The house was silent, except for the sound of Ethan's heartbeat, pounding in his ears like war drums. Sofia, his beloved, his life, stood before him, but not as he knew her. Surrounded by a crowd of men, her figure rose like a goddess of lust in the night's shadow. Each man seemed hypnotized by her presence, their movements a dance of anticipation and desire.

"Come, my darlings," Sofia's voice was a whisper that enveloped each man's soul. "Tonight, we celebrate the flesh and the spirit."

Ethan, frozen in his chair, felt every fiber of his being protesting against the immobility imposed by the voodoo doll that Sofia had manipulated with such skill. His eyes, the only witnesses to his agony, followed every gesture of his wife as she shed her robe, revealing a body that seemed sculpted by desire itself.

"I warned you, Ethan," Sofia whispered, her gaze meeting his, laden with a dark promise. "You should never have sought pleasure outside our bed."

One of the men, a tall guy with a wolfish smile, approached Sofia, his hands tracing her curves with reverence that made Ethan feel a sting of jealousy and disgust. "You're exquisite," the man murmured, his voice an echo of lust.

Sofia laughed, a sound that resonated like chimes in the night. "And you, Benjamin, will be the first to worship me."

With a fluid movement, she knelt before Benjamin, her hands guiding his to places that only Ethan thought he knew. The scene blurred for Ethan; every touch, every whisper of pleasure was a direct blow to his heart.

"I want you to surrender to me," Sofia said to Benjamin, her voice heavy with tangible seduction. "I want to feel your essence in my mouth."

The night progressed, and each man joined the ritual of desire that Sofia orchestrated with mastery. Each offered something unique—a caress, a kiss, a whisper that made her tremble. She guided them, teaching them how to please her, how to make her feel like the goddess she was at that moment.

Ethan, trapped in his flesh prison, watched as each man lost himself in Sofia, how she absorbed their vitality, their energy, in a dance of pleasure that seemed endless. The sounds of passion filled the room; every moan, every sigh, was a reminder of his betrayal and the retribution he now suffered.

The tension in the air was palpable; every move Sofia made, every exchange of pleasure, heightened Ethan's torture, who could only watch, feeling the night turn into an eternity of punishment and desire.

The room turned into a stage of excess, where time seemed to dissolve among the whispers of flesh and the broken gasps. Sofia, at the center of it all, was a whirlwind of sensuality, moving among the men with a precision that seemed almost supernatural. Each one of them, eager to please her, waited their turn as if it were a divine privilege.

"Do you feel this, Ethan?" Sofia said, her voice cutting through the air like a sharp knife, her eyes locking onto her husband's. "This is what you've lost. This is what you should never have betrayed."

Ethan tried to scream, but his throat was sealed by the power of the doll. He could only watch as Sofia gave herself to each man with an intensity that tore him apart inside. One of them, a robust man with a dark gaze, approached her with a complicit smile.

"What do you want from me, queen?" he murmured, his deep voice reverberating through the room.

Sofia looked at him with a spark of defiance in her eyes. "I want you to take me like you've never dared before. I want you to make me feel alive."

The man lifted her easily, his strong hands holding her by the hips as he carried her to the desk. He laid her face down, her legs spread, her body exposed in a way that made Ethan feel a knot in his stomach. The man positioned himself behind her, and with a slow but determined movement, began to explore her, his pace increasing with each gasp that escaped Sofia's lips.

"Do you like it like this?" he growled, his voice laden with a mix of dominance and desire.

"Yes, harder," Sofia responded between moans, her body moving to the rhythm of each thrust. "Make me forget everything else."

From his prison, Ethan felt each movement of that man as a direct blow to his soul. But it wasn't just the act that tortured him; it was the way Sofia enjoyed it, how her body responded with an intensity he had never managed to provoke.

Another man approached, drawn by the scene, and Sofia invited him with a gesture. "Come, I want to feel you too," she whispered, her voice a siren's song that no one could resist. She turned slightly, allowing the second man to approach her face. With one hand, she guided him to her mouth, her lips enveloping him with a devotion that made the man let out a grunt of satisfaction.

"Your taste... it's addictive," Sofia murmured, her words broken by the movements of the first man, who continued to thrust with an inexhaustible force.

Ethan watched as his wife lost herself in pleasure, how her body arched, how her hands gripped the edge of the desk while the two men pushed her to the limit. Then, with a stifled cry, Sofia reached climax, her body trembling as if an electric current coursed through it.

"Now you," she said, looking at the man in front of her with a perverse smile. "Give me what I desire most."

The man obeyed, his breathing quickened as she guided him to ecstasy. Sofia savored every moment, every drop of his surrender, as if it were an elixir that strengthened her, made her more powerful.

Ethan, with eyes full of tears of rage and helplessness, couldn't look away. Every detail, every sound, was etched into his mind like a branding iron. And Sofia, knowing he was watching, enjoyed it even more, her revenge consummating in each act, in each whisper of shared pleasure.

The night was far from over, and Ethan's torment had only just begun.

The atmosphere in the room had become almost tangible with lust and perversion. Sofia, now in her element, handled the men like pieces in an endless game of desire. Each one, under her spell, was an instrument of her pleasure and her revenge. The candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows over the entwined bodies in a ballet of lust.

