Tonight， Your Wife Will Be Mine. 1

Chapter 1 – 0. Northern Twilight (1)

Lemoang Fortress, it was a snowy night.

At this time of year, it was always the north that suffered from severe cold, but today felt a little different. No matter how much the curtains and carpets were used in the corridor, it was always a little chilly, but the Marquis Marquis’s mood after walking in such a place was somehow sweltering, as if suffering from a slight fever.

In the residential area of ​​the castle, on the outskirts of the corridor, there was a room for guests to stay. It was a space for a man who was still an outsider. So, a soft beam of light streamed through the slightly open door, and a noble song played in the background on the record player placed inside.

Smart.

At first there were a couple of knocks. It was a very small voice, probably because of his very cautious attitude. It seemed to be buried in that calm but ecstatic melody. Thus, the landlady of the Marquis, the territory of northern Gaul, knocked on the door again.

It was then that the tightly locked door opened. The doorknob engraved with an expensive magic circle welcomed the visitor according to the will of the owner I recognized. Even though, unfortunately, she was the owner of this land and the fortress that towered over it.

It was a truly paradoxical relationship.

Such was the sight of a wife who should have been served by a vassal who could be said to be inferior. Ironically, it meant that the power structure to which they belonged was somewhat different from what was seen externally, and made the observer to imagine many things.

Will Oriane Lemoang’s chastity still be strong?

Even so, the first thing imprinted on those intelligent eyes was the chandelier. The lighting, which was made after cutting crystals, emitted only soft light, leaving behind the splendor.

Of course, if the room was dark, it wasn’t necessarily so. Next, I was able to clearly see my elegant figure reflected in the large full-length mirror that came into my field of vision.

Hair done by a lady-in-waiting who was skilled with her hands her for an hour. A face decorated with lotion that I cherished in case my skin looked ugly. A drop-shaped jewel earring tumbled in her ear and she cried. At the nape of her neck, a necklace woven with rare eye diamonds was revealed.

But, strangely enough, it wasn’t the decorations that really mattered.

It was a dress like a small rebellion. The true value was that outfit that was just so flashy that it wasn’t overbearing. Then there was the tight corset and garter belt under the dress. It was her will and mentality of her that she would not lose her beautiful beauty even at the cost of her discomfort.

In the end, they were her body her itself, created by clinging to her body her.

Even if it wasn’t, it was a voluptuous body and an appearance that boasted ecstatic dazzle.

A deep cleavage even though it just plainly bares the bottom of her collarbone her. Her breasts her, which looked so beautiful, were enough to induce lust. Needless to say, the waist her was narrow without needing to be tightened, and the hips that decorated the end of such a curve was wide open enough to deserve the reputation of an easy delivery type.

“Are you here?”

Oriane, who averted her gaze with her flushed face her, only nodded her head as she lightly touched her her. It was because I didn’t have the confidence to face the man’s eyes that were burning hot even in the static atmosphere.

“… Madame Lemoyn.”

However, the man did not criticize even that, as if it was a happy seasoning. However, he just strode forward as if he was showing off his body that had been heated and pounded as a knight who had never been burned. Calluses were in places, rough and rough, but with soft hands, he held the two shoulders of the landlady of Marquis Baek.

Shudder, shudder again.

Oriane Lemoang trembled slightly. She, who was as tall and slim as a male knight, was restrained as if she were being held captive by a man of the same height as me. It is true that a beautiful aristocratic wife could not beat the swordsman’s brute strength, who is called Manbubudang.

“Sir Dior…”

The soft glow of the chandelier illuminated the scarred man’s face. His name was Romuald, and his family was Dior, a prominent family in the central political world of Gaul. Nevertheless, this knight, who could not obtain a title due to his birthright his, was unmatched in the sword, so he could become a vassal of the border Lemoang, which requires a lot of force today.

“You should call me Rom.”

Gallic social customs are strict. Even if you have an outside bloodline without a title, once you are born into a noble family, you should never shorten your name. However, Romuald Dior did not like the name given to me, preferring to be called his nickname instead.

“…”

Rom Dior must do whatever he wishes. The rules of Oriane Lemoang originated from that. This knight, whom everyone covets and is wary of, was here refusing any fief or title, only because he pledged allegiance with the body of a woman as collateral.

“Wife.”

The price of reaping a beast that cannot be tamed is becoming tamed.

“Don’t avert your gaze. Please look straight at me. Weave my name with your red tongue and call it out in praise. Please look at me with eyes that have never been shown even to Gerard, Marquis de Lemoant, who has kept so much integrity.”

“He-his name his is…”

Oriane expressed disapproval of her husband’s name. As for Gérard Le Moin, the prostitute of the north, he was as heroic and likable as his mighty spirit. He was one of the four pillars that supported Gaul until he was cornered and assassinated after being framed by political enemies.

