Chapter 50: Chapter 50- Helena Vs Mira

Mira’s pussy clenched around his softening cock at the words. She understood perfectly.

Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her hips.

His limp cock slipped partway out—still thick enough to stretch her entrance, coated in their combined fluids. Cum leaked out around the shaft, dripping down to coat his balls and thighs.

Then she sat back down.

Hard.

“Hey—!” Viktor’s grunt mixed surprise and renewed arousal as his cock plunged back into her depths—not fully hard yet, but the tight wet heat of her pussy was already working its magic.

Mira’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her voice coming out sultry and confident. “More pussies… am I right, husband?”

Viktor’s hands moved to her hips, gripping the soft flesh possessively. He pulled her closer, lips finding her neck. He kissed the sweaty skin, then bit down gently, leaving a red mark.

“You’re the best wife, Mira,” he growled against her throat.

His cock twitched inside her, already beginning to swell again despite having just cum.

The promise of more women to claim—more holes to fill, more bodies to breed—stirred his insatiable appetite.

Mira’s hands came up to cup his face, turning his head so their eyes met. Hers glimmered with fierce devotion mixed with cunning understanding.

She knew her role now. Not just wife. But gatekeeper. The experienced woman who would train and manage the others, ensuring Viktor’s needs were always met.

And Helena—inexperienced, emotional Helena—would learn her place beneath them both.

Mira leaned in, sealing their lips in a deep kiss. Her tongue invaded his mouth possessively, tasting herself and his earlier conquest of her throat.

“Haah… Haah…” When she pulled back, both were breathing harder again. Viktor’s cock had grown to half-mast inside her, the renewed girth stretching her cum-slick walls.

Behind them, Helena’s footsteps grew louder.

Closer.

Mira’s smile widened, predatory and satisfied.

’Let her come. Let her see who truly owns this cock now.’

’That was unexpected.’ Viktor blinked, his eyes widening slightly at Mira’s unexpected boldness.

That kiss—possessive, claiming, confident—hadn’t been part of his instructions. She’d taken initiative, marking her territory in front of Helena with brazen certainty.

His hands rested on her wide hips, fingers splayed across the soft flesh. He shook his head slowly, a mixture of surprise and grudging respect crossing his features.

’This woman got more spine than I thought.’

But before he could respond, Helena’s voice cut through the morning air like a blade.

“Young master. What are you doing?”

Her tone was completely firm—not the hesitant maid from last night, but a wife catching her husband with another woman. Possessive. Demanding. Hurt masked by anger.

Viktor didn’t lift his head. Didn’t look at her. His gaze stayed locked on Mira’s face, watching her green eyes glimmer with predatory satisfaction.

Mira turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at Helena over her shoulder. Her expression was cool, dismissive. “Can’t you see that young lord is busy?”

Helena’s mouth twitched, her jaw clenching. “What?”

“Are you deaf?” Mira’s voice dripped with condescension. “I said, young master is busy getting serviced.”

Their eyes met across the garden clearing.

Brown against green. Mature maid versus experienced widow. Two thick-bodied women fighting for ownership of the same man.

Helena tore her gaze away from Mira, focusing on Viktor. Her voice trembled slightly despite her attempt at firmness. “I could guess that maybe you would have lost interest in me.” She swallowed hard, forcing the next words out. “But to choose an old woman like her? Did she do some kind of magic on you?”

’Please answer me. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m better than this saggy-titted widow who just showed up yesterday.’

Helena’s eyes traced Mira’s body—those massive sagging tits pressing against Viktor’s chest, the stretch-marked belly, the thick thighs straddling him. Nothing superior to her own body. Both of them were middle-aged women with worn, maternal figures.

So why?

Mira’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. “You’re not tight enough. That’s all.”

The words hit like a slap.

Helena’s face flushed crimson—not from shame, but from indignation. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “What? Tight enough?” Her voice rose, embarrassment forgotten in her anger. “Unlike you, I’ve never slept with any man before! I gave my virginity to young master!”

The admission hung in the air—raw, vulnerable, desperate.

