NTR: Stealing Nobles and Wives in another world-Chapter 14: Training (18+)

Dawn breaks over Westfield Manor, but I'm already awake—not by choice. Every muscle in my body screams in protest as I try to sit up.

Yesterday's training session with Lady Keira left me feeling like I'd been trampled by a warhorse. My Enhanced Physique ability helps with recovery, but even transmigrant healing has its limits.

I'm still groaning and stretching when sharp knocking echoes through my door.

"Training begins at dawn," comes Keira's voice through the wood. "Not whenever you feel like crawling out of bed."

"I'm awake," I call back, wincing as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.

"Then why aren't you in the courtyard?" The door handle turns, and she steps inside without waiting for permission. "What did I tell you about—"

Her words cut off abruptly. I'm standing beside my bed in nothing but smallclothes, morning light streaming through the window highlighting my physique.

The Enhanced Physique ability doesn't just improve my stamina and strength—it's enhanced everything about my physical form.

Lady Keira's eyes widen as they travel downward, her gaze lingering on my obvious endowment. Color rises in her cheeks, and I catch the slight hitch in her breathing.

"I... you should..." She turns away quickly, but not before I notice her biting her lower lip. "Get dressed. Now."

"Maybe knock next time?" I suggest, making no immediate move to cover myself. My Natural Charm ability seems to activate automatically in her presence now, creating a subtle warmth that fills the space between us.

"Don't be presumptuous," she snaps, but her voice lacks its usual authority. "You have five minutes to meet me in the courtyard, or today's training will be twice as brutal."

She storms out, slamming the door behind her. But I caught the lingering look she gave me in the mirror's reflection before leaving.

---

Ten minutes later, I find her in the training courtyard, her posture rigid as she examines a rack of practice weapons.

She's chosen a simple tunic and fitted breeches today—practical training clothes that nonetheless highlight her athletic figure.

"You're late," she says without turning around.

"By five minutes. Hardly worth doubling my punishment."

She spins to face me, eyes flashing. "Everything about your performance needs improvement, including punctuality. In the tournament, hesitation for even a second could—"

"Could get me killed, yes. You've mentioned that." I approach slowly, noting how her gaze briefly drops to my chest before snapping back up. "What's today's lesson?"

"Combining defense and attack." She tosses me a practice sword, which I catch more smoothly than I would have yesterday. "Yesterday you learned basic forms. Today we see if you can use them when someone's actually trying to hit you."

She draws her own blade in one fluid motion. "Guard position."

I fall into the stance she taught me, muscle memory already forming. My left foot placement, blade angle, weight distribution—all automatically correct.

"Better," she admits grudgingly. "Now, I'm going to attack you slowly. Your job is to block, then immediately counter with the basic thrust sequence. Ready?"

Her first attack comes as promised—slow enough that I can see it coming and react. I manage to deflect it with my blade, then attempt the counter-attack she mentioned.

"Pathetic," she declares. "Your block was acceptable, but your counter had no power behind it. Again."

For the next hour, we repeat this pattern. Attack, block, counter, correction. Each repetition flows slightly better than the last, my body beginning to understand the rhythm of combat.

"Your problem is here," she says during a brief rest, pressing her hand against my lower abdomen. "You're not engaging your core properly. All the power comes from here, just like—"

She stops mid-sentence, realizing her hand is still pressed against my body. The contact sends warmth through both of us—my Natural Charm responding to the prolonged touch.

"Just like what?" I ask quietly.

"Like..." Her voice becomes slightly breathless. "Like when you're thrusting during sex. The power comes from your hips, your core. Not from your arms."

Her hand remains pressed against me as she speaks, and I can feel her pulse quickening through her fingertips. The morning air seems charged with tension.

"Show me," I say.

"What?" Her eyes meet mine, pupils slightly dilated.

"Show me the proper form. I learn better with hands-on instruction."

She should step away. We both know it. Instead, she moves behind me, her body close enough that I can feel her warmth.

"Like this," she murmurs, placing one hand on my hip, the other on my lower back. "Feel how the movement starts here, travels through your core, and extends through your arms."

She guides me through the motion, her body pressed against my back. Each repetition brings us closer together, her breathing becoming more irregular.

"The rhythm is important," she continues, her voice husky. "Steady, controlled thrusts. Building intensity gradually until..."

"Until what?" I turn in her arms, bringing us face to face.

She stares up at me, conflict clear in her eyes. "Until you achieve your objective."

The double meaning hangs between us. My hands find her waist, and she doesn't pull away.

"Keira..." I begin.

"This isn't appropriate," she whispers, but makes no move to step back.

"Then why aren't you stopping it?"

Her answer comes not in words but in the way she leans slightly into my touch. The married, disgraced champion is fighting a battle against desires she's clearly suppressed for too long.

"My husband..." she starts weakly.

"Isn't here," I finish. "And doesn't appreciate what he has."

My thumb traces along her jawline, and she closes her eyes, a soft sound escaping her lips.

"We shouldn't..." But even as she protests, her hands come up to rest against my chest.

