He pressed harder.

His hips drove into Rihana’s ass below the stack at the same moment.

PAH!

Rihana: "’MMMPHHH~!!’" — face against the table.

PAH!

His fingers curled in Lira’s pussy.

Lira: "’HIEKK~!! AAANGHH~!!’" — directly into Gwen’s ear.

PAH! 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Back into Gwen.

Gwen: "’NNGGHH~MM~!!’" — muffled because her face had found Rihana’s hair and her mouth was pressed into it.

The squirting happened in sequence.

Lira first — his fingers found the exact wall and ’rubbed’, relentless, and her whole body went rigid on top of the stack, her thighs locking, her pussy flooding his hand and her own thighs and Gwen’s back below in a gush that soaked through everything and ran off the table edge in a thin stream.

"’AAAHHHHHH~!!! I’M—!! CUMM—!! AAANGHH~!!’"

Her body shook for five full seconds.

Rihana second.

She’d been climbing it quietly the entire time — the weight of two bodies over her, his cock in her ass, the table edge against her swinging breasts — and when she came she came ’silently,’ just the full-body clench of her thick thighs against the table, the deep, wet gush of her pussy flooding the table surface below her belly, her mouth pressed shut and her eyes rolled back.

Her Siren voice, when she let it out, was barely a whisper.

"’Ahn~...’"

Which somehow hit harder than the screaming.

Gwen last.

He’d been fucking her through both the others’ orgasms — using their clenching, shaking bodies as the backdrop, never stopping, his cock in her freshly-torn pussy grinding forward through her pain and her arousal and the purple air in her lungs — and when her orgasm arrived she had no defenses left to meet it with.

PAAAH!

"’AAAAHHHH~!!! MASTERRR~!!! I’M—!! IT’S—!! AAANGHH~!! HIEKK~!!’"

Her pointed ears went flat. Her hands clawed Rihana’s hair below her. Her slim hips bucked back onto his cock with the desperate, involuntary force of a body that had stopped asking permission and was simply ’taking’ — her virginal pussy, still bleeding slightly, still raw, still tight beyond what was fair — clenching around him and ’gushing.’

The squirt hit the table surface below the stack. Mixed with Rihana’s. Ran together.

Viktor fucked through all three orgasms.

Every clench. Every squirt. Every scream. Every broken, shaking, helpless female noise this hut contained.

He fucked through all of it.

For an hour.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"HNGH~!! OUNGHH~!! HIIEEK~!!!"

PAH! PAH!

"M-MASTERRR~!! TOO MUCH~!! AAANGHH~!!!"

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"N-NO MORE~!! I C-CAN’T~!! AAAHHHH~!!!"

His hips did not stop.

His cock did not soften.

The purple aura breathed slow and warm around all four of them, the evolution’s gift, the endless stamina, the breeding instinct that had eaten the concept of stopping and found it unsatisfying.

He pounded.

And pounded.

And the hut held all of it — the slapping, the screaming, the wet, relentless, overlapping sounds of three women being broken and rebuilt and broken again — the firelight throwing wild shadows off heaving breasts and shaking thighs and the steady, merciless rhythm of his hips.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"AAANGHH~!! HIEKK~!! OUNGHH~!!"

PAH! PAH!

"’MASTERRR~!!!! AAAHHHH~!!!’"

PAAAH!

"’HIIEEEKKK~!!!’"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Five hours.

The firelight had burned low twice and Rihana had crawled to feed it without being asked — both times, without stopping what she was doing with her mouth — and it had burned low again and nobody fed it this time because nobody had the functioning limbs.

The hut smelled like sex and purple and something older than both.

Gwen’s anal was tearing.

Not metaphorically. Not as hyperbole.

The actual, physical ring of it — spread past what her slim, newly-broken body had been built to accommodate, Viktor’s cock working in and out with the slow, deliberate grinding that was somehow more destructive than fast — was producing a sensation that had lapped pain twice, merged with something that wasn’t pleasure either, and arrived at a place she had no word for in any language she’d been taught.

Her face was flat against the mat.

Her hands were flat beside her face.

Her pointed ears were pressed so hard against her skull they’d gone pale.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"AAANGHH~!! N-NOT THERE~!! PLEASE~!! HIIEEK~!!!"

He pulled out.

The withdrawal left a gap that her body immediately and humiliatingly tried to close — the ring of her anal clenching on nothing, the ache of emptiness layered directly on top of the ache of use — and her whole body gave one long, involuntary shudder.

She pressed her face into the mat and breathed.

Two breaths.

That was all she got.

Lira was already crying.

She’d been crying for twenty minutes — not from pain exactly, not anymore, the pain had metabolized into something her body had stopped clearly distinguishing from the rest of what was happening to it — but from the specific, helpless overwhelm of a woman who has held a leadership position for seven years and cannot currently remember her own name.

She was on her hands and knees, holding her own ass with both hands.

Not in protection. In the aftermath of protection. Both cheeks cupped in her own palms, the gesture of someone trying to hold something together that keeps trying to fall apart.

Her pussy was leaking his seed in slow, thick threads down the inside of her thighs. Her anal — newly, brutally acquainted with his cock — was doing the same from behind.

Both holes. Filled. Trailing.

She stared at the mat directly below her face with the thousand-yard look of someone reviewing their life’s decisions.

Viktor looked between them.

Gwen. Lira. Side by side, both bent forward, both trembling.

His cock was still hard.

He considered them the way a craftsman considers a half-finished piece of work.

Then he grabbed both their wrists.

Side by side. He arranged them — Gwen’s slim hips against Lira’s wider ones, both bent over the low table, their legs pressed together at the inner thigh so their asses touched, both pairs of cheeks making contact in a soft, warm press of flesh that neither woman had the energy to object to.

He stepped behind them.

Looked at the combined target.

Two asses. Touching. Both holes each, four total, all trailing his seed, all in a row.

His cock found Lira’s anal entrance.

"WAIT—" Lira’s head came up. "NOT AGAIN~!! I CAN’T—"

PAH!

"AAANGHH~!!"

Three inches. His hips drove forward into Lira’s ass and simultaneously his hand slammed down on Gwen’s cheek — the palm crack landing on flesh already sensitized from hours of contact, drawing a yelp that Gwen muffled into the table edge.

Then he pulled back from Lira.

Found Gwen’s anal.

PAH!

"HIIEEK~!! N-NO~!! NOT THAT—!! AAAHH~!!"

Back to Lira.

PAH! PAH!

"OUNGHH~!! S-STOP SWITCHING~!! MASTERR~!! AAANGHH~!!"

He wasn’t switching to tease.

He was switching because he could. Because both their asses were ’his’ and the distinction between which one received his cock at any given moment was purely his to make and he made it constantly, unpredictably, his hips angling left to Lira’s tighter ring, then right to Gwen’s newly-broken one, driving into each with the full weight of his thrust before pulling back and choosing again.

Both women’s screams had synchronized into a continuous, overlapping wall of broken, desperate sound.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"HNGH~!! AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!!!"

PAH! PAH!

"M-MASTERRR~!! B-BOTH~!! AAAHH~!! TOO MUCH~!!!"

Rihana watched from behind him.

She’d been watching for several minutes, pressed against the wall with her thick arms crossed under her heavy breasts, her own two holes leaking twin rivers of his seed down her thighs in slow, warm trails that she’d stopped registering an hour ago.

Her body was glowing.