Viktor moved toward her with deliberate slowness.
His finger came to rest on her cheek, the touch almost tender as it traced the path of water droplets running down her face.
It followed the trail down her jaw, along her throat, lingering where her pulse hammered against his fingertip.
His hand moved lower, hooking into the neckline of her shift. He tugged, and the wet fabric loosened around her cleavage, stretching but not falling.
Just enough to expose the upper curves of her breasts, the purple bruises he'd sucked into her skin.
Down. His fingers trailed over her sternum, between her breasts, thumbs grazing the hard peaks of her nipples through the clinging fabric. Helena's breath hitched.
His palm flattened against her abdomen, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her breathing, before sliding lower still. Between her legs.
Through the transparent shift, both his fingers pressed against her mound, rubbing in slow circles over her pussy. The wet fabric sank between her swollen lips, outlining every fold, every sensitive bit of flesh.
Helena flinched and winced, a sharp gasp escaping. The motion made the shift slip further down her hips.
"You remember how you used to bathe me?" Viktor's voice was soft, almost wistful. "Now it's my turn."
The fabric gave up its fight and fell completely, pooling around her feet in the shallow water.
Her wet pussy gleamed in the dying light—lips parted and dark pink, inner flesh protruding obscenely, her clit a swollen pearl peeking from its hood. Her breasts hung heavy, nipples hard and bruised purple-black.
She trembled, arms instinctively moving to cover herself. "Young master, I—"
He made a choking sound, grabbing her wrist and pressing it dramatically to his face. Rubbing at imaginary tears with theatrical flair.
"You're acting as if we didn't just fuck like animals!" His tone shifted to exasperation.
Helena averted her face, heat flooding from her cheeks down to her chest.
Viktor let out a long breath, then extended his hand. "Give me the soap."
She nodded mutely, fumbling through the pile of supplies on the bank. The lavender bar felt small and inadequate in her trembling palm as she placed it in his waiting hand.
He brought it to his nose immediately, inhaling deeply. His eyes opened, fixing on her face. "It smells like you." A pause, studying her expression. "I always used to wonder why you smelled so good. Is this it?"
"Yes, young master," she whispered.
Without warning, Viktor pressed the soap's hard edge directly against her pussy. The corner parted her labia, sliding between the swollen lips, dragging across her sensitive clit.
Helena's whole body jerked. "Young master, what are you—!"
"Cleaning the area I'm going to use soon enough."
The words made her thighs clamp together reflexively, trapping his hand. Fresh wetness leaked from her pussy, mixing with the water lapping at her legs.
Viktor pulled the soap away and stepped back. His hands went to his waistband, and his pants dropped into the water with a splash. His cock sprang free—still limp but thick, heavy, the head dark and already glistening.
Helena stared. Even soft, it made her blink in shock, her mind struggling to comprehend how that thing had been inside her. Her thighs rubbed together unconsciously as phantom sensations flooded back—the stretch, the fullness, the feeling of being split open.
"Come." Viktor grabbed her hand, fingers interlacing with hers.
They waded deeper together. The rocks were solid under her feet, warmed by the day's sun. Water rose to her calves, her thighs, her waist as they moved to where the cleared section was deepest.
Viktor positioned her where the water reached just below her breasts. He lathered the soap between his palms, working up a thick foam before pressing his hands to her shoulders.
"You used to do this for me," he murmured, working the soap across her collarbones in slow circles. "When I was small. You'd rub so gently." His hands moved lower, cupping her breasts. "You'd sing those little songs about birds and sunshine."
His thumbs found her nipples, circling the tender buds. Helena hissed through her teeth at the spike of pain.
"You'd wash my hair, my back. Always so careful, so patient." He pinched both nipples suddenly, rolling them between his fingers. "Like I was something precious."
Helena's breath came in short gasps. Despite the pain radiating from her abused nipples, warmth bloomed in her chest—memories flooding back of simpler times. Of a small boy who squealed when water got in his eyes, who trusted her completely. She smiled softly, almost sadly.
"I remember," she whispered. "You hated getting soap in your eyes. You'd cry for hours."
"Still do." Viktor's voice carried a hint of amusement as his soapy hands traveled lower, washing her stomach, her hips, the curve of her waist.
Then he moved behind her.
The warmth evaporated instantly.
Viktor's hands gripped her ass cheeks, spreading them apart. His soapy thumb pressed into the crack, sliding down the sensitive cleft.
Helena winced, muscles tensing. "Young master—"
"I want to clean my cock too." His voice was matter-of-fact, casual. "How am I going to rub soap on it properly?"
She opened her mouth to respond, confused by the question, when she felt it.
His cock sliding between her ass cheeks.
"Oh!" Her eyes went wide as saucers.
Still soft but rapidly hardening, his shaft nestled into the crack he'd just spread open. The soap made everything slick, frictionless. His cock felt hot against her cool skin, thick and heavy.
Before she could process what was happening, Viktor's arms wrapped around her from behind. His hands came up to cup her breasts, fingers digging into the soft flesh possessively.
His hips began to move.
He ground his cock between her ass cheeks in slow, deliberate thrusts. The soap created obscene wet sounds, squelching with each movement. Water sloshed around them, turning cloudy with lather. His shaft grew with each thrust, thickening, hardening, the head dragging up and down her crack.
"See?" His breath was hot against her ear, making her shiver. "Getting it nice and clean." His fingers found her nipples again, pinching and twisting until she whimpered. "Once my cock is clean..." He thrust harder, his now-fully-hard shaft grinding against her asshole. "I'll clean your insides too."
Helena trembled violently, her head dropping forward. The words sent liquid heat straight to her core. Her pussy clenched around nothing, releasing a fresh flood of wetness that mixed with the pond water. "Young master, I don't think that's—"
Her words cut off in a scream-moan that echoed across the pond.
His fingers had plunged into her pussy from behind—three thick digits forcing their way into her swollen, tender channel without warning.
Her inner walls clamped down hard, still raw and oversensitive, the sudden intrusion sending lightning bolts of pain-pleasure up her spine.
"Ahhh! Young master!" She squirmed, trying to pull away, but his arm around her torso locked her in place against his chest.
"Fuck, you're still dripping wet," Viktor groaned against her neck, pumping his fingers hard and fast. "Still full of my cum, aren't you?"
He crooked his fingers, rubbing ruthlessly against that sensitive spot on her front wall while his cock continued its grinding assault between her ass cheeks. His other hand mauled her breast, pinching and pulling her nipple so hard she thought it might tear off.
"Young master, please! It's too—ahhhh!" Another finger pushed inside, stretching her impossibly wider. "I'm still too sore!"
"Still sore?" He bit down on her shoulder, teeth breaking skin. "Hm, do you trust me, Helena?"