Steam is everywhere once we walk into the bathroom in the adjoining chamber. Our clothes are carelessly flung aside as Reka leads me into the bath, really more like a hot tub with stairs leading down, almost a small pool. It's absolutely overkill for just two people, but I'm not complaining about the royal treatment. Everything is white, possibly marble, and the surface on the bottom is slightly rough for good traction. There is even a little bench around the lip, allowing us to sit down.

  Reka dunks her head under the water, then comes back up to lean against my shoulder. Her wet hair is a perfume of lavender and that familiar ozone smell I've come to associate with magic. Oh, and a hint of brimstone. Perhaps our bathwater comes from natural hot springs, sulfur and all.

  "Feel the heat of the land, Brad: my land, our land. Starting today, you'll receive everything you deserve."

  Ah, I could really get used to this, I think, as I allow myself to sink lower until only my head remains above water. Reka's smooth white skin shines with moisture, every last exquisite inch of her visible in the pristine water. Using a cleaning spell rather than soap was really the right decision.

  We sit in silence for a time, and my mind drifts to the world we left behind. I didn't quite finish my degree, but who cares? It's possible this world doesn't even have the concept of universities.

  "What are you thinking about?" Reka asks.

  "How I don't have any regrets, how I've already got everything I want," I say.

  Reka's eyes flash this time, really flash with true magic. "Your love strengthens me, you know. I dare say I couldn't conjure so much as a mote of light without you by my side, so long have I been away. Only together can I regain my full power." She clasps my hand in both of hers, a silent promise passing between us. I love this woman so very, very much. This is our forever.

  We hold each other for a while, the stress of our interdimensional journey washing away in the water, then Reka stands abruptly, wet and dripping, naked and unashamed.

  "Right, let us dress for the evening, and repair to the hospitality of my hall."

  With Reka's assistance, I climb out of the bath, and she surprises me with a sudden hug that drives the breath out of my lungs. Her large breasts compress against my chest, and I feel little Brad start to stir below my waist.

  "Furor!" I hear Reka say clearly against my neck.

  Hot winds buffet us, rapidly stripping away every last droplet of moisture. Now completely dry, Reka smiles at me teasingly before running back into our bedroom and shutting the door behind her, leaving me all alone. Her musical giggles echo mockingly from the bathroom walls.

  "Hey, wait!" I call out after her. Reka is always doing nonsense like this. She's like a little kid sometimes, honestly. I shake my head at her antics, then follow in her wake.

  "Ta dah!" Reka is somehow already dressed, striking a pose just as I re-enter the bedroom. Her hands clutch her skirt, and she twirls for me, providing a 360-degree view.

  The gown is a purple silk brocade, rich and light, with long, droopy sleeves that hang down and a silver pattern stitched along the hem. The shoulders flare out, giving the dress a magical motif, almost like a wizard's robe, which, I suppose, it is. It's cut daringly low, typical for Reka. She always likes to show the girls off, not that I'm complaining.

  "Fetching, no?" she preens. "Earth fashion is fine, but terribly drab and plain. Bright colors are so much better!"

  I notice my outfit is laid out on the bed as well. I've read enough medieval fiction to more or less know what the individual clothing items are called. There are breeches and hose, along with a doublet, I think. Same material as Reka's dress, which means it's hideously expensive. Same color scheme, too.

  I raise an eyebrow. "Purple and silver?"

  "Think of it as our house colors," Reka explains. "Now come here, I'll help you dress."

  At first, I want to refuse. What am I, a child? Still, I don't want to accidentally rip anything. If this setting is anything like I think it is, my clothes are worth more than a peasant family earns in a year.

  It turns out I actually do need help. Reka has to tie on my sleeves. They don't come attached to the doublet!

  "Normally, a servant would do this, but I don't really fancy the thought of someone else touching you," she says conversationally.

  I notice a mirror hanging over the writing desk. There we are, dressed for the fanciest Renaissance fair of all time.

  "Now you look a proper lord," she says appreciatively.

  "Will people really treat me like a lord?" I ask as she adjusts my collar.

  "I'll incinerate them if they don't," Reka says flatly.

  I laugh at the comment, but she doesn't. There's a beat of silence. Oh. She's serious.

  Anyway...

  We link arms and walk down to the great hall together. The staircase is a bit less daunting going down. Still, I feel somewhat ridiculous in my current getup. Reka, in contrast, wears her dress as naturally as breathing.

  "They'll all love you as I love you," she assures me, her voice carrying far in the empty passageway leading back to the great hall.

