Juan, reborn as a medieval nobleman, discovers Marta and Tomás in the stable and forge a secret pact: he observes them every night, guiding their encounters with hands and words while his own desire burns in the gloom of the fortress.
Juan opened his eyes in a world that did not belong to him. The carved stone ceiling, the dark oak beams, the smell of burning firewood and candle wax: everything was new and ancient at the same time. He had died in his previous world, in an era of electric cars and touch screens, and now he was waking up as the son of a nobleman in a medieval fortress. He was eighteen years old, had a young and healthy body, and held a position that granted him power over dozens of servants and peasants. But what truly transformed his new life was the night he discovered Marta.
It was during a rainy autumn afternoon. Juan had wandered away from the main quarters seeking refuge from noble boredom when he heard sounds coming from the adjoining stables. Muffled groans, the creaking of fresh straw, low and urgent laughter. He approached with silent steps, shod in soft leather boots that barely made a sound on the packed dirt. Through a crack in the splintered wood of the stable, he saw everything.
Marta, the maid who served the tables in the great dining hall, was bent over a pile of old blankets. Her skirts were pulled up to her waist, and her buttocks—enormous, round, of a milky whiteness that gleamed under the dim light of the stable—offered themselves shamelessly. Behind her, a peasant with broad shoulders and hands weathered by the plow held her by the hips with brute force. Juan held his breath. It was not ordinary sex he was witnessing. The peasant was penetrating her through her ass, slowly stretching that tight sphincter with deep and constant thrusts. Marta bit her own fist so as not to scream, while her flesh trembled with every thrust like ripples in a pond.
Juan could not turn away. He stayed there, glued to the wood, watching how the peasant buried his fingers into the generous flesh of those huge buttocks, spreading them apart to carve his way deeper inside. The wet, obscene sound of anal penetration echoed through the stable. Marta arched her back, offering herself further, and the peasant responded with more violent, almost brutal thrusts that made her heavy breasts hanging beneath her shake. Juan felt his member harden against the fabric of his breeches. He leaned against the wall with a trembling hand and began to touch himself slowly while watching the entire scene until the peasant finished with a low grunt, spilling inside her while Marta trembled and bit her lower lip almost to the point of bleeding.
The following day, Juan summoned Marta to his private chambers. The young woman, around twenty-five years old, with dark brown hair tied in a braid, hazel eyes, and skin weathered by work, presented herself trembling before him. Juan spoke to her calmly. He told her he knew what had happened in the stable. Marta grew pale, and her eyes filled with terror. But Juan did not punish her. He offered her a deal: she would be his personal maid, she would sleep in the antechamber of his quarters, and he would allow the peasant—whose name was Tomás—to continue visiting her. In exchange, she had to obey him in everything. Marta bowed her head in silence, and the pact was sealed.
The following weeks established a routine. Tomás would arrive at dusk, crossing the back courtyard of the fortress unseen, and climb the service stairs up to Juan's chambers. Marta's bed was in the antechamber, but soon Juan ordered it moved into his own chamber. He wanted to watch them. He needed to watch them.
The first night in the main room, Juan sat in the carved armchair by the window, his legs spread and his hand inside his breeches. Marta and Tomás undressed before him with initial awkwardness. The bodies of the peasant and the maid were revealed in all their rawness: he, wiry and weathered, with a thick, veiny member already throbbing strongly; she, abundant in her curves, with large, heavy breasts topped with dark nipples, wide hips, and those huge buttocks Juan had admired in the stable. When Tomás bent her over the bed and buried his face between her thighs, Juan masturbated slowly, taking in every detail. Marta groaned without holding back this time, knowing there was no need for silence.
Then, Tomás placed her on all fours upon the linen sheets. Juan stood up from the armchair and stepped closer, his erect member in hand, caressing himself with slow, deliberate movements. He stopped a palm's length from the bed. From that position, he could see everything: Marta's red opening being stretched by Tomás's thick dick, the way the lips stretched and yielded with every thrust, how the flesh of her buttocks rippled with each impact. Marta's breasts hung heavy, and Tomás massaged them with rough hands, pinching her nipples as he penetrated her deeper and deeper.
Juan masturbated with greater intensity, so close he could feel the heat of their bodies. The smell of sex filled the room: sweat, fluids, the musky scent of Marta, and the earth of the fields Tomás carried on his skin. Juan reached out his free hand and took Marta's, intertwining his fingers with hers while Tomás fucked her. She squeezed his hand tightly, and Juan spoke softly to her, instructing Tomás on how to take her like a mating prey: to hold her tighter by the hips, to tilt her further down to open her up better, to thrust into her with a steady, deep rhythm. Tomás obeyed, and Marta groaned with an open mouth, her eyes half-closed, while her ass was vulgarly penetrated before the attentive gaze of her lord.
When Tomás finished a second time, Marta knelt on the stone floor while the peasant stood in front of her, his dick still dripping. She took his balls into her mouth, sucking them with devotion, licking the base of his member as she cleaned it with an obedient tongue. Juan, standing beside them, masturbated watching the scene and came onto the floor with a low groan, his semen forming a white puddle on the cold flagstones.
The routine established itself naturally. Every night, the three of them met in Juan's chamber. The young noble masturbated happily while Marta and Tomás had wild, loving sex under his complicit gaze. There was a strange intimacy in that unequal trio: the nobleman who observed, the maid who yielded, the peasant who possessed. Juan never participated directly, but his presence was the axis around which everything revolved. He requested the positions, indicated the rhythm, took Marta's hand in the moments of greatest intensity, and taught Tomás the mating techniques his memory from another life provided him.
As the night deepened and the candles burned down, Tomás grew more urgent. He took her with brute force, ever tighter, digging his fingers into the white flesh of her hips until leaving red marks, thrusting into her with brutal strength while Marta gripped the sheets and screamed her pleasure without reservation. Juan, reclining in his armchair, member in hand, watched the scene with a satisfied smile, knowing that this new life, this medieval world granted to him, hid pleasures he could never have imagined in his previous existence.