Helena's voice was a choked sob as she clawed at the floorboards.

PAH! PAH!

He drove into her again and again, his thick shaft churning the old cum inside her into a disgusting lube. The friction was insane, a wet, sloppy squelching sound mixing with the slapping of their flesh.

"Mphh~! Ounghh~! HIEKK~!!" Her moans were broken screams of pain and a dawning, filthy pleasure.

Viktor growled, his mind gone, lost in pure animal lust. He reached around and grabbed her massive, swinging tits, squeezing them hard enough to make her whimper. He could feel her insides clenching desperately around his invading cock.

'It's too much! He's splitting me in two! Again!' Her mind was a whirlwind of shame and sensation. That thick thing was filling the same hole he'd already claimed, stretching her, violating her all over again. Her body was on fire.

PAAH! PAAH!

Viktor's thrusts became deeper, more punishing. He wanted to erase her, to fill her until she was nothing but his.

"AANGH~!! N-no... please... s-slow... UNGH~!" Her pleas were cut off by his brutal rhythm.

Her ass was on fire, stretched to its absolute limit. With every piston-like stroke, she could feel his balls smacking against her, sending shockwaves through her entire body.

"You like this, don't you?" he grunted into her ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Taking my cock in your ass?"

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"HNNGH~! OOH~! AAAHH~!!" She slammed her forehead against the floor, unable to take the overwhelming stimulation.

Her insides convulsed. His cock throbbed, swelling even thicker inside her tight channel. He was close.

"M-master, I... I can't... I'm going to... AHH!"

PAAAH!

With one final, soul-shattering thrust, Viktor drove his cock in to the hilt and exploded. A fresh, hot load of cum flooded her already-full ass, mixing with the old, stretching her from the inside out. The sheer volume was obscene.

"FUUUCK!" he roared as he came, pumping his seed into her.

Helena screamed into the floor, her body seizing as a phantom orgasm ripped through her, a product of pure overstimulation and violation. Her hole clenched violently, trying to milk every last drop from him.

Viktor collapsed on top of her, still buried deep inside her ass, panting like an animal. He could feel his new load mixing with the old, a hot, sticky mess filling her completely.

He pulled out slowly with a wet schlorp, revealing her utterly ruined, gaping asshole, which immediately began leaking a mixture of fresh and old cum onto the floor, right into the puddle she was supposed to be cleaning.

"Wait," he panted, his voice a low growl. "Since you are preganant, shouldn't I be working hard on your other hole?"

thump thump

"N-no... I-I need to.. Go!" Helena stood and ran away while stumbling, leaving him there as he just looked, shaking his head as he inhaled, feeling motivated and said...

"Fine then, let's do work now."

By midday, the work was in full swing.

Helena scrubbed the walls with the foaming solution Viktor had brewed, her movements quick and efficient.

The grime came away almost eagerly, revealing clean wood beneath. She tried to focus on the task, but her mind kept wandering to how he'd looked at her this morning—that intensity in his eyes when he'd kissed her neck.

'"I want you to always be bold like that."'

The words made her blush all over again.

Outside, Viktor was carving braces from fallen branches with Master Carver precision. His hands moved fast—faster than should be possible—shaping wood like it was clay.

His knuckles worked the grain, fingers guiding chisel and knife with practiced ease.

Mira stood nearby, supposed to be organizing salvaged wood, but she found herself watching him instead.

The concentration on his face, the way his biceps flexed with each stroke, the sweat that dripped down his temple and soaked into his collar—

'"Even more than my cock?"'

She'd nearly choked on her food. The embarrassment was mortifying, but the teasing had sent heat spiraling through her core. She pressed her thighs together now, shifting her weight to ease the tender ache that wouldn't fade.

"You're not organizing, you're admiring," Viktor said without looking up from his carving.

Mira's face went nuclear. "I—no, young master, I was just—"

"Relax." He chuckled, finally glancing at her. "It's fine. Means the work's getting done, at least."

He set down his tools and stretched, his shirt riding up slightly to show the soft curve of his belly. Mira's throat went dry watching the subtle play of muscle beneath the fabric.

Helena emerged from inside, pausing to watch as well. The sight of him—sweat-slicked, confident, utterly in command—made her chest tighten.

Viktor planted the last brace into the foundation, wiping sweat from his brow.

His muscles ached from hours of work, but satisfaction hummed through him. The manor's main hall was taking shape—cleaner, sturdier, livable.

He stepped back, surveying the reinforced beams and freshly scrubbed walls. The smell of herbs and wood polish had replaced the mold and decay.

"Mira!" he called out, his voice echoing through the corridor.

Footsteps padded from the kitchen. Mira appeared, still flushed from earlier, her dress clinging to her curves. She stopped a few feet away, eyes downcast, fingers twisting together nervously.

"Yes, young master?"

Viktor's gaze swept over her—those full breasts, the way her hips flared beneath the fabric, the slight tremble in her stance. His cock stirred, but he ignored it for now. "Come here."

