On the bed—the large, renovated bed that Helena and Mira had clearly worked to restore—sat two mountain-like figures covered by pristine white sheets.

Kaida blinked.

The shapes were identical. Same size. Same height. Both perfectly still, but with subtle movements beneath the fabric—breathing, shifting slightly, definitely alive.

"Where is sister?" Kaida's voice came out confused, her brain still rebooting from the previous emotional assault.

Her question was immediately answered—or rather, interrupted.

Viktor's shirt hit the floor with a soft thud.

Kaida's head snapped toward him. "Hey, don't pull the chain—"

But he wasn't pulling. He was just... continuing to undress. His hands moved to his belt, fingers working the buckle with practiced ease. The leather slid free with a whisper of sound that seemed deafening in the quiet room.

"What the hell are you doing, you bastard?!" Kaida hissed, her face flooding with color again.

Viktor paused, glancing at her with those dark eyes that held far too much amusement. He didn't answer. Just let his fingers trail down to the button of his pants.

Pop.

The sound was obscene in its simplicity.

His pants loosened, starting to slide down his hips. The fabric caught on the curve of his ass for a moment before gravity took over.

Kaida's hand shot up to cover her face—or tried to. The chain yanked her wrist, keeping her arm partially trapped. She settled for pressing her free hand over her eyes, fingers splayed just enough to block her view.

Or so she told herself.

"Why are you embarrassed?" Viktor's voice carried that infuriating teasing edge. "You already saw me doing it."

"That was inevitable!" Kaida's voice came out muffled behind her palm, higher-pitched than usual. "Not this! This is—you're undressing yourself on purpose! In front of—"

"Of course I am." His pants hit the floor, pooling around his ankles before he kicked them aside. "After all, how can I not eat such thick gifts?"

Kaida's fingers spread slightly wider, revealing one red eye peeking through the gaps. "Eat... what...?"

Viktor's answer came in action, not words.

His fingers—both hands now, since the chain forced Kaida to move with him—curled around the edges of the white sheets. The fabric was smooth, expensive, clearly not original to this decrepit manor.

He smiled. That dangerous, hungry smile that made something in Kaida's stomach twist.

And pulled.

Slowly.

Agonizingly slowly.

The sheets began to lift, revealing... feet first.

Milky white feet, delicate and small, toes curling slightly in the cool air. The nails were trimmed and clean—Helena's work, probably, always meticulous about presentation.

Higher.

Ankles. Slender and feminine, the bones delicate beneath pale skin that seemed to glow in the candlelight.

Higher still.

Calves. Shapely and soft, with just enough muscle definition to show these were women who worked, who moved, who lived—not idle nobles who lounged all day.

Kaida's hand lowered fractionally. Her eye widened, pupil dilating as more skin was revealed.

Thighs.

Thick. Full. The kind of thighs that could crush a man's head—or cradle it tenderly. They pressed together slightly, creating a valley of soft flesh that gleamed with a faint sheen of perspiration.

Or was that something else?

Higher.

The gap between their thighs became visible. And there, glistening in the low light, clear evidence of arousal. Both women were wet—not just damp, but thoroughly, obviously, dripping wet.

Their pussies came into view, and Kaida's breath caught.

One had a small mole just above the labia—Mira's, she realized with a jolt. The mark was distinctive, dark against pale skin, positioned right at the apex of her thigh where it met her groin.

The other had thick labia, plump and full, the outer lips slightly parted to reveal pink inner folds that gleamed with moisture. Helena's, unmistakably, the anatomy distinctly different from her sister's.

Both sets of lips were swollen, engorged with blood, clearly aroused and ready.

And behind them, partially visible in the position they were in—

Ass cracks. Deep valleys between full, rounded cheeks. And within those valleys, puckered holes. Pink and brown—one clearly more used, more relaxed (but clearly showing signs of twitch and clench), the other tighter, more hesitant.

The sheets continued their upward journey.

Hips. Wide. Childbearing. The kind of hips that screamed fertility, that made a man's instincts roar with the need to breed them all night.

Both women had that maternal curve—that impossible ratio of waist to hip that nature designed specifically to drive men insane.

Kaida's hand fell away from her face completely.

Her mouth hung open, her red eyes reflecting the scene before her like twin mirrors.

Her pupils consumed most of her irises, blown wide with shock and something else—something she absolutely refused to name.

"Please... not more than that, husband."

Both voices came at once as delicate fingers grabbed Viktor's hand from sliding the sheet more and revealing their upper bodies lying flat on the bed, supported by their massive tits overflowing on either side.

'!'

They were awake.

They'd been awake the entire time.

Waiting.

"Sigh... How much more will I be made to fall for... hm?" Viktor's smile widened. His fingers trailed along the curve of Helena's thigh, then Mira's, feeling the softness, the warmth, the slight tremor that ran through both women at his touch.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as his cock swung against his underwear, tightly forming a bulge.

And Kaida—

Kaida stood frozen, the purple chain connecting her wrist to Viktor's, her red eyes locked on the scene before her.

Her mouth moved, forming words that came out barely above a whisper. The sound was strangled, mortified, colored with disbelief and a horrified recognition that made her want to die of embarrassment.

"S-Sister Mira... Y-You—? What are you doing?!"

Kaida moved before her brain caught up.

Her free hand shot out—the one not chained to Viktor—and grabbed the first woman her fingers could reach. Soft flesh, warm skin, and then—

The woman sat up with a gasp.

Brown hair tied in a bun swung loose, strands falling across flushed cheeks. Her massive tits—heavy, thick, impossibly large—jiggled with the sudden movement, bouncing against each other with a soft slap of flesh on flesh. The nipples were dark, erect, pointing upward despite the sag of gravity pulling at the sheer weight.

Helena.

Her warm brown eyes widened as they locked onto the red-haired young woman gripping her wrist. Recognition flickered, then confusion, then something close to panic.

"Wait—I'm sorry—I was—" Kaida's words tumbled out in a rush, her face flushing crimson as she released Helena's wrist like it had burned her.

But her eyes—her traitorous red eyes—couldn't look away from the sheer size of those breasts. They were seamless, overflowing, the kind of heavy udders that made her own chest feel inadequate by comparison.

Before Kaida could stammer another apology, movement from the bed drew her attention.

Mira lifted her head slowly, her dark hair falling around her face in messy waves. Her green eyes—sharp, calculating, utterly unapologetic—fixed on Kaida with an expression that made the knight's stomach drop.

"You just spoiled our gifts to my husband."

The words hit like a slap.

Kaida's mouth fell open. Her face flushed deeper, the color spreading down her neck to her bare shoulders. "These are gifts?!" Her voice cracked, pitched higher than intended. "What are you doing?! Can't you see I'm here too?!"

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