However...

What you do not know is that the woman is not really a whore.

​She is a local woman, married just a year ago to a hardworking artisan, who works in the keep's domestic staff. She happened to overhear the handmaid complaining about your demand for a companion fluent in Almain, and sensing a rare opportunity for money, she offered to the hand maid to tell you about your request cannot be fulfilled. She then offer herself to you to fulfill the request.

​Her original plan was simple: take the silver, play along with whatever dark fantasies the foreign noble desired, and buy a purging potion from the herbalist the next morning to wipe her womb clean.

​But as the night raged on, something shifted inside her.

​As you filled her repeatedly in the dark, the shear taboo of the act swept away her caution. She is in the peak of her fertility, and as the two of you crashed together in the throes of unbridled passion, the raw reality of the illicit breeding took hold of her soul.

​If she gets pregnant tonight, the child will be a true child of lust, and conceived in a secret, wild encounter with a handsome, powerful young noble who is younger and far more striking than her husband.

​Returning to her husband's bed with another man's child growing in her womb is a scandalous, dangerous thought; the ultimate act of infidelity. Yet that very taboo sends a searing thrill straight through her blood, heightening her pleasure and driving her to thrust back against you with wild, desperate fervor.

​Layer upon layer of overwhelming sensation broke down her resolve until she surrendered entirely to the desire. She will not take the potion. She wants to be bred. She wants your seed.

​When you held her hips firmly at the end, locking her against you as you blasted your final pulse deep into her womb, she felt every drop. You were siring your seed inside her married womb, making her a partner in her own scandal, and that makes she peaked uncontrollably beneath you, her pussy gripping your shaft with fierce contractions to wring out every last drop.

​Later that afternoon, back in her modest home, she sits in a warm bath. As her fingers touch her swollen, sensitive pussy, still aching from your relentless fucking, she recalls the sensation of your heavy weight upon her. A slow, secretive smirk spreads across her face.

​She decides to let nature take its course.

​To ensure there is no doubt whose child it is, she cleverly feigns a lingering illness, tricking her husband into abstaining from her bed for the next several days.