Maja receives a hostile welcome

A few days later, Sigvard Karlsson sat behind his desk with a newly opened letter in his hand, from a certain Patrik Stark. Judging from the tone, the handwriting and the fancy immaculate paper, the sender was a young and wealthy man from Stockholm.

"My most undear Mr. Karlsson," read the letter, "Forgive my drunken ramblings, but I must write you my most envious admiration. I had the great pleasure of hosting your wonderful wife in my home for the past month and somehow, despite all my gentlemanly efforts, I could never manage to seduce her. You, sir, have as your wife the most beautiful and faithful woman of all Sweden. Pray that you remain worthy of her, for if I ever hear that you are not, I will come find you and shoot you dead like the peasant trash you are."

Anger made the farmer clench his teeth as he reached the arrogant and contemptuous threat at the end of the letter. He wanted to crumble the paper and throw it on the ground, followed by all the other letters, maps, ledgers, empty mugs, pens and inkpots that messily covered his desk. How dared anyone threaten him in this manner? But through the anger an inner voice managed to make itself heard: "And are you worthy of her, Mr. Karlsson?"

Images of a girl with fair skin and curly hair, kneeling with his cock deep in her mouth, came to his mind. Another of him punishing her with both palms and a thin rod, and later fucking her as a reward when she'd proven her obedience. For two months now Sigvard had enjoyed his very own ****, a young not-so-innocent lamb to do what he wanted with. If he was honest with himself, he had never really planned of giving up this newfound pleasure when Maja returned. That most certainly did not make him worthy of his wife’s faithfulness.

Someone knocked on the door. "Mrs. Karlsson is here, sir," said Lisa after entering and curtsying.

The farmer dropped the letter on the table and examined his new maid. He thought Sara was a wonderful young girl, with all that entailed. In any village or lesser town, she would be hailed as the greatest beauty. But Lisa was more than just beautiful or cute. She dazzled every room she stepped into. She had a doll-sweet face with smooth, porcelain-like features, sun-golden hair and bright eyes. Her body was well turned, her hips just wide enough to be described as curvy, and she had started to fill out those dresses a bit more during her time here, slowly making up for what she had previously been missing as a child growing up in a poor family. And her breasts – even through the fabric of her dress, he could still make out the beautiful forms – firm and as made to be fondled and squeezed.

In ancient times, a great war had been fought between the united city-states of Greece and Troy, just for one woman. Sigvard imagined that Helene might have approached Lisa's beauty. To have such a revelation in front of him... lying on her back, naked, with her legs parted, hunger burning in those innocent eyes of her… The farmer realized he was not only staring, but also building an erection while doing so. He **** his thoughts back to the present. He had plans for Lisa, but now he had to focus on the next few moments, for his wife’s return threatened to make a terrible mess of it all.

"Tell her to meet me up here, if you would, my dear."

"Yes, Mr. Karlsson."

The girl curtsied again, slightly overcompensating, and left. Sigvard reached for the letter and read the words one last time before his wife’s arrival. In a way, he almost wished that the young prick from the capital had written to say he had made him a cuckold; his own transgressions would then have been so much easier to justify. Suddenly, he saw how he might do so anyways: he could be angry at whatever trifle she did during her trip, and guilt her into not criticizing his far worse shortcomings. It was a risky tactic that might well backfire, of course, but what other choice did he have?

The study’s door opened again, and Maja entered the room, radiant and happy. She wore a tight and simple but elegant purple dress, embroidered with delicate floral patterns, that she must have had made by one of Stockholm’s fine tailors. Or maybe that a suitor had ordered for her as a gift… Smiling, Sigvard’s wife confidently walked towards him with open arms, but stopped near him when she saw his closed expression.

"Hello, darling," he said, his tone devoid of the warmth his words might have conveyed.

"My love, what’s the matter?" she asked, her cheerfulness rapidly melting. "Are there bad news?"