In retrospect, he was not a good husband.

Every day, he touched the smooth servants and made them conceive. He was a patriarchal figure who lived proud of his own good taste. The number of illegitimate children who appeared posthumously could not be counted with both hands, and child support payments tied through the trial were still leading to one of the biggest expenses of the Lemoang estate.

However, despite such footprints, Orianne Lemoang did not resent him.

Although love may be a lie, he was a strong man who brought peace to the frozen land of the north. Even Mrs. Amman would not forgive me for challenging her authority her, but at least she did not despise me or despise me like other sluts.

A life that draws a line in each person’s place and is irrelevant.

You can’t call it a couple. But you can call it a companion. The fidelity of Lemoang’s wife, Oriane, was her loyalty toward such a companion. It was a memorial for the man who had accepted him as his partner her, who had no choice but to die or, worse, be thrown out.

“No, Madame Lemoyn.”

Rather than the title of husband, it would be more appropriate to describe the party or guide who pioneered the path to this frozen land together.

“These are the rules.”

The fidelity to such a margrave will end today. At last, the wife will fulfill the promise that she would be embarrassing to God, just like the oath that she staked her faith on her.

“Rule…”

Oriane chewed on Rome’s words quietly and slowly closed her eyes. He finally lifted his heavy eyelids and looked at the knight with long eyelashes and bright pupils.

Turn your head like that.

I stared at Jigsy ROM.

Not long after she had finished her bath, her slightly damp hair her was shiny. She was a tall handsome man, while her face gave a rugged impression with her scars that ran from her forehead to her chin. She was bewitched by her gown, her prominent shoulders and her figure falling into an inverted triangle below her long collarbone.

“… Rom.”

Finally she met her eyes her with him and Oriane whispered. She grabbed my shoulder tightly and recited it as if confessing her affection to a man she had never let go of.

That rule, that oath, that pact.

“I’m here to keep my promise to you.”

The benevolent and always calm Marquis Marquis’s voice trembled. It was both fear and hesitation. She is also a proof that a woman of norms who does not know deviations hesitates in front of a newly approaching reality.

“You are straight.”

Rom gave a short smile. She stared blatantly at the breasts of her wife her, Oriane, who had come into her grasp her with the sharp gaze of a beast immediately before her prey her. She otherwise revealed her desires her without smacking her lips or flirting with lewdness.

Even this cold frozen land, the Margrave Fortress on the northern border of Gaul, could not calm the burning lust.

“Okay. Some have longed for you like that. There was a time when I thought just looking was enough.”

“…”

“But he realized at the end of my life that it was a cowardly defense mechanism. So he pledged himself to be honest if given another chance.”

Rom removed her hand her from Oriane’s shoulder her. I moved naturally to the side of the woman who was standing still waiting for my action and wrapped her waist her. Unlike before, with a rather stern attitude, this lofty and elegant lady hinted that from now on, she would become her own woman her.

“Mrs. Lemoyn.”

Before I knew it, the knight’s hand was groping the body of the wife I was supposed to serve.

“I will not run away any longer.”

Her coveted breasts were savagely clutched over her clothes, and the time of recalling her socialite encounters went further, suggesting that this moment ended in wealth.

“From my own desires.”

Without any resistance, she urged Oriane, who could only feel her gentle touch her. Like herself, she also demanded that she be honest and acknowledge her own desires of her.

“So, tell us our rules.”

“You have bad taste…”

“When you talk about pleasure, that’s how you feel.”

It won’t be easy. To throw away everything that encompasses me and just become a woman.

“I, Orianne Lemoang, deputy governor of northern Gaul…”

To become a bitch who accepts a lowly and lewd job for only one person from a noble and refined nobleman who is the idol of everyone.

“I am loyal to my vassal, Romuald Dior, by giving my body as a fief.”

Become the master during the day and the female at night.

“I will do whatever Rom wants, and I will serve you as a female of the night.”

It starts with being naked. Next, learn the erroneous and obscene words of the dead. After that, I encounter the pleasure that will not be erased and engraved deep in my body. She even puts down her husband her, whom she respected as her companion her, and learns how to please the man in front of her.

The saliva and semen of his vassal are willingly stored and displayed, giving a sense of conquest. It gives a sense of satisfaction by revealing my submissiveness cultivated deep in my bones in a coy manner. Moaning that can’t overcome the pleasure gives satisfaction, and even when we are silently in peace, we become erotic by thinking about the night and sleeping.

“Soon…”

Enough to make your mouth drool with your upper or lower mouth.

“Okay.”

Ultimately, you are born again.

“Tonight, your wife will be mine.”

The night of Madame Lemoyn, the Marquis, is exclusively for the knight Dior.