"I want more," Sofia declared, her voice resonating with an authority only a queen of pleasure could possess. She rose from the desk, her body covered in sweat and traces of shared passion, and moved towards a large sofa in the center of the room, where several men already waited, their gazes filled with hunger and anticipation.

"You three," she pointed to a group of men distinguished by their height and strength, "I want you to take me together. I want to feel complete."

The men glanced at each other, a mix of excitement and astonishment on their faces. One of them, with a wolfish smile, approached first, positioning himself behind her. "As you wish," he whispered in her ear before proceeding.

Sofia leaned over the sofa, allowing the man behind her to penetrate her, while another knelt in front, his hands and lips exploring every inch of her being. The third man, watching the scene with a fiery gaze, positioned himself beside her, his hands caressing her skin before joining the play, finding his way to her mouth.

Ethan watched as his wife became the center of a whirlwind of desire. Each movement, each moan, each sigh of pleasure that escaped Sofia was like a dagger in his heart, a reminder of his betrayal and the magnificence of his punishment.

"Look at his face, Ethan," said Sofia, her words broken by pleasure, "look how I enjoy what you never gave me."

The scene intensified; Sofia, with a skill that only centuries of experience could bestow, guided each man, teaching them how to move to maximize her pleasure. One of them, with a deep groan, reached climax, and Sofia, with a perverse and triumphant smile, received it with an eagerness that spoke of her insatiable nature.

"Don't stop," she commanded, her voice laden with a desire that seemed endless. "I want more, I want to feel it all."

Another man took his place, then another, and another, each offering their surrender to Sofia, who absorbed each of these moments with a voracity that was almost terrifying. The room was filled with the sounds of passion, each sigh and moan building a symphony of lust and vengeance.

Ethan, with his mind and soul tortured, could not look away. Each passing second was a reminder of his own weakness and the magnitude of Sofia's power. He was a forced spectator of a ritual where every act of pleasure from his wife was a direct blow to his ego, his masculinity, his love.

And as the night progressed, Sofia, with a look that promised more pleasure and more torment, whispered words that only Ethan could understand: "This is just the beginning, my love. I will show you what desire really is."

The perverse dance continued, and Ethan knew that each moment passing brought him closer to an abyss of despair, where his wife's pleasure was his worst nightmare.

Dawn began to tint the sky with its first flickers of light, but in the room, night still reigned, wrapped in a cloak of lust and vengeance. Sofia, sated yet still insatiable, rose from the sofa, her body a tapestry of pleasure and power. She approached Ethan, her figure a blend of beauty and cruelty under the dim light.

"It's been a memorable night, hasn't it, Ethan?" she said, her voice soft but with an edge of steel. "But you, my dear, will remember none of this."

With a smile that promised both oblivion and forgiveness, Sofia took the voodoo doll she had used to bind Ethan to his chair, and with precise movements, began an ancient ritual. Murmuring words in a language forgotten by time, she broke the spell that kept Ethan immobile.

"Sleep now," she ordered, her voice like a hypnotic whisper, "and dream of what you think you've lived."

Ethan, freed but still under her influence, fell into a deep sleep, his mind already beginning to erase the memories of the night. Sofia, watching her husband sink into oblivion, felt a twinge of pity, but revenge had been sweet.

When Ethan awoke, the sun was high, and the memory of the previous night was blurry, like a strange, distant dream. He got up, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of having experienced something intense, but unable to grasp the details.

However, upon looking at his hands, he noticed marks from bindings, red and visible, tangible evidence that something had happened. Confused, he headed towards Sofia's study, following an impulse he didn't understand.

Upon opening the door, he was met with a sight that filled him with silent terror: hundreds of voodoo dolls, each grotesque and unique, filled the room. Each seemed to watch him with empty eyes, silent witnesses to the nights that had passed in that same place.

"Sofia?" he called out, his voice trembling, but there was no answer. The room, with its dolls, seemed to hold the echo of moans and whispers from the night before, a silent symphony of pleasure and pain.

Ethan approached one of the dolls, noting that each had something distinctive, as if they were trophies of the souls Sofia had touched, the desires she had fulfilled, and the vengeances she had executed. His mind, though unable to remember, felt the truth of what he had witnessed, the weight of betrayal and retribution.

"This can't be real," he told himself, but the marks on his hands and the multitude of dolls screamed otherwise.

Sofia entered at that moment, her face as beautiful as ever, but with a gleam in her eyes that spoke of dark secrets. "Good morning, Ethan," she greeted, her tone kind, as if nothing had happened. "Did you sleep well?"

Ethan, with his mouth dry and his mind full of questions, could only nod, though fear and confusion were reflected in his eyes. "Yes, but... what is all this?"

"Just my dolls," Sofia responded with an enigmatic smile, "my stories, my memories. Don't worry."

But Ethan knew, deep down, that it had not been just a dream. The marks on his hands and the feeling of having lost something significant would haunt him. Sofia had erased the memory of her revenge, but not the impact of her power, nor the lesson about fidelity and betrayal she had etched into his soul.

And so, in that study filled with voodoo dolls, Ethan understood that some nights are not forgotten, even if the mind tries.

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