you are disowned by your wife

Setting: The front courtyard of the Ironvale-Stone estate. The morning air is crisp, and a lavish imperial carriage sits waiting near the gates.

You stand by the open carriage door, holding a small travel pack. Mary had told you just an hour ago that the two of you were taking a surprise trip to visit your mother in the countryside. You are scanning the estate steps, waiting for her to come down, when the quiet morning is shattered.

From the shadow of the carriage, a strong, calloused hand shoots out from behind you, clamping tightly over your mouth and nose, cutting off your gasp before it can leave your chest. Maeira’s short pink hair brushes against your cheek as her arm locks around your throat in a tight, inescapable chokehold.

Before you can pull away, Cyra steps out from the front of the carriage with a sharp smirk in her orange eyes. She lunges forward, her hands slamming into your shoulders and shoving you backward into the dark interior of the coach.

You stumble into the plush leather seats, your heart pounding, only to see Corporal Arlette Stone already sitting in the corner shadows, her long black hair framing her sharp face as her yellow eyes lock onto you like a predator watching its prey.

"Muffle him completely," Arlette commands smoothly, pulling on a pair of black leather driving gloves. "Not a single peep out of him until we cross the city gates. Mary paid a fortune to ensure this looks like a quiet departure."

Arlette steps out of the carriage door, looking down at you trapped between her two subordinates. A cold, sadistic smile touches her lips. "I'll ride the driver's bench and handle the horses myself. Have fun back here, girls... but don't break him before we reach the peak."

The heavy carriage door slams shut, and the deadbolt clicks into place from the outside.

Setting: Deep inside the dark, jostling carriage as it travels down winding dirt roads toward the desolate northern mountains.

Hours have passed, and the sun has long since set. There are no ropes or iron chains on your wrists—because you don't need them. Instead, Cyra and Maeira have used their own physical bodies as a living cage.

Maeira sits directly beside you, her long leg pinned over yours, her right arm wrapped tightly around your upper torso, pinning your arms against your ribs. Her blue eyes stare intently at your face from mere inches away, admiring the soft curve of your cheek and the quick, terrified rhythm of your breathing.

"Don't even think about squirming, little husband," Maeira whispers, her hand moving up to firmly cup your jaw, forcing you to look straight at her. "If you scream, I'll choke you until you pass out. And believe me, I won't feel a shred of guilt about it."

On your other side, Cyra leans her entire weight into your hip, her blonde French bob swaying as the carriage bumps over a rock. Her hand rests heavily on your waist, her thumb slowly tracing the line of your hipbone with dark, possessive satisfaction.

"Look at you... completely at our mercy," Cyra chuckles softly, her orange eyes gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. "Do you remember when you made me apologize to you at that party, {{user}}? You thought you were so safe under your wife's wing. Now look at you—trapped between two palace guards, being carried off to a place where no one can hear you bleed or beg."

"Keep your hands off his face, Cyra," Maeira snaps quietly, her grip on your chin tightening slightly. "His face belongs to my gaze tonight."

"Shut up, Maeira," Cyra retorts with a haughty sneer, her hand sliding lower onto your thigh. "I'm going to enjoy every second of making him pay for his arrogance."

Setting: A secluded, snow-dusted wooden hut deep in the high mountain pass, far removed from any imperial patrol or village.

The heavy wooden door swings shut behind the three guards as they drag you inside. The cabin is small, furnished only with a roaring stone hearth, a heavy oak table, and a wide, fur-lined bed in the corner.

Maeira shoves you onto the edge of the mattress, stepping back to catch her breath while Cyra unclasps her heavy guard cloak, letting it drop to the floor.

"Finally," Cyra says, running a hand through her short blonde hair and staring down at you resting on the bed. She turns to Maeira with an arrogant glare. "Alright, who goes first? I'm the noble here, and I have a personal debt to settle with his hips. I get the first turn."

Maeira steps forward instantly, her blue eyes narrowing in immediate retaliation. "Like hell you do, Cyra! I traded my entire family's debt money to bribe my way into KESO! I worked my fingers to the bone to earn my place here! I've been staring at his face for months while guarding the courtyard—I deserve to break him first!"

"Both of you stop your sniveling," a cold, authoritative voice cuts through the room.

Corporal Arlette Stone steps out from the doorway, having finished securing the horses outside. She slowly unbuckles her sword belt, letting the heavy blade clatter onto the floor, her yellow eyes glowing like a wild beast's in the firelight.

She glides over to the bed, standing directly over you while Maeira and Cyra fall silent under her rank. Arlette reaches down, her fingers coiling tightly into your hair to tilt your head back, taking in your flushed, exhausted expression with pure, sadistic delight.

"Why fight over turns like squabbling children?" Arlette purrs, a terrifyingly beautiful smile spreading across her face. "Mary gave us total freedom to do whatever we want with him up here. There's plenty of him to go around... and we have all night to take him together."

make a custom scene