Page 20 of Velka Manor

He bunches the fabric, transfixed by the contrast of the red against the white. He can’t stop staring at it, yanking me a little closer, unable to stop himself. “What do you think we should do with you?”

“Fuck me,” I whisper, shaking in their hold.

Bastian’s gaze snaps up to mine. Dorian’s grip on my jaw tightens, and he tips my head. Neither say anything, and I know what they’re waiting for.

“Please, big brothers. Fuck me. I want you. I want you both so fucking bad, it hurts.” My voice shakes and my thighs tremble. I told our father the truth: my pussy was drenched when I realised what they had done to him for me.

Bastian groans, gripping my hips in a painful grasp, grinding his hard cock on my stomach. Dorian chuckles coldly against my neck, laying soft kisses up my throat. “Such a good little sister,” he whispers, running his tongue across my check.

Bastian cups my pussy, holding it in a firm grip, his eyes darkening with mischief. My head falls back into Dorian’s chest, fully intending to fuck them in this disgusting smelling room where our father lays mutilated on the bed not six feet from where we stand.

“But you broke one of the rules, Octavia,” Dorian tuts, and I can feel his smile on my flesh. “You need to be punished first.”

My heart pounds frantically in my chest, ice cold fear trickling down my spine, at odds with the white-hot pleasure that consumes my sex. Bastian feels my excitement, cupping me harder, moving the fabric out of the way to fully feel it.

“Such a sick, twisted whore,” he hisses. “You were fucking made for us.”

Bastian’s lips capture mine while Dorian’s stays on my throat. I hum in delight, his tongue demanding entrance, and I taste him mixed with the blood of our father. If being sane takes all this away, then I don’t want it. I want to bathe in the darkness with my brothers, let them consume me until I see nothing but them, and all they have is me.

13

Bastian

Ihave the most perfect view in the entire fucking universe. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve seen anything better. Actually, it could be a little better if Dorian hurried up instead of being a damn perfectionist ineverythinghe does.

“Good pussy. Pretty pussy,” I coo, lifting my hand, gently tickling the soft blonde curls on Octavia’s cunt. She jumps and then shivers, trying to close legs, though that’s impossible with her tied up like a pretty present.

“Are you going to stay there the entire time instead of helping?” Dorian huffs, slapping Octavia’s thigh to keep her from wriggling, twisting the red silk ties in an intricate pattern all over her body.

I tilt my head up from between her legs as she stands, raising an eyebrow at him. He’s completely fixated on his last few sections, biting his bottom lip. There’s no way he wants me to help. I’m not into the pretty ropes so much; the bondage I like, but how long it’s taken him to do it is such a bore. Luckily, I have the best view in the house to keep me occupied.

“You’d get annoyed and try to stab me if I even attempted to help,” I scoff, hooking a finger into the silk tie that leads the entire way down Octavia’s slit, a few knots added along the way to increase the pressure. One of them rubs against her clit as I do so, and she cries out, legs buckling. I twist my head, biting her calf to make her cry louder.

Dorian kicks me in the side, smacking her across the ass. “Would you stop making her move? I’m almost done.”

“Killjoy.” I pout, springing up to my feet, taking the temptation away.

He rolls his eyes but finishes hooking the last of the ties, giving them a good pull to make sure everything is safe. Our little sister looks like a piece of art, blood red silk ties twisted in intricate knots, crisscrossing all over her stomach, back, arms and thighs. Her hands are tied in front of her in a prayer against her chest, a long tie going to the ceiling to keep her steady, her legs locked in place by a bar ankle restraint.

“Perfection,” Dorian whispers, and I agree with him.

Her head whips around as we stand, watching. Her breathing is erratic, chest heaving. “Dorian? Bastian?”

Pretty girl is blindfolded with noise cancelling earbuds in. Her senses are cut off, part of Dorian’s punishment. He circles her like a predator hunting its prey, letting his fingers touch her now and then, making her jump.

His first smack is quick as lightning, catching her on the ass cheek, and she jolts forward, her body automatically pulling away, but she has nowhere to go. He doesn’t delay the next few; the smacks get harder—her thighs, her breasts, and lastly, her drenched pussy.

She screams as he hits her between the legs again, a beautiful cry falling from her lips. Her head tilts back as she moans, Dorian pulling on the rope rubbing against her clit.

He keeps at it until she’s a shaking mess, calling out our names in a needy voice that makes my dick throb. She whimpers in his face, nodding, leaning forward for a kiss, but he grasps her face, digging his fingers into her cheeks, coldly laughing before he tuts.

“Not yet, little angel. We’re only getting started on your punishment,” he says, even though she can’t hear him.

He runs his tongue over the seam of her pouty lips, taking delight in denying her, smacking her pussy one last time.

“Your turn.” Dorian smirks, letting her go and handing me the equipment I asked for. He saunters to the side, removing his tie and shirt before dropping into a plush black chair.

I circle Octavia as my fingers brush across her neck, moving her plait to the side and removing her earbuds. Dorian grunts, but I ignore him. He had his fun tying her up, and now, it’s my turn.

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