  "Hope you're right, babe," I say tightly.

  "The Lord and Lady Regis!" Galiban announces. I hear a trumpet playing a short fanfare. Is every day going to be so theatrical? I hope not.

  We enter, not to cheers or applause, but baffled silence. The people, servants, I suppose, freeze in place, just standing wherever. They stare.

  "Uh, hi," I say, succeeding only in making the moment more awkward.

  "This way, my love." Reka grips me tighter and leads me toward an elevated platform at the far end of the hall. "You may continue carrying out your duties," she tells the room. They snap back to reality quickly enough. A band of musicians in the corner strikes up a "bardcore" tune, or perhaps it's just contemporary music here. Everyone else scatters like roaches.

  The dais, I believe it's called, has one long table but only places set for two. Two elaborate chairs, carved from the same dark wood as our bedframe, are waiting for us. Beneath the banquet board are rows of benches and trestle tables where lower-ranking people sit at meals, if all those books I read are to be believed. To complete the cliches, they are quite literally "below the salt", as our high table is at the same level as an ornate salt cellar with figures of demons or gargoyles worked into it. The rafters above, being new, are not yet blackened by smoke, so there's that.

  "Dressed as fine as Elven lords," I hear a man with a rough voice mutter below.

  "I'll say," a woman agrees. "Imagine, Men in silk. Things might be turning around for us. Our lady is rich, and no mistake."

  "Aye, we get enough to eat now. I'll take this any day over scrubbing the floors of some long-eared old miser for naught but a crust of bread."

  I turn to Reka. "Are humans badly off here?" I ask her, thoroughly intrigued.

  She shifts in her chair, more of a throne, really, to look at me directly. "That's so. To put it in terms you would understand, Elves are the dominant intelligent species in this world. Humanity is comparatively less developed. Think 'dark ages' versus 'early renaissance'."

  Hmm, food for thought. "Are they second-class citizens?" That might be a problem.

  "It varies," Reka explains. "The Elven kingdoms to the south are vast and rich, and how they treat human workers and adventurers is not always kind. There are small independent human principalities scattered here and there, but most pay tribute to an Elven overlord. You'll also find a Dwarven mountain or Orcish swamp in diverse places."

  "Adventurers?" My ears perk up immediately at that word. Could it be?

  Reka throws her head back and laughs. "Yes, we can go on adventures, after you've trained up a bit, and I've built up more of my old magic. Galiban can run things here pretty well in my absence. Don't think we're trapped here. Malmark is our home, but there is a whole new world we can explore together."

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Warmth blooms in my heart, filling it to bursting. It's what I've always wanted! "I love you," I blurt out more forcefully than necessary.

  Reka, my sophisticated, impossibly intelligent girlfriend, can still blush. "I'm destroying you tonight," she promises quietly. Those green eyes of hers narrow and darken, implying much.

  Oh. Oh...

  Before we can flirt anymore, the food is brought in.

  "Ah, manners lesson, Brad. At a formal feast, the man is supposed to cut the meat for the lady to his left and serve her. See that knife there? It's yours now. Make sure to carry it all the time."

  I listen intently to her direction as a large platter of roast beef is brought forward, very thankful we have forks. Actual silverware is not at all guaranteed in a medieval setting! Cutting off a portion of meat for her and then myself is easy enough. It's tender and a little bloody, a perfect medium rare. In lieu of plates, we use a round slice of hard, stale bread called a trencher to eat off of. I busy myself cutting Reka's food into bite-sized pieces while another servant brings us each a bowl of vegetable stew and rolls of freshly-baked white bread that smell absolutely delicious, still steaming slightly from the oven.

  A young lady with a pitcher approaches and fills up our silver goblets with wine. She looks...awful. For a single, dark moment, I consider the possibility that Reka intentionally hired ugly female servants so I wouldn't be tempted. Then I look around and realize they're all like that, men and women both, with pinched, pockmarked faces. They're all short, stunted, and probably malnourished.

  I'm six feet tall, and I feel positively gigantic compared to them. It wasn't like that back on Earth. Last I checked, "tall" starts at 6'2" now, or 188 centimeters in non-freedom units. Inflation is wild.

  "These people have had hard lives," I say to Reka once the serving staff are out of earshot.

  "Indeed," she agrees, spearing a bite of beef with her fork. "The corn has gone a long way towards feeding them, at least. Most were on the edge of starvation when they came to me. This is not a rich land, dearest. People don't come here by choice."