Maja tried to take the letter from his hands, but he kept it away from her grasp; still, she managed to see the signature at the bottom of the message.

"What?" she exclaimed, bewildered. "Patrik wrote to you? What on earth about?"

"About how you flirted with him for weeks!" the farmer shouted while furiously shredding the letter with his hands. "You lived in his home, you led him on like a vulgar tease and now that bastard has the gall of insulting and threatening me!"

Sigvard threw the bits of paper in his study’s empty fireplace and stared at his wife, waiting for an answer. Despite his apparent hostility, he was more than ever struck by her beauty. After living with another person long enough, it was easy to take one’s feelings for granted and lose sight of what they truly meant. Easy to forget what love really was. But finally seeing her again after such a long time reminded him of how much she truly meant for him. This merely deepened his shame towards his own recent decisions, but he could not let her see that.

"Darling, please, that’s not at all what happened!" she defended herself. "Patrik pursued me, true, but I turned him down every time, I promise. He’s just jealous that I chose you and not him, don’t mind his wounded pride!"

"So you didn’t want to fuck him? Can you swear it?"

Maja seemed shocked by his language but ultimately shook her head, looking increasingly embarrassed.

"No I can’t, because I did want to, but – "

"You did," dryly repeated Sigvard. "And you touched yourself while fantasizing about him?"

She lowered her gaze and nodded. This demure attitude merely made her cuter still, her curly hair framing a mature but wrinkle-free face, with full lips and smooth cheeks. Though her eyes were usually playful, like a kitten sneaking up on its master with the intention of slaying his wicked fingers, they were now downcast and sad. The farmer felt guilty for playing this way with his wife’s feelings.

"How many times?" he nonetheless pressed on.

She drew in her breath. "Every night for a month. But please, Sigvard, it was so that I didn’t lose my mind, so that I could stay true to you!"

He felt himself stiffen. Every night? He didn’t know his wife to be so lustful; after all, how long had it been since she wanted to be touched every night?

"Lose your mind?" he interrogated her still, his tone sarcastic. "And what made you desire that scoundrel more than your own husband?"

"Well I…" she wavered, closing her eyes as if to hide from her own shame. "I don’t know… he had a reputation… That he did… Wicked things, and I…"

"And you wanted him to be wicked with you," the farmer concluded harshly.

"Oh I beg you, my love," Maja answered tearfully. "I’m so sorry, please don’t be upset with me. What can I do so that you forgive me?"

Sigvard felt relieved: he had maneuvered his wife exactly where he wanted her emotionally and could finally stop being so unjustly mean to her. He cupped one of her cheeks and gently raised her face towards his.

"The truth is that we must forgive each other, my darling," he revealed softly. "Whatever you did, I did worse. I faced the same temptation as you, but unlike you I faltered."

"You… you did?" she asked, hesitantly wiping away her tears, seeming more relieved than offended. "So… you are not angry with me?"

"Not if we forgive each other. Let’s agree to leave our mistakes behind us and continue as a husband and wife should, united by our love."

"Yes, of course," she said, a timid smile finally returning to her beautiful face. "I love you now and forever, you know that."

The farmer took her face in both of his hands and kissed her passionately. Her lips were warm and the kiss was long, made ever sweeter by their reconciliation. They made out for a full minute, but just when he felt a clear erection and wanted to go further, feeling her wonderful forms through her dress, Maja disengaged herself from their embrace and moved away slightly.

"But… Who was it?" she asked.

Sigvard felt stuck, trapped by his previous choices. His marriage was probably safe if he told her everything, Maja having already forgiven him on the principle of it. The problem was that if he revealed who his lover was, she would most certainly demand that he break off his relationship with her, which he desperately wanted to avoid. He could not bear the thought of losing Sara. Yet such an affair within his own home could not be kept a secret: he needed Maja not just to forgive it but to accept it.

Was there any way to convince her? The farmer felt that he could just give up, but he also wanted to have it all.