One moment she was being kissed.

The next, she was ’airborne’ — briefly, just a pivot and a guide — and then she was on her back, the heat of Rihana’s thick, soft body beneath her, the bred woman’s enormous breasts pressing warm against Gwen’s shoulder blades.

Rihana’s arms came around her immediately. Instinct. The broad, soft arms of a woman built for holding things, wrapping around the smaller girl from below.

Viktor was between her knees before she finished registering horizontal.

His cock.

She looked down.

Nine inches of fully hard, dark-flushed, crimson-headed ’problem,’ still glistening, pointed directly at her.

"Happy virginity loss day, Gwen," he said.

His voice was warm. Almost fond.

He ’smacked’ his cock against her covered mound. Once. The impact traveled through fabric straight to the swollen, terrified, pulsing flesh beneath.

She gasped.

He pulled her panties aside.

The first three inches went in.

The hymen ’broke.’

Gwen screamed.

Not a moan. Not a cry. A ’scream’ — high, sharp, the sound of something tearing that had never been touched — and her whole body jackknifed upward, spine arching completely off Rihana’s chest below her, hands scrambling for purchase against anything.

Rihana caught her face.

Both hands. Cupping Gwen’s flushed, tear-streaked, screaming face from below and pulling it down — not roughly, with the urgent practicality of a woman acting on memory.

"Stop." Rihana’s voice was hoarse, strained, her Siren tone cracked and worn thin but landing anyway. "Don’t scream."

Gwen’s mouth was still open.

"’Listen to me.’" Rihana pulled her face lower. "The more you scream." Her eyes — serious, soft, completely earnest — met Gwen’s wide, streaming ones. "The more brutal he gets."

A beat.

Her hand guided Gwen’s head the final inch downward.

"Bite."

Gwen’s open mouth closed around Rihana’s nipple.

The scream that had been building in Gwen’s chest hit the nipple and got muffled into the thick, warm flesh of Rihana’s breast.

What came out instead was a wet, desperate, bitten ’sob.’

And Rihana ’cried’ from the nipple bite — her own body still raw and oversensitive, the fresh milk already beginning to leak from the pressure of Gwen’s teeth — her tears running sideways down her face as she held the elf girl’s head against her chest with both hands and simply ’endured.’

Two women crying.

One from three inches of cock and a torn hymen.

One from being bitten on an already-destroyed nipple.

Viktor, between Gwen’s thighs, looked down at the sight of them — the thin blood tracking down his shaft from where her virginity used to be, Gwen’s slim body trembling on top of Rihana’s thick one, the two women holding each other in the specific, desperate solidarity of shared destruction — and his cock pulsed.

"’Sit,’" he said, the word soft and appreciative.

He exhaled.

"’That’s’ some tightness."

Lira was still kneeling behind him.

She’d been watching. Everything. The smack of his cock against Gwen’s pussy, the three-inch entry, the tear, the scream, the nipple-muffling, the blood currently dripping slowly from the point where his cock met Gwen’s stretched, weeping entrance.

"What are you ’doing?!’" Lira’s voice cracked. "She’s ’bleeding—’ you can’t just—"

Viktor reached back.

Found her hair without looking.

She cried out — "’What—’" — and he guided her downward.

Past the side of his thigh.

Past the curve of his ass.

Down further.

Until she was between his legs from behind, her face level with the back of his thighs, looking up at his heavy, swaying balls, and below them — Gwen’s blood, thin and bright, running in a slow thread down the underside of his cock and collecting at the base, dripping in slow drops from the seam of his balls onto the mat and — onto Lira’s upturned forehead.

Her eyes rolled.

Not from pleasure. From the specific, overwhelming ’fact’ of where she was.

"Make sure you suck it," Viktor said, from somewhere above her.

He slammed Gwen.

Not hard. Not the way he’d slammed Rihana.

’Slowly.’ Which was worse. A long, grinding forward pressure — the three inches becoming four, then five, the walls of Gwen’s untouched pussy spreading incrementally around a girth they’d never prepared for — and Gwen’s muffled sob into Rihana’s breast became a muffled ’scream’ became the sound of someone pressing their teeth as deep as possible into the safest thing they could reach.

Rihana gasped. Her hands tightened on Gwen’s head.

Both women crying again, layered on top of each other.

Viktor’s balls swayed forward with the slow thrust.

They landed on Lira’s face.

She made a sound.

He pressed his thighs slightly closer together.

Both heavy, full balls settling over her nose and mouth with a warmth and weight that her face had no prepared response for, her breath cut short, her hands coming up to push — and then his thumb found the front of her pants.

The inside of her waistband.

Past it.

He didn’t remove anything. Just reached down — cock still buried in the slow press into Gwen, balls resting over Lira’s face, thumb sliding past fabric — and found the waistband of her panties and ’pushed past it.’

Found her clit through wet fabric.

’Pinched.’

Lira’s mouth opened from the shock of it — the involuntary ’GASP’ that her body produced without consulting her — and his balls dropped into her open mouth.

She sucked them.

She absolutely did not decide to. Her mouth simply had his balls in it and her tongue was already moving and she was staring up at the back of him with her eyes doing something that wasn’t expressible in words.

His thumb rubbed her clit in slow circles, pressing through the damp fabric, and her hips rolled forward against it and she sucked harder and her eyes went somewhere private and she hated every second of how much she didn’t hate it.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"NNGGHH~!! HHHNMM~!! M-MASTERRR~!!!"

Gwen’s muffled cries had taken on a rhythm — bitten deep into Rihana’s breast, each thrust drawing a fresh, wet sob that vibrated against the nipple, Rihana flinching each time but holding her there, holding her ’close’, her thick legs coming up to bracket Gwen’s smaller body from below.

Viktor’s free hand came down.

Found Gwen’s navel.

His thumb pressed in, slow circles, following the line of her belly downward to where his cock was stretching her open — feeling the tight ring of her from the outside, the obscene fullness of the stretch — and his other hand was still working Lira’s clit from above.

Three women.

All producing sound.

All at different registers.

Gwen, muffled and wet, tears and saliva soaking into Rihana’s breast.

Rihana, crying quietly from the nipple, from the weight, from the particular exhausted devotion of a woman being used as a comfort object for someone else’s suffering.

And Lira — ’Lira’, the bandit captain, her face buried between his thighs, his balls in her mouth, his thumb on her clit — making small, involuntary sounds that had no shape and no dignity and no precedent in her previous thirty years of life.

Viktor breathed out through his nose.

Long. Satisfied.

He looked at the ceiling of the hut. At the rough wooden beams catching firelight.

He looked at his hands — one buried in Gwen’s belly, one down Lira’s waistband.

He felt Gwen’s walls trembling around his half-buried cock. Felt Lira’s hips chasing his thumb. Felt Rihana’s exhausted warmth below him, still giving, still holding.

"’Ah, shit.’" The words came out slow. Genuine.

His hips began to move.

Steady now. Finding a rhythm.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

Gwen’s muffled cry climbed.

Rihana’s tears ran sideways.

Lira sucked harder.

"’This,’" Viktor said, to no one and everyone, his voice low and rough and completely certain — "’this is what it feels like to actually fuck.’"

PAH! PAH!

"NNNGHH~MM~!! HIIEEKK~MM~!!!"

"Ahn~— ’bite softer—’ AAHHNN~—"

"’Hnm— hnm— hnm—’"