Your wife, Sakura, decides you deserve punishment.
Mistakes are what make us human, but you never imagined you’d make one like this.
“Love is pain,” she says, in a voice that’s neither threatening nor mournful, but for the last five years of being together, she’d never sounded more honest.
Sakura’s soft, dainty hand traces the line of your jaw one last time before she pushes you down onto the velvet chair in the corner of the cold hotel room. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway deeply ingrained in your memories, but now only the latter half is going to be true.
“Gosh, your husband’s so obedient,” Asa purrs as her teeth catches her bottom lip for just a second. “Couple goals, honestly.”
Sakura smiles—almost proudly, which confuses you to no end because you’d never seen her behave like this. It almost feels like betrayal, to believe that you knew someone inside-out, to swear an oath to be there in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, only to have them show you their true colors merely three days into a honeymoon.
But maybe you’re no better. Maybe that sixth shot of tequila at the bar in Tokyo wasn’t worth this revelation. Maybe that joke of a suggestion you’d told Sakura when the two of you stepped into that club in Roppongi about having a threesome with a younger girl was just projection that you’re too ashamed to confess to.
“Babe, I—”
“Shut your mouth,” Sakura says, simply. Not angrily, not joyfully. She just says it.
And you listen, because your heart is beating so hard that it drowns out your inner thoughts anyways.
“You wanted a young girl, didn’t you?” she continues after a few torturous seconds. “It’ll be fun, you said.”
“I-it was just a joke!”
Her face doesn’t even move. “If it was just a joke, then why did you buy her a drink when I went to the bathroom?”
“I was just being polite—” you stammer, even though a part of you is telling the truth. “I thought you guys were friends now, so I—”
“So you waited for me to leave my friend before sneaking her another shot.”
“I wasn’t sneaking anything, we just took another shot together—”
Asa giggles. “In his defense, I did ask nicely,” she says, doing that lip-bite thing again. “Really nicely.”
“So when a girl asks you nicely to fuck her, would you do that too?” Sakura asks, crossing her legs in front of you.
You don’t want to entertain the sheer absurdity of that question, so your eyes comfort your frustration instead. It still blows your mind that the woman sitting before you is actually your wife. It actually breaks your brain that just last week, you watched her walk down the aisle in that gorgeous white dress that you’d spent months shopping for, arm hooked with her father’s whom you’d spent months begging for blessings to have his daughter for the rest of your life.
“No,” you say, watching the smirk on Asa’s face widen. “Of course not.”
“So do you accept the consequences of your actions?” Sakura asks, tilting her head ever so slightly.
It clashes like water and oil. From your last memory of slipping that ring on her finger in front of your friends and family before sealing it with a kiss that made the earth stop spinning to celebrate your happiness, to the way her perfect little body feels likes its laughing at you in front of your very eyes, like it’s flaunting itself one last time before offering itself to someone else.
“I do,” you say.
For the first time since returning to the hotel room, she smiles. “Good boy.”
Sakura uncrosses her legs and lets her hair down. You sit there hopelessly, watching it fall over her shoulders as she tilts her head in a way that looks so dangerously seductive that it takes almost every last bit of your restraint to stay seated.
“Okay, I can’t wait anymore,” Asa says, pulling her in for a wet, messy kiss.
Your heart freezes. It doesn’t even look real. This isn’t how first kisses are supposed to look. It’s not shy, it’s not reluctant—hell, it’s not even curious. It’s possessive, animalistic, and worst of all, it’s nothing like any kiss you’ve ever shared with her before.
Sakura’s hands cup Asa’s face in a way that almost looks desperate. You’d never even heard her compliment another girl beyond “she’s pretty” and yet here she is before you with her tongue buried in Asa’s mouth like it’s been there a hundred times before and wants to return home.
“You’re a really good kisser,” Asa hums, planting a trail of pecks down the side of her jaw. “And you taste good. I wonder… hmm…”
You watch as she creeps lower, down the sides of her neck, right onto her collarbone. The sweet, loving scent of Sakura’s skin fills your mind, as if it’s your own face planted there. It’s the smell of home; cozy, warm, and comforting—but those feelings are suddenly no longer exclusive to you. Some random college girl whose name you didn’t even know until a couple hours ago is claiming her right before your very eyes, and you’re still unsure whose fault it is.
All you know is that you can’t stop watching.
“God, you smell good too,” she says, running her tongue lower as you watch Sakura willingly pull her dress down, as if unwrapping herself as a gift.
Her breasts spill out, and before they could finish that initial bounce as the fabric snaps, Asa’s mouth latches onto them. Sakura falls over on the bed from the abruptness, and Asa immediately crawls over her like a monster claiming its meal.
It doesn’t stop; it doesn’t even pause for even a second. Not the images of your first kiss with Sakura running rampant like a waterfall of memories fighting back against the pain, nor the sounds of Asa’s lips sucking on your wife’s skin like it’s the lollipop she had at the club when she first approached the two of you to introduce herself, or the moans escaping both of their mouths as Asa’s tiny fingers sneak their way between Sakura’s soft, slender legs that voluntarily spreads themselves apart slowly.
And in that moment, the only thing that hurts more than the confusion of whether or not you ever knew her after all these years is the betrayal.
But not hers. Your own body’s betrayal.
The way your cock visibly hardens, pushing through your slacks as Asa’s fingers splash in and out of the love of your life’s dripping heat while her lips part and her eyes roll like your anguish is payment for her euphoria. The way your breaths grow weaker and harder simultaneously as Asa’s dress is flung across the room just before Sakura’s follows. The way your heart grows heavier while your head feels lighter as the familiar weightlessness of Sakura’s tiny body mounts atop Asa’s face, spreading her love that was once reserved just for you, all across her annoyingly pretty face.
The flashbacks come back again. You see Sakura in that pretty little pink blouse, stepping outside her door the day you picked her up for your first date.
“Coming!” she said excitedly with that adorable guilty little smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t find my lipstick.”
The reminiscence of an apology for being two minutes late is quickly washed away by the way her body unapologetically arches over Asa’s, the way her cries of ecstasy fill the room as she crumbles right before you.
“I’m coming…” Sakura cries, one hand gripping Asa’s hair, the other pressed flat over her stomach as she grinds back and forth in a rhythm that matches the painful thumping in your chest.
Her voice breaks, and so does your heart as you watch her tremble hopelessly, shoulders dropping right before her own body does.
“Get up, I’m not done with you,” Asa growls, spreading your lover’s legs so far apart that it lifts her ass right off the sheets.
“W-wait, I need a second—”
But mercy, as you’ve learned, is a privilege for those who don’t make mistakes.
So from the moment you locked eyes with Asa, mercy was never going to find you.
“It feels so good,” she cries as Asa’s tongue twirls around her clit before lapping at her dripping folds and circling her other hole in a terrifyingly practiced pace. “F-fuck… your tongue feels so good…”
“Does your husband make you come like this?”
“N-no… please… let me come again…”
“Who does this pussy belong to?”
“You! Please… please… I’m yours, my pussy is yours…” she shudders, every word bouncing to the rhythm of the slurps and licks that fill the room.