Within the Tavern Walls 13

We come to a crucial part of this short-story series... Please tell me , if I should continue with it? Or do you want me to finish it on this? ---- A mere three days had passed since Mrs. G's last forbidden encounter in her tavern, yet the memory of her unraveling lingered like a constant ache. Each evening, as she said goodbye to her last patrons and watched them leave into the twilight, a familiar mix of dread and anticipation churned inside her. Her tavern changed from a place of honest work into a silent stage for her hidden struggles. On this particular evening, with the sun sinking low and casting long, amber shadows across the worn wooden floors, the heavy door creaked open. A solitary elder entered. This man was short and withered, his frail frame hunched under a dark robe. His white hair and beard framed a face marked by countless years. Yet his eyes shone with a sharp, predatory cunning that didn't match his fragile look, locking onto her with unsettling intent. "Mrs. G," he started, his voice a dry rasp, mixed with a sly, knowing edge as he shuffled into the now empty tavern, "the council has whispered of your slipping resolve. I've come alone to test how much of your virtue remains or how much you're aching to let go, right here in this tavern you hold so dear." Her throat tightened, a bead of sweat forming at the base of her neck as she stood behind the bar counter, clutching a rag with nervous hands. "I've been trying to stay true to my vows," she murmured, her voice weak, showing the storm of fear and unspoken yearning raging inside her, made stronger by the haunting quiet of her own place after hours. The elder's cracked lips curled into a faint, wicked smirk as he inched closer, his gaze holding her like a trapped animal. "We will see. A trial to measure your restraint, Mrs. G. Take off your clothes, and sit upon that table in the corner booth. Let me explore the limits of your fidelity, step by careful step, until we uncover what truly lies beneath your words." His tone carried a heavy promise, as if he enjoyed the slow unraveling he had in mind. Her heart pounded, hesitation gripping her, yet the weight of his quiet confident voice and the memories of past slips pushed her toward giving in. With shaky fingers, she stepped out from behind the counter and moved to the corner booth. She peeled off her clothes one by one until she stood bare before him, her skin prickling under his intense stare. She sat on the edge of the sturdy oak table, then reclined slowly, her legs trembling as they hung over the side, her breath short with expectation. The elder removed his robe with a frail, careful motion, showing a thin, weathered body, tough despite its age, alive with a quiet, stubborn strength. Naked, he stepped between her thighs, his presence surprisingly commanding as his gnarled hands rested lightly on her knees, nudging them apart with a gentle but firm pressure. "Are you ready, Mrs.G?", he asked, and she confirmed with a short nod. "Relax then, Mrs. G," he added, his breath warm against her inner thigh as he leaned closer, his touch light at first, tracing the curves of her hips. The tavern's heavy silence made every small movement louder. "Let's see how strongly a faithful wife holds her ground. Or maybe, let's remember those stories I've heard of you trembling under other elders' hands, softening at their words, giving in to forbidden touches. After those heated moments, does your hunger still burns? Did months of loneliness, with your husband away at work, fed that flame further?" Her cheeks burned at his words, the memories of past mistakes flooding back, each elder's taunt, each moment of weakness, mixing with the pain of her husband's long absence. She was left to carry the weight of the tavern and her unspoken desires alone. The shame stung, yet a risky heat flickered beneath it. His hands moved higher, fingertips grazing her inner thighs, teasing without rush, as if testing her boundaries. She tensed, her body stiff first, but a shiver gave her away as his touch lingered, drawing out a reluctant warmth. "How long has it been since you've truly been taken?" - he asked, his voice a low rasp as he leaned in, his lips brushing her collarbone, then trailing down, slow and careful, while one hand slid closer to her center, probing with a single, hesitant stroke along her folds. "I've heard how you shook for the others, one elder tasting your weakness, another marking you with his release. And yet, they say you've not been fully taken in all these months of testing. Shall we fix that tonight, bit by bit, until you can't say no anymore?" Her breath caught, his recounting of her past failings cutting through her walls, each word fueling the forbidden hunger she'd tried to bury. His finger dipped into her, a small intrusion that pulled a quiet gasp from her. Her hands gripped the table's edge as she fought the urge to give in. But her hips shifted, just a little, an unconscious signal he noticed with a dry chuckle. He pressed on, his touch growing bolder, circling her sensitive spot with frustrating slowness, while his free hand guided her thighs wider, little by little, undoing her resistance with every careful stroke. "You feel it, don't you?" he urged, his tone mocking now as he moved closer, his frail form lining up with hers. The tip of his hardened length now brushed against her entrance, not pushing in yet, just teasing. "All those months of near surrenders, of coming close to the edge, and never quite crossing it, not fully. Your body recalls every elder's game and craves the finish. Tell me, has your husband, gone so long, ever known this side of you, shaking on the brink?" Her willpower weakened more, his words and the shadow of his touch sparking a deep, aching need she couldn't fully push down. Her hips tilted again, a silent plea, and he rewarded it with the slightest push forward, entering her just a tiny bit, a shallow start that sent a shock through her core. She gasped, her body tightening then easing as he paused, letting her feel it, his eyes glinting with victory at her slow surrender. Gradually, he pressed deeper, bit by careful bit, stretching her with a patience that was both torture and relief. Each small move forward drew a soft, unwilling moan from her lips. "That's it, Mrs. G," he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction as he slid further, filling her little by little, her warmth wrapping around him as her resistance fell apart completely. "Look at you shaking as my cock enters your soaked pussy! After all these months, finally taken, fully claimed. No more halfway games, no more teasing the edge. Your body's been waiting for this, hasn't it, despite your vows?" "Yes." - she whispered, slowly moving her hips, silent request for the elder to start fucking her properly. The elder responded, and his withered frame set a steady, determined rhythm. Each thrust went deeper, more consuming, until he was fully inside her. Months of built up tension unraveled in raw, forbidden pleasure. Her hands clutched the table harder, knuckles white, as her body betrayed her utterly. Her hips met his movements, giving in bit by surrendered bit to the act she'd avoided for so long. The air grew heavy with the scent of their sin. The wet, rhythmic sound of their joining echoed in the empty tavern, her quiet whimpers showing her final giving in after months of holding back. "You failed the test." he growled, his pace quickening just enough to push her further. "You are not a virtuous woman Mrs.G", he said, "You are a village slut, being fucked by a old man, while your husband works far away, unaware of the claiming of his wife right here on her own tavern table." "And from now on, that's how you will be treated." - he added. His words broke the last of her restraint. With a choked, shaking cry, the climax ripped through her. Her body convulsed beneath him, hips arching into his steady thrusts as waves of long denied pleasure crashed over her. Her bare skin shone with sweat, slick against the wood. Though she turned her face aside to hide the raw pleasure twisting her features, the elder's hoarse grunt as he reached his own peak, spilling hot inside her, told her he saw every moment of her fall. After months of teasing, of resisting just short of this line, she had been taken, completely and undeniably, the act sealing her deepest surrender. "No more hiding your true nature, my dear," he panted, pulling back slightly, his chest heaving as he stood over her spent, trembling form in the dim booth. His essence mingled with hers as proof of their deed. Mrs. G lay there, breath uneven, shame and satisfied lust fighting inside her as she felt the sticky aftermath beneath her on the table. Her mind screamed at her betrayal, pained by thoughts of her distant husband and the weight of this long delayed act in her own tavern. Yet her body hummed with the glow of a hunger finally fed after months of denial, uncaring of her vows or the elder's harsh taunts. In that foggy haze of aftermath, the last words of the elder ringed in her mind, and she knew this ordeal was far from the last, and a dark, hidden part of her trembled at how deeply she yearned for whatever might come next.