"I know what you want," I say softly, letting my Natural Charm ability flow through my voice. "You've wanted it since that first day when you had to look away."

Her eyes snap open, fire and desire warring within them. "You're presumptuous."

"Am I wrong?"

For a moment, I think she might deny it. Then her professional facade cracks entirely.

"No," she breathes. "You're not wrong."

---

What happens next unfolds like a dam breaking. Years of frustration, political constraints, and unfulfilled desires pour out as she surrenders to the moment. Her lips find mine with desperate hunger, and I respond with equal passion.

My hands tangle in her hair while hers explore the physique she's been stealing glances at all morning. The training courtyard, the political complications, the risks—all fade away in the face of pure, overwhelming need.

"I've wanted this," she gasps between kisses. "God help me, I've wanted this since yesterday."

I lift her easily, my Enhanced Physique making her athletic form feel weightless. She wraps her legs around me as I carry her to the stone bench, setting her down gently.

"Tell me what you want," I murmur against her neck.

"I want..." She shudders as I find that sensitive spot below her ear. "I want you to make me forget everything else exists."

---

I grabbed her chin, kissed her deep, and fumbled with her shirt.

She pushed my hands away, tore it off—her breasts bounced out, nipples begging for me. I grabbed them, pinched her nipples until she moaned, pressing them into my hands.

"Daren..." she gasped, desperate."Quiet," I whispered, biting her ear.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard.

"I sucked her nipple, biting and licking it. She moaned, pulling my hair, grinding on me.

I switched to the other one, going harder until she was soaked.

I dropped to my knees, yanked her pants and underwear down fast. Her wet pussy was right there, smelling incredible.

I spread her legs, licked her thigh, then her slit. "You taste amazing," I said, diving in, licking deep, sucking her clit.

"Daren!" she screamed, clawing my shoulders, rubbing her pussy on my face.I went at her hard, tongue deep, then fast on her clit.

She was shaking, moaning loud. "Cum for me," I said, mouth full of her.

She came hard, pussy pulsing, soaking my face. I licked her through it 'til she slumped, whimpering. ƒreewebɳovel.com

I stood, wiped my mouth, and kissed her rough, letting her taste herself. She moaned, ripped my pants open. My cock popped out, hard and dripping.

She stared, then said, "I need you inside me. Fuck me now."I lifted her, legs around me, and shoved my cock into her wet pussy all at once.

She screamed, tight and hot around me.

"You're perfect," I said, gripping her.

"Move!" she snapped, scratching my back.

I fucked her hard against the wall, filling her up.

Our bodies slapped together, her breasts bouncing, her moans loud. I kept going, fast and strong.

"Harder!" she begged, squeezing me tight.I angled deeper, hitting her spot. She screamed, close again.

"Take it," I said, pounding her.

"Daren, I'm—fuck!" She came, pussy gripping me 'til I lost it.

I came hard, filling her up, hips jerking.

We collapsed against the wall, shaking. I set her down, legs wobbly, my cum on her thighs.

She looked messy but happy."That was..." she started, leaning on me.

"Amazing," I finished, smiling."We can't—" she said, serious.

"We will," I cut in, kissing her. "Next time, I'll take you on the bench.

"...should be in the training courtyard," comes Ser Aldric's voice from somewhere inside the manor.

Keira's eyes go wide with panic and something else—excitement at the danger. We separate quickly but not frantically, both of us breathing hard.

"The weapon forms," she says quietly, tossing me my practice sword. "We were working on weapon forms."

I catch the blade and fall into a guard position just as the courtyard door opens. Ser Aldric enters with two other men I don't recognize, all wearing House Ironmont colors.

"Ah, there you are, my dear," Aldric says with his practiced smile. "How goes our young champion's progress?"

"Slowly," Keira replies, her voice steady despite what just transpired. "His form needs considerable work."

"I'm sure it does." Aldric's tone carries subtle mockery. "We've come to discuss some changes to the tournament arrangements. Nothing that requires your input, of course."

The dismissal is clear, and I watch anger flash in Keira's eyes. But she simply nods.

"Of course. I'll continue the training session."

As the men retreat into the manor for their discussion, Keira turns back to me. The passion from moments before has been replaced by something more complex—satisfaction mixed with renewed frustration at her circumstances.

"That," she says quietly, "cannot happen again."

"Can't it?" I ask, noting how her eyes still linger on my form.

"I'm married. You're my student. The political ramifications if we were discovered..."

"But we weren't discovered."

She studies me for a long moment. "You're dangerous, Daren. More dangerous than I initially thought."

"Is that a bad thing?"

A slow smile spreads across her face—the first genuine smile I've seen from her.

"That remains to be seen. Now, back to your stance. Your husband may not appreciate you properly, but I intend to make sure you're ready for this tournament."

As we return to training, the tension between us has fundamentally changed. The professional instructor and struggling student dynamic now carries an undercurrent of shared desire and possibility.

My status window flickers briefly:

[QUEST UPDATE]

"The Trainer's Heart"

Progress: 35%

New Objective Unlocked: Navigate the growing relationship while maintaining discretion

The next two weeks suddenly seem far more interesting than just learning swordplay.