  I feel a bit bad about the delicious food I'm eating while we discuss the general poverty of the northern part of this continent. Apparently, there was a great war a generation ago, and the land is still scarred from it. The hot climate and lack of water aren't great, either. Before Reka built her castle, very little grew here.

  "The roast is unreal," I say appreciatively. It really, really is, with a deep, complex, almost nutty flavor that puts Earth meat to shame.

  "Aye, and well-hung," Reka adds.

  I nearly choke on the wine I'm sipping on to wash down the beef. "Well-hung?"

  "Hung and aged, Brad, get your mind out of the gutter," she chides me.

  Huh, I didn't know you could age meat like wine. Interesting. "Good bread, this," I try to change the subject.

  "The wheat was imported at great cost," Reka tells me, munching on her roll as well. "The coast is a three-day journey to the west. Getting a ship to call at the little fishing village there was a chore. Poor Galiban. We'll usually be eating cornbread, just so you know. It grows better here."

  "Eating local is fine by me," I say agreeably.

  "Although..." Reka has a dangerous look on her face. I know that evil smirk. "Your notion of trade is a good one. With irrigation from the mountains and a bit of magic, we could grow just about anything. Why, chocolate alone..." she trails off, her green eyes burning with avarice.

  "Not just adventuring, babe, we can go into business together!" I say, holding up my silver goblet. We drink a toast to the idea.

  Our moment is somewhat dampened when I notice one of the servants on the bench below is crying. I catch Reka's eye, and she follows my gaze.

  "Meat, only lords eat meat," the wiry old man sobs softly.

  "It's the first time for me, too," says a sturdy-looking middle-aged woman who pats him on the back kindly. "Can you believe how good it is?"

  "That bad?" I ask Reka.

  She nods somberly. "I knew it would displease you. Fear not, beloved, we'll see these people prosper under our rule. This I vow!"

  That's right. We're not just playing. This isn't a vacation. These people have lives. Since we're in charge, don't we have an obligation to make their lives better? It's a daunting prospect, but I find myself looking forward to it. Working as a lord is going to be a lot more fulfilling than working for some Earth company, I think.

  We finish our meal, and Reka leaves orders for our leftovers to be distributed to the people. A bit buzzed from the wine, Reka steadies me as we return to our bedroom at the top of the tallest tower.

  "Let's watch something," Reka says, and takes my computer out of the suitcase I brought it in. I'd forgotten all about it.

  "You can really power it with magic?"

  "Easily," she confirms. "No internet, though. All we've got is saved media, good thing I saved it all." She smiled wickedly. "There are amusements to be had in this world, my love, but I knew you'd miss movies. I, too, quite fancy some of your dramas. It's the best thing about your world."

  She waves her hand, creating an image projection on the stone wall of our bedroom. It's HD quality, exactly matching the screen on my laptop. "See?" Reka looks so damned pleased with herself that it almost makes me gag.

  Idly, I watch the fourth episode of a Korean drama we were working our way through on Earth while Reka's gentle hands strip off my clothing. There are laces to unlace and buckles to unbuckle; she takes it all off in an unhurried manner, smooth and meticulous.

  Once she has my undershirt off, her eyes darken, and one arm strikes out like a viper. With a snap of her fingers, the show is paused. "There'll be time for that later," she whispers heatedly.

  Her glasses are off.

  Her glasses are off! That can only mean...

  My words are swallowed by her hungry mouth. She's on me. Those hands, those strong arms, previously gentle, now crush me to her. Sharp fingernails dig into my back, leaving marks I know will be there tomorrow.

  I try to pull away. "Reka, not so rou-"

  Her mouth is on me again. I smell ozone. Her magic is inflamed with her lust. She's not going to stop, I realize, not until she takes what she wants.

  With a jarring push, she sends me stumbling back into the bed. Before I can right myself, an unseen force fixes me in place. I can't look away.

  My girlfriend. My wife. My fucking lord and master draws me in like a black hole. I can't look away.

  She strikes a pose like a ballerina, lithe and poised.

  No. Not a ballerina, a lioness, graceful and deadly. With a careless shrug of her shoulders, Reka's dress slides off and crumples at her feet.

  Oh.

  She's wearing her sexiest lingerie, the kind she saves for special occasions. Reka's breasts are barely contained by a lacy black bra. Black stockings are held up by a garter belt at her waist. There's a wet spot on the crotch of her panties. She planned this.

  The lioness pounces, and I'm drowning again. Her legs straddle me while her long, graceful tongue invades my mouth, claiming it all. Her hips rock insistently, grinding her crotch into my painfully hard erection.

