'What was I thinking... I was married—'

She could still feel the phantom sensation of his cock inside her, stretching her walls into a shape they'd never held before.

Her pussy was already starting to reshape itself to his length and girth, muscle memory forming around his thickness in ways her hands and dildo never could.

'My husband... his cock was so small... I thought that was normal... but THIS—'

Shame flooded through her, hot and urgent. She was a married woman, and here she was thinking about another man's cock constantly, unable to stop her pussy from clenching at the memory.

'He's my husband now... but...'

She pressed harder against his neck, sucking deeper, leaving darker marks. Each kiss was a prayer, a silent plea: 'will he want me again? Will he fuck me daily?'

Her hand underwater found his thigh, fingers tracing the muscle, imagining it was his cock hardening for her.

Helena watched for a beat, her lips trembling, before she mimicked the action on his other side.

Her inexperienced tongue was clumsy, a stark contrast to Mira's practiced worship, but the intent was clear.

Their massive breasts massaged his chest with their soft, heavy weight as they serviced him.

"Hnn... mmmph~" Helena whimpered softly, her tongue flicking tentatively.

Her mind was fractured, torn between duty and mortification.

'What have I done... what kind of woman acts like that... I raised him from childhood and now I—'

But then Mira pinched her arm underwater—a sharp, deliberate twist—and Helena's entire body went rigid.

Flashes erupted behind her eyelids: his thick cock buried deep, the way it stretched her beyond anything she'd ever experienced, the power in his thrusts, the precision of his fingers finding spots inside her she didn't know existed. Her nipples hardened involuntarily, pressing against his chest.

'No... stop thinking about it... but he's right here and his body is—'

She bit down softly on his collarbone, trying to focus on anything but the pulse of need building between her thighs. Her own hand trembled as she reached underwater, but she didn't dare touch herself—didn't dare give in like Mira was obviously about to do.

'A nanny shouldn't... I shouldn't have...'

Yet her pussy was leaking steadily into the pond water, betraying her shame-wracked thoughts.

As they worked, Viktor's mind drifted back to the skills he'd acquired. "Mira," he began, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through their chests. "You never told me. Where did a village woman like you learn to handle a sword and ride a horse?"

Mira's mouth detached from his neck with a wet "pop".

She looked up, her green eyes hazy. "Her name is Laila, Master," she replied, her voice soft. "She was the one who taught me sword and horse riding when she came back from her mercenary guild on vacation. She is the granddaughter of that old man whom you saved."

Viktor's interest piqued.

A female mercenary.

Another potential source of abilities. "How easy is it to get her?" he asked bluntly.

As he spoke, Mira's hand slipped underwater, her fingers finding his now-limp cock.

Her thumb brushed over the head, feeling it twitch in response, while her other hand gently cupped his balls.

Mira's thoughts became feverish.

'He's asking about another woman... but his cock is responding to MY touch... that means—'

"She hates noblemen, Master," Mira added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Fat, lazy men... so... um..."

She began stroking him slowly, deliberately, her fingers working with practiced precision. Her devotion crystallized in that moment: she would be the favorite. She would ensure it. Every woman who came after would pale compared to her service.

'I'll tell him everything... every weakness... everything to keep him interested in me... I'll mold myself to what he wants...'

Viktor let out a deep chuckle that shook all three of them. "So, technically everything about me," he said, laughing.

Mira giggled along, their easy rapport a sharp sting of jealousy in Helena's gut.

She watched them, her own tongue faltering on his skin, a cold knot forming in her stomach.

They were bonding too fast. ♡

Helena's mind spiraled.

'She's stealing him... they're laughing together... I raised him, and now she—'

When Mira pinched her arm again—this time harder—Helena's breath caught. Images flooded back: his hips slamming into her, his fingers curling inside her, reshaping her, breaking her in ways she couldn't articulate. Her entire body went hot, core clenching involuntarily.

'Stop...'

She bit his collarbone harder, drawing a bead of blood, trying to anchor herself to something other than the desperate need blooming in her core.

Mira, feeling his cock stir back to life under her touch, took the lead.

She shifted her weight, climbing from his thigh directly onto his lap, straddling him.

Her hands cupped his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks.

Then she leaned in and gave him a deep, wet French kiss.

