Mira's back hit the wall, eyes wide, pupils blown.

Her knees had buckled.

Just... buckled.

One moment she'd been standing, hand working frantically between her thighs, watching Viktor pound into Helena like an animal—and the next, her legs had given out completely. She'd slid down the wall, ass hitting the floor with that loud, damning 'thud'.

And she'd cum.

Hard.

Her body had betrayed her, orgasm ripping through her without permission, without warning. Her thighs were soaked, her old dress clinging to her skin, and she could feel it—the wetness, the shame, the fucking 'need' that had torn through her just from watching.

'No... no no no...'

Her mind scrambled, panic flooding her veins.

She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape.

Her chest heaved, breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

She could still see it burned into her vision—Helena's massive ass rippling with each brutal thrust, Viktor's thick cock disappearing into her over and over, that obscene 'pah pah pah' echoing in the hall.

And she'd gotten off to it.

Not just watched. Not just been curious.

She'd touched herself. Rubbed herself raw. And came so hard her legs had stopped working.

'What... what is wrong with me?'

Mira's hands shook as she stared down at her own body. Her nipples were still hard, poking through the worn fabric of her dress. Her thighs were slick, inner legs glistening in the moonlight. Even now, even terrified of being caught, her pussy throbbed with residual heat.

She'd always thought she wanted... gentle. Sweet. The way Toby's father had been with her in the beginning—soft touches, whispered words, slow and careful.

But watching Viktor rail Helena like that?

Rough. Brutal. Claiming.

Her body had responded like it had been starving for it her whole life.

'I... I liked it.'

The realization crashed over her, shame and arousal tangled so tight she couldn't separate them. She liked watching Helena get fucked like a whore. Liked seeing that prim, judgmental woman reduced to a moaning, dripping mess. Liked the way Viktor's hands had grabbed and spread and 'owned' her.

And worse—'worse'—she wanted it for herself.

Her body was still trembling, her cunt still clenching around nothing, wanting to be filled, wanting to be 'used' like that.

'I have to get out of here.'

Panic surged. If Viktor found her here, sprawled on the floor with her dress hiked up and her thighs wet, he'd know. He'd 'know' what she'd been doing.

Mira scrambled onto her hands and knees, her legs too weak to stand yet. She had to move. Had to get back to her room before—

Her breath caught.

The wooden dildo.

It had fallen from her hand when she'd cum, rolling a few feet away. It lay there on the floor, pale and worn smooth from years of use, gleaming slightly in the moonlight.

'Oh gods...'

If he saw that—

She started crawling, moving on all fours like some desperate animal. Her thick ass swayed with each movement, her dress riding up over the curve of her hips. The fabric was damp, clinging to the crack of her ass where her arousal had soaked through.

'''

Viktor stood in the doorway to the hall, still naked, his cock hanging heavy and slick between his thighs.

And he watched her crawl.

'Well, well.'

His eyes tracked the sway of her hips, the way her ass filled out that threadbare dress. The fabric was 'wet'—not just damp, but soaked through, clinging to the deep crease between her cheeks. He could see the outline of everything, the way her thick ass moved with each desperate shuffle forward.

She looked... fuck, she looked good like that.

On her hands and knees, scrambling away, trying so hard to be quiet. Her bare legs pale in the moonlight, her breath coming in quick, panicked gasps.

His gaze drifted to where she'd been sitting.

There.

Right there on the floor.

A wooden dildo, worn smooth, the wood darkened from use.

Viktor's lips curled into a slow, lazy smirk.

'So that's what you were doing, Mira.'

He shook his head, the smirk widening.

She hadn't just been watching. She'd been getting off. Probably had that thing buried inside herself while she watched him fuck Helena, working it in and out, desperate and quiet.

And then she'd cum so hard she'd dropped it.

His cock twitched, still half-hard from finishing inside Helena. The sight of Mira crawling away, her ass swaying, her body still trembling—it stirred something in him.

But then, for just a moment, his expression shifted.

'Am I... using her?'

The thought crept in, unwanted.

She was a widow. A mother. She'd lost everything—her husband, her home, nearly her life. And here he was, planning to fuck her, to make her his, to 'claim' her like he'd claimed Helena.

Was that wrong?

Was he just being selfish? Taking advantage of a desperate woman who had nowhere else to go?

His eyes flicked back to her. She'd moved a few more steps, still on her hands and knees, her thick ass still swaying.

And then he saw it again—the wet fabric clinging to her, the way her thighs were slick, the way her whole body trembled not just with fear but with 'need'.

She'd been 'aroused'. Not forced. Not faking.

She'd watched him fuck Helena and gotten so turned on she'd cum hard enough to collapse.

'She wants it.'

The guilt flickered, then faded.

She wanted rough. She wanted to be claimed. Her body had told him everything he needed to know.

But still...

'Is this good for me? Treating her like this?'

He wasn't sure. Part of him—a small, nagging part—wondered if he should slow down. Be gentler. Give her time.

But then he looked at her again.

And he moved.

'''

Mira had just reached for the dildo, her fingers brushing the smooth wood, when she heard it.

Footsteps.

Her entire body went rigid, breath catching in her throat.

'No... please no...'

She didn't dare look back. She just grabbed the dildo and tried to scramble forward faster, still on her hands and knees, trying to make it to the corner, to anywhere she could—

Four steps.

She'd only made it four more steps when his shadow fell over her.

Her bare legs froze mid-crawl. Her breath stopped completely.

Slowly—'so slowly'—she lifted her head.

And her eyes landed on his cock.

Limp. Thick. Hanging right in front of her face, close enough that she could see every detail—the veins still bulging along the shaft, the glistening coat of cum and Helena's juices still slicking the skin, a thin stream of precum dripping from the tip in a slow, viscous thread.

Her mouth fell open.

A scream built in her throat—

And then Viktor moved.

He dropped down, one hand shooting out to cover her mouth, his body falling forward over hers.

"Stop," he hissed, his voice low and rough against her ear. "Toby will wake up."

Mira's scream died behind his palm, muffled into nothing. Her eyes went wide, tears already forming as she stared up at him.

He was 'so close'.

His face right above hers, his body pressed against hers, his hand firm over her mouth. She could feel his breath on her skin, warm and heavy. His cock, still slick and half-hard, pressed against her stomach through the thin fabric of her dress.

Her heart hammered so hard she thought it might burst.

And then their eyes met.

His were dark. Amused. Predatory.

Hers were wide, wet with unshed tears, filled with shock and shame and something else she couldn't name.

She felt the tears spill over, trailing down her temples into her hair.

And Viktor... chuckled.

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