She hesitated, then walked toward him, each step slow and uncertain. When she was close enough to touch, he reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her the rest of the way.

"Master, I—"

Before she could finish, his hand slid down her back and groped her ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. Mira gasped, eyes going wide.

"V-Viktor..."

He spread her cheeks through the dress, feeling the heat radiating from between them, then lifted her effortlessly. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he pushed her up against the wall.

Their lips sealed together, tongues immediately tangling in a desperate, hungry kiss. Mira moaned into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair, gripping tight. She tasted like the porridge they'd eaten earlier, sweet and earthy.

Viktor's hands roamed her body, squeezing, kneading, claiming. Her nipples hardened against his chest, and he could feel the wetness seeping through her dress onto his stomach.

From the hallway, Helena stood frozen, watching. Her eyes blinked slowly, processing the scene. Her hand moved on its own, rubbing her thighs together as phantom sensations flickered through her body.

Her ass still hurt—ached deep inside from how he'd fucked her earlier, twice now in the same hole.

But the pain was transforming into something else, something addictive. It was as if the phantom of his cock was etched onto her skin, burned into her nerve endings.

She could still feel the stretch, the fullness, the way he'd filled her to the brim.

She breathed out shakily, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Viktor and Mira separated with a wet smack, a thick trail of saliva stretching between their lips before breaking. Mira panted, face flushed crimson, eyes glazed with lust.

Viktor set her down gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His voice was low, commanding. "I hope you will help me with Helena. This is her first time being a mother."

Mira nodded quickly, still catching her breath. "Of course, young master. I'll... I'll take care of her."

Her hand started to drift downward, fingers reaching toward his crotch where his cock was straining against the fabric. She wanted to feel it, to stroke it, to—

Viktor caught her wrist, stopping her. A smirk tugged at his lips. "You perverted wife. Not now. Let me do work."

Mira's face went nuclear, shame and arousal mixing into a dizzying cocktail. "I-I'm sorry, master!"

Viktor chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. The tenderness contrasted sharply with the raw passion from moments ago. "Rest up. I'll be back soon."

He released her and turned, striding toward the door. His mind was already shifting gears, cataloging the tasks that still needed doing—reinforcing the outer walls, treating the wood for rot, organizing the storage.

But underneath the focus, a dull ache throbbed in his balls. Fucking both of them all day had drained him completely. Helena's last ride had taken the very last drop he had left. His balls felt heavy, sore, empty.

'Need time to recover,' he thought, adjusting himself discreetly as he walked. 'Can't keep going like this without a break.'

Still, the memory of Helena's ass clenching around his cock, of Mira's tongue battling his, kept his body humming with residual heat.

He stepped out into the garden, the cool air hitting his face. The sun was starting to dip lower, casting golden light across the overgrown foliage.

Viktor cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders. "Alright. Let's get this done."

By dusk, the main hall was transformed.

The walls gleamed, dust-free and clean. The floorboards no longer creaked under careful feet, and the braces overhead locked the sagging ceiling beams into place with neat precision.

Even Rust had proven useful, barking at a pair of rats that tried to scurry across the new floor—his presence enough to send them scattering.

Viktor hammered the last nail with satisfying finality, then stepped back to survey his work.

Both Helena and Mira stood nearby, their legs trembling slightly from the day's labor. Their dresses clung to them with sweat, hair mussed and falling from its bindings.

They looked thoroughly worked, but there was something satisfied in their eyes too.

---

Viktor passed the main hall where Toby, Mira, and Helena had crashed on the couch, all three asleep in a pile.

Toby's head on Mira's lap. Helena's arm draped over both.

Viktor's gaze lingered on the trio in the main hall, the hammer still heavy in his dirt-streaked hand.

His fat burned from the endless carving and hammering, bruises blooming along his forearms where splinters had fought back and the chisel had slipped once or twice.

Sweat and grime caked his skin, turning his shirt into a second, uncomfortable layer that clung like a bad memory.

He was bone-tired, gasping quietly as he leaned against the doorframe, the weight of the day pressing down harder than any beam he'd braced.

For a split second, his mind wandered to the easy lie he could tell himself—that this was all just survival, just fixing up a crumbling manor for the sake of it.

No deeper ties, no real responsibility beyond the next meal or repair or sex.

But then he really saw them: Toby's small chest rising and falling in peaceful sleep, his tiny fingers curled into Mira's skirt like he trusted the world not to hurt him again.

Helena's arm draped protectively over them both, her face softened in repose, free of the day's worries and blushes.

They looked so vulnerable there on the lumpy couch, piled together against the chill of the evening air seeping through the cracks.

Viktor breathed out a long, ragged sigh, ruffling his own sweat-damp hair with his free hand.

The hammer felt absurdly heavy now, a tool for building rather than destruction.

"Maybe I should make a bed for them first, then take a nap."

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