Her tongue swirled with his, hot and demanding, saliva dripping from their lips with a slick "smack" as she finally pulled away, both of them gasping for air.

Mira's mind flooded with possessive triumph.

'Mine... this will be mine... his taste, his touch, his cock that reshapes me each time... I'll make sure no one else—'

She could feel his shaft hardening between them, pressing against her pussy, and she wanted to sink down onto it right here, right now, regardless of Helena's presence.

Across from them, Helena was visibly soaked, her own cunt leaking at the sight.

"Ohhh~... haa..." Mira moaned breathlessly, her lips glistening.

Helena's body betrayed her shame. Her pussy was throbbing, flooding the water around her thighs with fresh slick, and she couldn't stop it. She couldn't control the way her hips subtly ground against his leg, seeking friction.

'This is degrading... but I can't stop... when will he touch me again... will he forget about me now that she—'

"But," Mira whispered against his lips, her voice husky, "her pussy will taste much smoother, young and tighter than both of us." ♡

The words were a direct challenge, a seductive offering—and a knife twist aimed directly at Helena.

Helena felt the words like physical blows. Her face burned with renewed shame and jealousy.

'Tighter... younger... who?'

But then her eyes fell back to the water's surface, and she saw the ripples where his cock had been, where Mira was about to—

Viktor's cock hardened fully against Mira's belly. "Do you think she will like my cock?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Mira peppered his cheek with small, wet kisses, each one landing with a soft "mwah". "Not just like it, Master," she purred, her lips finding his again for a deep suck. "She will become addicted to it."

Helena's hands clenched into fists underwater. An addicted like she was becoming? Like she was already—?

'No... I won't... I can't let myself...'

But her eyes kept drifting to the water's surface, watching the shapes moving beneath it, imagining—

He chuckled, pulling back slightly. "Everyone is not a horny woman like you, Mira."

They both laughed again, a private joke that excluded Helena completely.

The laughter cut through Helena like a blade.

She wanted to rage against it, to deny it, but her pussy was still leaking, still desperate, still remembering the shape of him inside her.

"What are you doing, young master?!" Helena's voice was sharp, panicked.

She scrambled off his thigh, standing in the chest-deep water, her massive breasts bobbing with her agitation. "She's clearly corrupting you! Are you really thinking about another woman? What is wrong with you?"

Her panic was real—not just about Laila, but about her own crumbling resolve.

Viktor's playful expression hardened.

He looked at her, and his silence was more cutting than any reprimand.

Helena's outburst died in her throat.

She saw her mistake, the flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

Instead of forcing her, he twisted the knife. "That day," he said, his voice cold and distant, "it was Elena who had framed me. She was the one who engaged in dark magic, and when I stopped her, she framed me."

The name hit Helena like a physical blow.

Lady Elena is none other than the fiancée of her young master.

"What?" she whispered, her body trembling.

Her mind raced back, recalling the events of his exile.

Lady Elena had been the one to burst into the hall, to tell the Count everything in shocking detail.

How had she known so much?

The suspicion, once planted, grew into a horrifying certainty.

Helena's eyes widened.

She stood up abruptly, water splashing around her jiggling breasts.

"Then why didn't you tell the Count? Let's go! We can still clarify your nam—!"

She screamed as Mira, with lightning speed, reached behind her and pinched her clit hard between two fingers.

"You got a beautiful pussy, don't you?" Mira hissed, her voice venomous.

"Eeeek~!!" Helena wailed sharply, her body jerking from the sudden twist of pain, clit throbbing under the vise-like grip.

Helena's entire recovery halted. The pain should have made her angry, should have made her fight back—but instead, images flooded her consciousness.

Her body went rigid, muscles quivering as her pussy involuntarily gushed around Mira's fingers. The shame of her own response was almost worse than the pain.

"How dare you—!"

Helena clenched her jaw, her hand raising to slap the insolent woman.

But she never made it.

Viktor's hand shot out, grabbing one of her heavy breasts and yanking her down.

She lost her footing, crying out as she fell forward, her face planting directly into Mira's massive, pillowy tits.

"Guhh~... nngh!" Helena gasped muffled against the soft flesh, cheeks burning with humiliation.

Her mind fragmenting further.

"Oh my," Mira said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as Helena sputtered against her flesh. "Now we are both equal."

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