The stone chamber reeked of sweat, seed, and sin.

Viktor’s hips never broke their brutal, metronomic rhythm against Riahana’s obliterated ass.

Her brown, stretched ring clung to his cock like a desperate, filthy kiss every time he pulled back — the taut rim dragging outward, refusing to release him, foam-slicked and trembling.

Then he switched.

One smooth, predatory shift.

He hauled Riahana up by her thick waist, her heavy tits swinging wide and slapping her ribs as her body left the floor like a ragdoll.

He dropped her onto the edge of the bed.

She landed stomach-down across the rotting mattress frame, her plump, dimpled ass jutting over the edge at the perfect angle — quivering, still gaping, still leaking a ring of white cream around her stretched rim.

He turned.

The old woman was still on her knees.

Still shaking.

Her gray-wisp pubic hair visible beneath the hem of her hiked, ruined skirts.

Her bony thighs pressed together.

Her ancient, wrinkled asshole still pulsing from the tail’s brutal intrusion — the pale-gray rim a swollen, trembling pucker against her sunken, loose cheeks.

Viktor grabbed the back of her thin neck.

Not violent. Not gentle.

He walked her backward.

Her papery heels dragged against the stone as he positioned her at the very edge of the bed beside Riahana, bent her frail spine forward with one enormous palm, and slapped his thick, foam-slicked cockhead directly against her ancient, never-used asshole.

"Y— you cannot possibly— I am sixty-seven— I am not— that hole has never—"

He pushed.

PHAAACK!!

"HAAAAIIIEEKK~♡♡~!! GODS— GODS— AAANGHH~♡~!! IT— IT WON’T—♡♡~!!"

Her frail voice cracked completely.

Her dentures nearly rattled loose from her gums.

Her sagging, flat-chested torso collapsed against the mattress edge.

Her liver-spotted, bony knuckles turned bone-white as they seized the rotting wooden frame.

Her legs — thin as sticks, quivering like reeds — barely held her upright.

Her ancient sphincter stretched around his girth in a slow, agonizing bloom of pale-gray tissue.

The ring went thin.

Transparent at the edges where the stress was greatest.

Her hollowed, wrinkled stomach contracted violently with each inch he fed inside her.

Her flat, elongated tits — soft as empty flour sacks — swung beneath her trembling chest.

The slack nipples, brown and long and pendulous, dragged across the rough mattress with each involuntary forward lurch.

Viktor stood behind her.

Fully upright.

Hips rolling forward in long, deliberate, unhurried strokes.

He wasn’t punishing her the way he’d destroyed Riahana.

He was taking her slowly.

Methodically.

Like savoring a vintage.

Her bowels had never known anything.

He felt every millimeter of resistance dissolve under pressure.

Her ancient walls moulded around him — reluctant, trembling, impossibly tight for a woman her age.

PAH. PAH.

"Oungh~♡~!! H-Hnngh— I can’t— I’m going to— my insides—♡~!!"

Her muffled sobs buried into the mattress.

Her knobby spine arched into a sharp, unnatural curve that her old bones clearly were not designed for.

She felt him rearranging her guts.

’He’s going to split me open’, she thought, and the horrifying part — the truly horrifying part — was that somewhere beneath the white-hot agony, her ancient, long-dormant body was betraying her entirely.

A thin trickle of slick ran down her inner thigh.

Not from her ass.

From the wrinkled, gray-haired lips of her cunt.

She pressed her face harder into the mattress to hide the shame.

The door breathed open.

No creak.

No knock.

Just the soft rush of cooler night air rolling across the sweat-choked chamber.

Rihanna stepped inside first.

Her silk robe hung half-open.

Her heavy, round tits swayed loosely with each step, the dark, wide nipples already stiff and jutting — tightened by the chill and by the obscene scene hammering her senses.

The Eliantra followed a half-step behind.

Her corset had been loosened.

The laces dangled across her flat, toned abdomen.

Her full, pale breasts spilled over the collapsed cups — the pink nipples perked hard, the areolas crinkled and flushed.

Both women stopped.

Both stared.

The Eliantra’s lips parted.

Her eyes dragged slowly from the old woman bent and sobbing at the bed’s edge — Viktor’s cock buried to the root inside her sagging, gray-puckered asshole — up the mountainous, glistening terrain of Viktor’s body to his face.

"...Viktor."

Her voice was barely above a breath.

Rihanna said nothing.

Her thighs pressed together.

A thin shine already catching the low candlelight between them.

They moved toward him.

Not desperate.

Not frantic.

Deliberate.

Like predators circling their own destruction and choosing it anyway.

They pressed in from both sides.

The Eliantra on his left.

Rihanna on his right.

Their soft, warm bodies collided into his flanks simultaneously.

The Eliantra’s full tits mashed flat against his ribs.

Her stiff pink nipple dragged a wet line across his damp skin as her arms wrapped around his broad torso.

Rihanna’s heavy, swinging boobs slammed into his right side.

Her dark nipples smeared against him, leaking a faint trace of milk against his hot flank.

Both women trembled.

Their knees knocked together at his sides.

Their thighs shook visibly — not from cold.

"Victor—" the Eliantra whispered against his jaw.

"Master—" Rihanna breathed against his neck.

His hips kept moving.

Slow.

Deep.

The old woman at the bed’s edge let out a broken, rattling "Ohhhh~♡~!!" with every deliberate push.

Viktor’s hands dropped.

Both palms landed on the Eliantra and Rihanna’s asses simultaneously.

His calloused, enormous hands covered each cheek entirely — fingers digging into the soft, yielding flesh, squeezing until both women gasped and their toes left the stone floor.

He lifted them.

Both.

One in each hand.

Their bodies swung upward, their thighs instinctively scissoring around his hips for balance.

Their boots — knee-high, laced leather — dangled at his eye level as their legs kicked upward with the lift.

Both women reached down in the same instant.

Their hands found their own boot soles.

Fingers curling around the leather heels.

They pulled their own legs up — folding themselves, holding their boots up like offerings, spreading themselves wide open while clinging to him.

Victor looked at them.

Looked at the boot Rihanna held trembling at his shoulder height.

He lowered his head.

His mouth closed over her ankle, above the boot’s edge.

His tongue dragged a wet, hot stripe across her skin.

Rihanna’s fingers tightened around her heel.

"M-Master— don’t— I can’t hold— Hngh~♡~!!"

He switched.

His mouth found the Eliantra’s boot.

His lips pressed against the inside of her knee above the leather cuff.

"Victor—" Her voice dissolved into a hitched, helpless sound.

PAH. PAH. PAAAH!!

"AAANGHH~♡♡~!! HN— HNNGH— OHHGODS~♡~!!"

The old woman beneath him came undone.

Her bony spine bowed violently.

Her fatty hips stuttered backward against him in a rhythm she had no control over.

Her ancient, gray-haired cunt clenched and unclenched.

Slick ran freely down her inner thighs.

Her flat, pendulous tits slapped the mattress edge with every thrust.

Viktor sucked Rihanna’s ankle.

Licked the Eliantra’s calf.

Alternated.

Back and forth.

While holding both women suspended in the air.

While fucking the old woman’s bowels apart standing upright.

His tail moved independently.

The spade tip slithered between Rihanna’s thighs first.

The vibrating tip pressed flat against her soaked, hairy cunt lips.

It didn’t enter.

It just vibrated.

"MASTER— PLEASE— PUT IT— HNGH~♡♡~!!"

Then the tail slid across and pressed against the Eliantra’s smooth, bare pussy.

The slick lips parted slightly around the buzzing flat of the spade.

"Victor— oh— oh gods— Victor—♡~!!"