushing his ribs.
Then she shifted higher, the curve of her ass now hovering just over his face.
“Go on,” she murmured without looking away from her phone.
Raj’s hands came up to caress her hips as he leaned in, pressing soft kisses to each cheek, his tongue tracing lazy, reverent circles over her skin. Her scent filled him, heady and addictive.
As he worshipped her, she started talking casually — as if this was just the most normal thing in the world.
“This afternoon at the gym,” she said, swiping on her phone, “one of the trainers offered to spot me during squats. He stood so close I could feel his breath on my neck.”
Raj groaned softly into her skin. “And… you didn’t mind?”
She chuckled. “If I minded, I would’ve moved away.”
He licked a little lower, skimming toward the heat between her cheeks. The thought of tasting her there, then moving forward to her center, was irresistible.
But as soon as his lips brushed the edge of her folds, she reached back and pressed a firm hand to his forehead, stopping him.
“Mmh-mm,” she said, still looking at her phone. “Just don’t start what you can’t end.”
The words hit like a spark — not harsh, but laced with a knowing cruelty that made his pulse jump. He leaned back slightly, a mix of frustration and thrill twisting in his chest.
She rolled her hips slightly, guiding his mouth back to where she wanted it — over the curve of her ass, tongue circling her hole in slow, obedient motions.
“You’re getting better at this,” she murmured after a while, finally setting her phone aside. “Keep it up and maybe… one day… I’ll let you watch another man enjoy me this much.”
Raj’s stomach knotted with heat. He wanted to ask more, but she reached down, ran her fingers through his hair, and simply said,
“That’s enough for tonight.”
She climbed off him, dropped a kiss on his lips — the taste of her still lingering on his tongue — and turned off the light.
Raj lay there in the dark, every nerve alive, the image of her with another man replaying in his mind… feeling less like a fantasy and more like something that was going to happen.
Chapter 8 – The Ritual
It started as one of those quiet, wine-filled evenings where conversations drifted into more daring territory.
Raj and Meera lay together on the sofa, her head resting in his lap, fingers idly playing with the hem of his shirt.
“Raj,” she murmured, eyes half-lidded, “what if one night… I went out to enjoy myself while you stayed home?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Enjoy yourself… how?”
She smiled softly. “Not like that. Nothing physical without your say-so. Just… being out there. Feeling the attention. Seeing how it makes me feel… and how it makes you feel, knowing I’m out.”
He thought for a moment. “And you wouldn’t tell me where you’re going?”
“No,” she said, almost whispering. “You’d know I’m safe, you’d know nothing happens without you saying yes… but you wouldn’t know where I am or what I’m doing. That part would be yours to imagine.”
Raj felt a pulse of heat at the idea. The uncertainty… mixed with complete trust… it stirred something in him.
“Okay,” he said finally. “We’ll try it.”
—
The following Friday, she appeared in the bedroom in a fitted black dress that hugged her hips and left her back bare.
She adjusted an earring in the mirror, then turned to him with that slow, knowing smile.
“Well? You know what to do.”
He knelt behind her without hesitation, placing a reverent kiss on each cheek through the fabric, then leaning in to breathe her in. She rested a hand on the back of his head, holding him there for a second longer.
“That’s your good luck kiss,” she said warmly, running her fingers through his hair before slipping on her heels.
—
When the door clicked shut behind her, the house felt impossibly still.
Raj settled on the couch, but the image of her walking into a dimly lit bar, her hips swaying, kept playing in his mind.
And then… the thought returned.
Don’t start what you can’t end.
He rolled the words over in his head. Did she mean he couldn’t handle finishing what my fantasy might demand? Or… that she knew deep down she could never be fully satisfied by him alone?
He hated the thought… and yet, it made his chest feel tight in that way that wasn’t just fear. It was the same heat that had been growing in him since that night on the dance floor — when he noticed other wives pressed against other men, their husbands nearby, smiling as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The thought turned sharper: What if she found someone who could give her something I couldn’t… and I watched?
His cock stirred. The mix of pride, jealousy, and surrender was dizzying.
—
An hour later, his phone buzzed.
Thinking of you. Be a good boy.
It reassured him — she was still his Meera — but the lack of detail was deliberate, he knew. She was letting his imagination run wild.
—
It was past midnight when the key turned in the lock. She stepped inside, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with the afterglow of a night well-spent. She kicked off her heels and walked to the bedroom without a word.
Raj followed, and when she unzipped her dress, she let it slide down her body in one slow, deliberate motion.
Bare, perfect, and still faintly warm from the night air, she stepped past him — her ass brushing against his cheek.
“One day…” she murmured, voice low and promising, “…maybe I’ll let you know what it’s like to see me out there for real.”
Then she slipped into bed, leaving him standing in the half-dark, heart racing, knowing the door was now open — and wondering how soon they’d step through it.
Chapter 8 – The Ritual (continued)
She didn’t go straight to bed.
Instead, Meera stood at the edge of the mattress, still naked, looking down at him with a heat in her eyes that made his pulse hammer.
“Lie back,” she whispered.
Raj obeyed instantly. She climbed onto him, straddling his hips, her skin warm and scented faintly of perfume and something else he couldn’t name.
The first kiss was deep, needy — her tongue tasting of wine and danger.
It was different tonight.
Her movements were faster, more urgent, as if whatever she’d done, wherever she’d been, had lit a fuse inside her. She rode him with a rhythm that made his back arch, her hands gripping his chest.
Between gasps, she murmured, “We went to a rooftop place… music, drinks… dancing…” She leaned down, brushing her lips against his ear. “…someone bought me a cocktail, asked me to dance. I didn’t say yes.”
She didn’t say no, either.
Raj’s hands clutched her hips, but he didn’t push for more details — the space between what she told him and what she left unsaid was intoxicating.
She shifted, leaning forward so her breasts pressed to his chest, and began to roll her hips in slow, grinding circles.
Her breath was hot against his ear. “I could feel eyes on me all night…”
Raj groaned, the thought of her being watched — admired — pushing him closer to the edge.
Her pace quickened, her body trembling, and he matched her urgency, both of them caught in something wild and unrestrained.
When they finally came together, it was with a force that left them breathless, sweaty, and stunned. She collapsed against him, her hair damp against his neck, both their hearts thudding in sync.
For a long moment, they just lay there, holding each other.
Neither said it out loud… but both knew.
The way she’d come back to him glowing, the way the mystery of her night had fueled them… cuckoldry wasn’t just an idea anymore.
It could be… incredible.
