"Sister Helen," Ravina muttered, voice sharp enough to cut glass—"no need to worry about it." She moved in closer, fingers clamped so tight on that soaked leather you’d think she was trying to snap it in two. "I t Dexter when we went to find food. And I caught him."
A cold smile twisted her lips. "He’s our prisoner now. So he won’t get anything from us. And if he can’t heal you—" Her gaze flicked to , sharp as a blade. "—then we’ll kill him. He’s useless otherwise."
I froze.
Evil.
The word settled in my chest like a stone.
I had co here thinking of their bodies—their strength, their submission, the way their skin would flush under my hands. I had imagined them kneeling, not by force, but by choice. By need.
But I had forgotten the most important truth of all.
This wasn’t the world I knew.
This place? Total jungle—think teeth, claws, every woman for herself. Show a little kindness and you’re toast; let your guard down and, well, let’s just say "ga over."
None of these won were sitting around hoping so knight in shiny armor would co fix things. Nope. They’d rather handle it themselves, thank you very much.
Fine.
But if they wanted a monster?
Then I’d give them one.
A slow, venomous smile curled my lips.
Revenge.
I’d have Helen so desperate, so absolutely wrecked with need, she’d be squirming and whimpering in front of Ravina—fever be damned. Her own body would turn traitor, and all she could do would be gasp and beg, right there, while her sister just stood there, helpless. Honestly, it’d be fun to watch.
I wasn’t a saint. I had a temper.
And they had just poked the wrong beast.
Ravina put the wet animal skin into my hands and said. "Here. What are you going to do with it?"
I took it, unfolding the damp hide with deliberate slowness, letting the silence stretch. "I need to wipe her body first."
Ravina’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t stop as I walked toward Helen.
I plopped down next to her—honestly, probably a little too close, but hey, subtlety’s never really been my thing. The heat rolling off her? Crazy, I used My Pervert Eyes over her, scanning, calculating.
Oh.
Her points had doubled.
Interesting.
Helen’s body was a goldmine—every curve, every flush of fevered skin, every place I could take from her. And Ravina’s points had doubled too. Sisters? Maybe. Or just the bond of survival. It didn’t matter.
What mattered was the rule I’d just learned:
Once you take the doubled points, the normal points vanish forever.
I’d already seen it with Ruth. After I’d claid her double points, her body had only left the scraps—armpits, asshole, lips. The leftover places.
But Helen?
She was fresh.
And Ravina?
Oh, she was going to watch.
I draped the wet skin over my palm, letting the cold water drip between my fingers.
The wet animal skin was heavy in my hand, dripping with cold stream water, the hide still warm from Ravina’s grip. I let it drape over my fingers, feeling the weight of it, the way it clung to my skin like a second layer. Helen’s breath hitched as I turned toward her, her dark eyes wide with a mix of fear and sothing else—sothing she didn’t want to na.
"This might feel strange," I murmured, my voice dripping with false sympathy, smooth as oil sliding over naked skin.
Helen’s lips parted, her tongue darting out to wet them. "What—?"
I didn’t answer.
I pressed the damp hide to her collarbone and began to wipe.
Her lips—chapped from the damn fever, but still so insanely soft—barely resisted the scratchy animal skin as I moved it across them. I took my ti, kinda obsessing over the small hitch in her breath.
She flinched at the icy water, shivering all over, biting down on her lip like it might keep the sound locked away. My eyes stayed glued to her, mind racing, half concern, half sothing stupidly hopeful.
"Mmm—!"
A broken little noise, half protest, half sothing else. Sothing hungry.
I pressed harder, letting the wet hide sar against her lips, forcing them apart just enough to see the glistening pink of her tongue.
200.
"Good girl," I murmured.
Her cheeks flushed darker.
I didn’t waste ti.
My hand slid down, the wet skin dripping onto her chest as I cupped one of her massive tits through the damp hide. Helen gasped, her back arching off the furs, her fingers clawing into the pelts beneath her.
"Aaaah—! N-Nnngh—!"
Her tits were heavy, the weight of them pressing into my palm, the flesh so soft it nearly spilled between my fingers. The fever had made her skin hot, her nipples dark and painfully hard, straining against the damp hide as I squeezed.
"Fuck," I breathed.
I pinched her nipple through the wet skin.
Helen jerked, a broken moan tearing from her throat. "Hmmmm—! S-Stop—! Ah—! Nnngh—!"
Her nipple was thick, the bud swollen with heat, the flesh around it puckered and sensitive. I twisted just enough to make her whimper, her hips lifting off the furs in a helpless little roll.
400 for the tits. 800 for the nipples.
"Look at you," I growled, my voice rough. "Such a good little patient."
Her chest heaved, her tits jiggling with every ragged breath, her nipples aching under my touch.
I glanced at Ravina.
She was frozen, her dark eyes wide, her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "W-What are you—?"
"Helping," I said, my voice smooth. "Now hold her arm up."
Ravina hesitated--a mont--then stepped forward. She took hold of Helen by the wrist and uplifted her arm so as to reveal the damp, dark crevice of her armpit.
The stench hit first.
Sweat. Musk. It was the raw, sweaty sll of a woman who was pushed to extres.
Black, rough, sticky curls, tumbled and knotted together, filled up the armpit, which was as sleek with fever-sweat, and the skin under it was as sensitive as the ones on the breasts. I dragged that wet hide through the thick hair, making sure I pressed down to cause her to hiss.
"Hmmm—! D-Don’t—! Ah—! It’s—! Nnngh—!"
Her body twisted, but Ravina held her firm, her grip bruising. The wet skin caught on the curls, tugging just enough to make Helen gasp, her thighs pressing together.
I did not miss the fact that Ravina snorted as I crossed to the opposite side, repeating the action, another 200 in the pocket.
"You are so dirty, Elder Helen," I said, with approval. "I can sll you." Her face burned crimson.
Helen was now panting, with her chest heaving up and down in sharp, uneven gasps. I trailed my fingers down to the wetness that dripped on her stomach as I circled her belly button.
The skin there was soft. Too soft. The fever had made her sensitive; every touch amplified. I rubbed the wet hide into the shallow hollow of her belly, and pulled it down--a good way down--to make her shake.
"Hmmmm—!"
I could see the twitching of Helen’s body; she had huddled her thighs and was gasping. It was not simply a need she made but a cry of desperation as her body reacted whilst her mind protested.
I slid my finger down to her navel.. and touched her navel... pressing it.
"Ah—! N-Nnngh—! P-Please—!"
100.
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