Dramatically. Each bounce sent them arcing forward, the full weight of them swinging up toward her chin and back down, nipples hard and leaking, the milk spraying forward in thin arcs that caught the firelight and fell across the mat, across Gwen’s legs, across Rihana’s knees.

Warm. Landing on skin. Running in thin rivulets.

’[System Notification]’

’Subject: Lira — Bandit Bloodline’

’Lactation Initiated: Breeding bond response’

’Conception: Confirmed’

Gwen watched.

Her hand moved to her own breast. Not deliberately. Just — moved there, her palm pressing against the sore, swollen weight of it, feeling the milk still leaking from the nipple against her fingers.

She watched Lira’s hips.

The ’clap’ of them on his thighs. The specific, gorgeous obscenity of his cock disappearing into her anal on every drop, the ring of her stretching and then releasing, the slick shine of her coating him.

Gwen’s other hand moved between her own legs.

She was masturbating before she’d fully registered she was doing it — fingers pressing against her swollen, stuffed, ’still-leaking’ pussy, rubbing in slow circles, her hips rolling up against her own hand with the involuntary urgency of a body that had been reconditioned in one night to need this constantly.

She didn’t stop.

She watched Lira bounce and she touched herself and her milk leaked through her fingers and she didn’t stop.

Lira’s eyes — mid-bounce, head tipping back, nipples spraying — came down and found Rihana.

The thick woman was sitting to the side, one hand at her own nipple, pinching it slow, watching.

Their eyes met.

Lira’s face did something complicated and extremely fast — a sequence of reactions that crossed through ’caught’ and ’humiliated’ and ’I am the leader of a bandit camp’ and arrived at a reflexive, desperate thing she covered by ’closing her eyes’ and ’biting her lip’ and letting the bounce do what the bounce was doing.

Which didn’t work.

Because she could still feel Rihana watching.

PAH! PAH!

"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! OUNGH~!!"

Rihana pinched her own nipple harder.

The milk ran down the back of her hand.

She watched Lira’s hips with the patient, warm, entirely satisfied expression of a woman who owns a front-row seat and knows it.

"When is my number?"

She said it quietly. Almost to herself.

Viktor answered with his hips.

One forward surge — not upward, ’forward’ — driving with his full core strength, his hips leaving the mat entirely for half a second, and Lira went ’airborne.’

She yelped.

Her feet left the floor. His cock left her anal. His tail withdrew. For one suspended, weightless instant she was moving ’horizontally,’ her body swinging forward like a pendulum released —

And then she came down.

On both women.

All three of them hit the mat in a pile — Lira on top, her full weight landing across Gwen’s midsection, Gwen’s elbow catching Rihana’s ribs, all three coughing and crying and grasping at each other in the sudden, winded chaos of bodies colliding.

"OW—"

"WHAT—"

"WHO IS THAT—"

The heap sorted itself into three separate women gasping on the mat.

Viktor stood.

Looked at them.

Three women. Three pairs of wide, upturned eyes.

He lowered himself over them.

His weight came down — not crushing, the distribution of his body across all three, his hands finding the familiar landmarks of their chests — and all three exhaled simultaneously from the impact.

He settled.

Rolled sideways.

Pulled them with him.

All three women against his body — Rihana behind him, her breasts pressing into his back, Lira at his front, his cock pressed against her thigh, Gwen against Lira, the elf girl’s slim body sandwiched between the bandit captain’s back and the warm hut wall.

He looked at the ceiling.

"Scissors."

Both Gwen and Lira turned to look at him.

"What?" — Lira.

"What does that—" — Gwen.

"Let me see what stunts you can pull off."

They looked at each other.

The look had the quality of two people who have just been assigned a group project they don’t understand and are too exhausted to ask for clarification.

Then Lira moved.

She sat up. Threw her leg over him. Gwen followed — slower, more uncertain — mirroring the position on the other side, both women straddling his lap from opposite angles, their thighs interlocked in the spread scissors of their legs, both their pussies — swollen and seed-soaked and ’still leaking’ — positioned against either side of his shaft.

It pressed between them.

Warm. Hard. The ridge of it against both their wet lips simultaneously, neither fully inside either of them, just ’between’ — trapped in the hot, slick groove of two pussies pressed together against a single cock.

"Strange," Gwen said, faintly.

Her hips moved.

The motion dragged her against him and against Lira simultaneously — her pussy lips spreading across the side of his shaft, the friction landing in two directions at once, Lira’s warmth against her from the front where their bodies met.

Lira moved.

The opposite direction. The counter-drag.

Both women gasped.

"H-Hn~—" — Gwen.

"Mm~—" — Lira, through her teeth.

Then his tail.

It came up between them from below — finding the gap between both their bodies where they joined — and entered.

Not one of them.

’Both.’ The ridged length threading between them, pressing against both entrances simultaneously, the tip finding Gwen’s pussy and the mid-section pressing against Lira’s, and when it ’pushed—’

"AAANGHH~!!" — Gwen.

"HIIEEK~!!" — Lira.

It tied them together.

The tail, fully extended and vibrating, connected both women to each other through the shared intrusion — every movement Gwen made pulling Lira with her, every shift of Lira’s hips transmitting through the tail to Gwen — and his cock between them, dragging against both at once with every micro-movement their interlocked bodies made.

They started to move.

PAH! PAH!

"OUNGH~!! AAAHH~!!" — both, tangled.

Not coordinated. Not practiced. Just — moving, their hips finding the instinctive rock and grind of two bodies trying to get what they needed from a single source, their pussies dragging against his shaft in alternating strokes, the tail vibrating between them, one entering Gwen on Lira’s upstroke, finding Lira on Gwen’s — the mechanics of it accidental and ’exactly right.’

His cock found Gwen’s entrance on the angle shift.

Three inches. Without warning.

"AAANGHH~!! N-NOT INSIDE—!! HNGH~!!"

Lira’s hips drove down on her next motion.

Found his cock from her side.

Two inches. Her own pussy taking the entry she hadn’t aimed for with the helpless clench of something that had been wanting this since the moment the tail tied her to the situation.

"OUNGHH~!! H-HOW—!! AAAHH~!!"

Both of them. On the same cock. Alternating entries, the angle shifting with each roll of their scissored hips, one taking three inches while the other ground against the shaft, swapping on the next stroke — the cock moving between two pussies with the slick, wet efficiency of a body that had been ’engineered’ for exactly this kind of usage.

And Rihana watched.

She’d positioned herself above his face.

Both knees on the mat on either side of his head, her thick body blocking the firelight from above, her heavy breasts swaying down toward his mouth — both nipples streaming, the thin white lines running down the undersides of her breasts and dripping from the tips in a continuous, warm rain.

She looked down at him.

He looked up at her.

"Please," she said. Her Siren voice cracked and rebuilt around the single word, carrying everything six hours had made of her in the resonance of it. "Drink it, master."