It winked and dribbled, a thick mixture of foamy white lube and clear juices sliding out of the perfect, stretched 'O' shape his girth had carved into her.
Eliantara looked like a discarded ragdoll tossed carelessly onto wet ground.
Her belly lay flat on the soaked mattress, her slender limbs splayed out at awkward angles, her bruised hips still propped up high by the pillows.
Her heavy tits had spilled to either side of her ribcage, the flushed, irritated nipples dragging trails of leaked milk across the wrinkled sheets.
She was broken. Emptied of all thought.
Viktor stood over her twitching form, his chest heaving with exertion.
He stroked his dripping wet cock once with a slow, possessive fist, squeezing the thick veins.
Clear precum leaked from the slit, mixing with the shiny coat of Eliantara's anal juices.
Slowly, deliberately, he looked over his broad shoulder at the two naked observers huddled by the door.
"Come," he commanded.
