Chapter 1: Hunger in the Hospital
The sterile white walls of Moscow’s grim hospital ward couldn’t contain the raw, feral energy radiating from Svetlana. Just two days after a near-fatal mephedrone overdose, the 43-year-old former housewife turned high-end prostitute was already clawing at the edges of her sanity. Her platinum bob framed a face that screamed sin—long, fake lashes fluttering over hungry, predatory eyes, and silicone lips so plump they looked ready to burst. Tattoos snaked across her taut skin, a navel piercing glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights, and those massive, fake tits strained against the flimsy hospital gown. She didn’t look sick. No, Svetlana looked like a goddess of debauchery, a woman who’d traded decency for depravity in under a year, all thanks to the pimps who’d fed her that first, addictive hit of mephedrone.
She shifted on the stiff bed, her thighs rubbing together with a desperate itch. 'I need it,' she hissed to herself, her voice a sultry growl, thick with Russian accent. 'Just one more sniff of that sweet powder, and I’ll be whole again.' Her hunger wasn’t just for drugs—it was for everything. For the high, for the thrill, for the filthy, raw fucking that came with her new life.
The door creaked open, and in strode Dr. Ivan, a rugged, broad-shouldered man in his late thirties, his white coat doing little to hide the bulge of muscle beneath. His dark eyes locked on Svetlana, and a smirk curled his lips. 'You’re awake, I see,' he drawled, his voice dripping with something far from professional concern. 'And looking like you’re ready to climb the walls—or something else.'
Svetlana’s gaze raked over him, her silicone lips parting in a wicked smile. 'Doctor, you have no idea how ready I am,' she purred, shifting to let the gown slip off one shoulder, revealing the curve of her fake, round boobs. 'I’m starving, Ivan. Not for your shitty hospital food, but for something... harder. Got any powder on you? Or are you just gonna tease me with that cock I can see straining in your pants?'
Ivan chuckled, low and dangerous, stepping closer. 'You’re a fucking mess, Svetlana. A gorgeous, depraved mess. I shouldn’t even be in here, but Christ, look at you. You’re practically begging for it.' He leaned in, his breath hot on her neck. 'No drugs, darling. But I’ve got something else to feed that hungry little pussy of yours.'
Her hand shot out, grabbing his collar and yanking him down. 'Then stop talking and give it to me,' she snarled, her voice thick with lust. 'I’m dripping already, you bastard. Don’t make me wait.' She could feel the heat between her legs, wet and aching, her body screaming for release as much as for the high she craved.
Ivan’s hands were on her in an instant, shoving the gown up to expose her tattooed thighs and the glistening heat of her. 'Fuck, you’re a filthy little whore, aren’t you?' he growled, his fingers digging into her hips. 'Let’s see how much you can take before you’re panting and sweating for more.'
Svetlana laughed, a sharp, wicked sound, as she spread her legs wider. 'Bring it, Doctor. I’ve taken harder than you can dream of. Make me forget the itch for that powder—make me cum so hard I can’t think straight.' Her eyes burned with challenge, her body already arching toward him, horny and unapologetic, ready for the explosion that was seconds away.
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