Chapter 416 - 415 - Banging Saintess and Eyeing Elf MiLF
The words came from Bella. She was perched on the pond shelf again, tail swishing in the water, golden eyes moving between Viktor and the stone steps where Olivia had been sitting for the last forty minutes.
Olivia.
She sat at the very top step, where the water just barely reached her ankles. Her blonde hair was pulled over one shoulder. Her golden-amber eyes had been watching the entire morning with the specific paralysis of a woman who had been told, reasoned with, seduced by argument and proximity and smell, and whose body had been casting votes for something her priestess training was losing the majority in. Her white robe — the thin morning one, lighter than the formal vestments — clung where the steam had found it. Her enormous breasts rose and fell with her breathing. Her thick thighs were pressed firmly together on the step.
She had been telling herself she was just watching to understand. For twenty minutes.
Then thirty.
Then she had stopped telling herself anything and was simply watching with her lower lip between her teeth.
Viktor looked at her now.
She immediately looked at the garden wall.
"Don’t look at the wall," Mira called out, unhelpfully. "You’ve been staring at him for an hour."
"I haven’t been—"
"You were counting." Mira’s green eyes were sharp and certain. "I saw you counting. On your fingers. You counted four."
Olivia’s face went crimson from jaw to hairline.
Helena waded toward the steps. Her enormous breasts trailed white threads in the water. She stopped at the base of the stairs and looked up at Olivia with those warm brown eyes that had never in their life contained an ounce of cruelty.
"Come in the water," Helena said simply.
"I... shouldn’t."
"The water is warm."
"That’s not— it’s not the temperature I’m—"
"Olivia." Helena’s voice was patient and absolute, the same voice she had presumably used on Viktor as a child when he was pretending not to want something. "We all watched you watching. You don’t have to pretend."
Olivia’s hands pressed together in her lap. Her golden eyes moved to Viktor. He had not moved toward her, had not spoken, was simply standing in the water watching her with the patient dark eyes of a man who had all morning and had already decided how this ended.
"He’ll—" She swallowed. "He’ll fill me. Won’t he."
"Yes," Mira said, from Viktor’s side.
"And I’ll—"
"Probably," Bella said cheerfully, from the shelf.
"I’m not— I haven’t— this is—" Her hands pressed together harder. Her enormous breasts rose with a long, shaky breath. "I took vows of—"
"You’re serving the Apostle," Mira said, with the smooth certainty of a woman who had refined this argument over weeks. "Directly. There’s nothing holier."
"That’s— that’s a convenient—"
"Olivia." Viktor’s voice. Quiet. Just her name.
She stopped talking.
His voice had done the same thing it always did. Found the precise place between her ribs where all the arguments lived and made them go quiet, not by force but by weight. She hated it. She was leaning toward the water.
"Come here," he said.
"...I’ll drown," she said, very quietly, which wasn’t what she meant at all.
"No," Viktor said, "you won’t."
She stood.
Her robe hit the stone step behind her.
The garden air touched her skin all at once, and Olivia — the blonde priestess with the enormous pillow-soft breasts and the thick breeding hips and the golden eyes that had gone wide — walked down the stone steps into the water like someone walking into something they couldn’t quite believe was happening to them.
"’Oh—’" The warmth of the water hit her thighs, her hips, the curve of her belly, and she stopped at waist-depth with both arms lifting instinctively. "’It is warm.’"
"Told you," Helena said, pleasantly.
Viktor waded to her.
Olivia’s eyes went to his cock immediately and then to his face and then to the garden wall again. Her cheeks were so flushed the color had gone beyond embarrassment into something more primary.
His hand found her chin. Turned her face back.
"Eyes on me," he said.
"I—" Her voice was very small. "You’re very— you’re ’quite’ large, my lord."
"Mm."
"That’s not— I’m just observing that it—"
His other hand settled on her lower back and drew her forward. Her enormous breasts pressed against his chest, and the contact — the warmth of him, the specific weight of incubus heat against her skin — made her breath come out in a rush that had no words in it.
"’Oh—’"
From the edge, Kaida’s voice: "We want him to fill you."
Olivia startled. Her golden eyes darted to where Kaida stood, arms crossed, crimson eyes level.
"All of us," Kaida said. Direct. Blunt. Warrior honesty stripped of everything else. "He should fill you. Make you pregnant. Like us."
"She’s right," Mira said, from Viktor’s other side. "You belong here. You’ve been here for weeks. You’ve watched. You know."
"You smell like you want it," Bella added, ears forward, golden eyes bright.
"’Bella—’"
"She does! That’s a compliment—"
"Put him inside her," Elara said, very quietly, her pink eyes soft and certain. "She’ll understand after. I didn’t— before— but after, I understood."
Olivia looked at Viktor. His dark eyes were steady and close. Not pushing. Not pulling. Just ’there’, waiting with the patience of something that already knew.
"I’m frightened," Olivia said. The most honest thing she’d said all morning.
"I know," Viktor said.
"That’s not— you’re supposed to say you shouldn’t be."
"You’ll be fine," he said instead. "That’s different."
A pause.
Then: "’...Okay.’"
He turned her in the water. Her hands found the same flat rock ledge that had received half his wives this morning, worn warm now from the repeated use of frightened and eager and certain hands. Her enormous breasts pressed against the stone. Her thick hips rose slightly at the surface. Viktor’s hands settled on them — both hands, holding her with a grip that said ’mine’ so clearly it required no words.
"’If it hurts—’" she started.
"Tell me," he said.
"’—Don’t stop,’" she finished.
He stilled for a beat.
Then: "Olivia."
"I’m a priestess, not a—’hkk—’"
He pushed in.
"’—Haaahn~—!!!!’"
Her whole spine arched. Her hands slipped down the rock. Her golden eyes blew wide and her voice cracked in half, the priestess-reserve and the sheltered monastery-girl and everything else she’d been trained to be dissolving in a single breath into something much simpler and much louder.
"’It’s— ’too much’—’ I can feel— you’re— ’Hngh~!’—"
’Pah.’
"’Ahnn~—!!’"
’PAH.’
"’OUNGH~—!!!’"
"Still with me?" Viktor asked.
"’Yes—’ yes— don’t— ’’don’t stop’’—" Her voice cracked again, differently this time, the word fragmenting in her throat. "I— it feels— ’why’ does it feel like—"
"Like what?"
"’Like— Haahn~!— like I was always supposed to—’"
He drove deeper.
’PAAAH—’
"’AAANGHH~!!!!! ’Young’— I— my ’lord’— I can feel it— all the way—’"
His womb penetration ability, quiet and efficient, nudged through the cervix without pain and delivered exactly where it was designed to deliver. Olivia’s voice stopped making words entirely for approximately fifteen seconds and produced instead a series of sounds that Rusty, at the edge, apparently found very significant because his glow spiked to near-white and then settled.
Viktor’s hand went to her lower belly. Felt himself through the softness of her skin.
"I’m going to fill you," he said. Not asking.
"’Yes—’" Barely a breath. "’Please— ’yes’—’"