  "You're mine!" she growls. Those eyes of hers don't just flash. They're fucking glowing!

  Skin meets skin as our bodies crush together. I'm pinned against the bed, utterly helpless, and more turned on than I've ever been in my life. Magic Reka is on another level.

  Our bedroom is pleasantly cool, but Reka is a furnace, radiating a heat from inner fires that demand fuel. The hungry look in her eyes tells it all.

  I'm the fuel.

  Without ceremony, without words, without our lips parting, she slides off her panties, freeing her drooling pussy. My hips buck up of their own volition, desperate to drive my cock inside her, to put it where it belongs.

  "I won't make you beg, my love," she says, her voice distorted with power. "I want it as much as you!"

  In one smooth motion, she sits up and rips my underwear off in lustful haste.

  At last, my naked dick is exposed to the air. Reka licks her lips, and for a moment, I think she's about to take it into her mouth, as she has so many times before. But no, she rises, looming over me like a conqueror, then lowers herself down, enveloping all.

  She's so wet that I slide in without resistance. Her pussy ripples around me in appreciation, almost like a living thing. It grips me greedily, unwilling to let go.

  It's too much, too fucking much. I almost blow my load there and then, but Reka won't let me. Her control of her own body and mine is peerless. She could torment me for hours at the edge of bliss if she wished.

  She doesn't bounce. No, that would be premature. Reka grinds. Leaning forward, she rests her heavy breasts on my chest and kisses me again, this one not so hungry now that her pussy is being fed properly.

  I've pulled myself back together, no longer teetering on the precipice.

  "Think you can handle my bare breasts?" she teases. The grinding is slow and steady, bearable.

  "Yes," I force the word out, husky and breathless. My hands find her hips, and her hands reach back to unclasp her bra. The garment drops forward, revealing Reka's fat tits.

  The nipples look as painfully hard as my dick. "Suck them," she commands, leaning forward again to allow me access.

  She tastes of lavender seasoned with an electric shock. Ozone is everywhere now. Pressure is building up around our bed. Grinding becomes rocking, our hips coming together in a primal, familiar rhythm. We've done this hundreds of times, maybe thousands. My body knows who it belongs to.

  I know what she's doing: grinding her clit into my pubic bone, squeezing me on the downstroke, angling her hips so my cock brushes her g-spot with every withdrawal. Reka is already chasing her peak, but taking her time about it. More than any other woman I've ever slept with, Reka knows exactly how to make herself cum, and with the gradual, deliberate way she's building up to it, it'll be a big one, I'm sure.

  Her hips slam down this time, hard, driving me into the bed and making me grit my teeth.

  Hold on, I tell myself. Not yet. If I can't let out my seed, I let out my feelings.

  "I love you so fucking much," I say, looking right into her green eyes. They're alight with power.

  "I love you too!" she moans, bearing down on me.

  Tump! Tump! Tump! She's really fucking me now. The whole bed shakes with the force of it. My hands clutch her hips desperately, trying to hold on. Reka's pussy flutters, and my balls tighten. It won't be long.

  "Don't look away!" Reka orders roughly. She grips my shoulders for leverage and increases her pace.

  I...I...

  "I'm gonna..." I rasp out, unable to say more.

  Faster. Faster.

  At the end, even Reka loses control. Her pussy goes wild on my cock, and her whole body spasms. That's it.

  I cum like a firehose. I cum like a geyser. My hips buck up into Reka. There's no rhythm anymore, only dumb animal rutting as we slam into each other, trying to get deeper, trying to get closer, trying to melt into one another.

  With one last inarticulate howl, Reka covers my mouth with her own. My moans, her moans, who can tell? Our tongues seek out one another, and we become one, truly one. Her eyes, though, her eyes are still wide open.

  I love you, they say. I can tell. Her eyes speak to me more clearly than any mere words. We're joined everywhere a man and woman can be joined.

  Something leaves me as her demanding pussy squeezes out the last dribbles of my orgasm. Energy, maybe? I'm exhausted, but she's positively thrumming with power. It's as bright as daytime in our bedroom; every candle flame burns twice as high.

  With a deep breath, Reka swallows the force that was radiating off of her in waves, and the candles return to normal. There's a mad smile on her face, as if she's just realized something, something important. I'm too exhausted to inquire.

  Reka casts a cleaning spell. It works faster this time. Without another word, she covers us both and holds me close. Gradually, my heartbeat returns to normal, and sleep takes me. What a day.

  Reka in her dress