Mira’s smirk widened. ’This woman who was too embarrassed to face me this morning is now bold enough to declare her sexual history?’

But before Mira could respond, Viktor moved.

His hand grabbed Mira’s left breast—that heavy, sagging udder that had been pressed against his chest. His fingers sank deep into the soft tissue, squeezing hard enough to make the flesh bulge between his digits.

Then his mouth sealed over her nipple.

“Mmm…” Mira’s satisfied hum mixed with Viktor’s sucking sounds.

He latched onto that thick, inch-long nub like a starving infant. His tongue swirled around the tip, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he bit down gently. Then he sucked—hard, cheeks hollowing with the effort.

Milk beaded at the tip immediately, coating his tongue with sweet warmth.

Mira’s hand moved to his hair, fingers threading through the damp strands. She ruffled his hair with maternal tenderness, looking down at him with an expression of gentle indulgence—like a mother nursing her child, or a wife caring for her husband.

Her gaze lifted to Helena, that soft expression sharpening into something crueler.

“He’s a young man with too much vitality,” Mira said, her voice carrying easily across the garden. “It’s natural for him to need sex frequently.” She paused, letting Viktor suck harder on her nipple, his hand kneading her tit roughly. “If you can’t fulfill it, then he’ll go for other women. Isn’t this your fault?”

Helena’s stomach twisted violently.

Watching Viktor suckle at this woman’s breast—watching him treat her with such casual intimacy while ignoring Helena completely—made bile rise in her throat.

“Stop this right now!” Helena’s voice cracked with desperation and fury. “Know your place!”

But Viktor retreated from Mira’s nipple with a wet pop, finally lifting his head to look at Helena. His expression was cold, distant—nothing like the possessive hunger he’d shown with Mira.

“Stop, Helena. You’re not helping.”

The words were quiet. Final.

Helena trembled, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Tears formed instantly, blurring her vision. “W-What?”

Viktor’s gaze was steady, almost clinical as he looked at her. “Why not just prove to her that you’re superior?” He gestured vaguely. “Remove your clothes. Let’s take a bath together before Toby wakes.”

Helena blinked rapidly, not understanding. Her mind struggled to process his words through the fog of hurt and confusion.

Beside him, Mira slowly lifted herself.

Her thick thighs tensed as she rose, Viktor’s cock slipping free from her pussy with a lewd squelch. The shaft emerged coated in their combined fluids—cream and cum mixing in obscene strands connecting her cunt to his cock.

Then gravity took over.

Cum gushed from her gaping hole, pouring out in thick globs to splatter on the garden dirt. The amount was obscene—load after load that Viktor had pumped directly into her womb now flooding out, creating a creamy puddle beneath them.

Mira stood fully, completely naked, her body on full display.

Helena’s eyes traced every detail with growing horror and jealousy.

Those massive saggy tits hung heavily, nipples raw and red from Viktor’s abuse, still leaking tiny beads of milk. The stretch-marked belly—tiger stripes crisscrossing the soft flesh. The shaved pussy—pink lips swollen and gaping, cum still dripping steadily down her inner thighs.

A used body. A mother’s body. Nothing objectively superior to Helena’s own figure.

And yet Viktor had chosen her.

Helena’s gaze dropped lower, settling on Viktor himself.

He stood slowly, his cock rising with him—already thick and erect again despite having just cum inside Mira. Seven inches of veined meat jutting from his groin, glistening with their fluids.

His chubby body was drenched in sweat, skin flushed from exertion. But beneath the softness, Helena noticed something she’d missed before.

Definition. Slight, but present. His arms showed faint muscle striations. His chest had a hint of firmness beneath the fat. His belly, while still soft, seemed tighter somehow.

’Something’s changed. His body… it’s improving. But how? We’ve been here barely any time…’

But Helena shoved the observation aside, focusing on what mattered.

Viktor stood between them now—naked, hard, sweaty. A young lord caught between his virgin maid and his experienced widow.

Helena clenched her jaw so hard it ached. Her hands trembled at her sides, nails digging crescents into her palms.

“Fine,” she bit out, her voice cold and determined. “I’ll prove how I’m best for young master.”

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