Page 31 of Velka Manor

Bastian is between her spread legs, flicking his tongue over her swollen clit, lapping up her release and burying his face deeper, inhaling her scent as I finish the tattoo on her ring finger. I could have given her a simple band, which would have been much quicker, but our wife deserves better.

“If you keep wiggling, this will take much longer. How many times has Bastian made you come now: three, four? Your sweet cunt must be desperate for relief.”

Her head twists to me, blonde hair stuck to her face. She glares hard, fire in her gaze as she tries to hold it, but Bastian does something that has her whimpering, biting her swollen bottom lip and shaking. I smirk, pulling her bottom lip from her teeth and biting it myself. She keens as she kisses me deeper, her tongue seeking mine out. I release her lip and give her what she wants, caught off guard when her sensual kiss turns to pain. It’smy turn to hiss as she sucks my tongue into her mouth, biting down on it fiercely until I taste copper.

I fist her hair, pulling her closer to me instead of away, taking all the pain she can give, my breathing ragged. I’m fucking obsessed with the pain she gives me. Little sister has another thing coming if she thinks that would make me pull away. My cock is harder than ever.

She pulls back on a gasp, my blood tinting her lips. “Sick bastard,” she gasps.

“Twisted bitch.” I smirk.

Her eyes widen for a second before they go hooded, and she smirks back sensually. “True.”

Her lashes flutter, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she keens, arching her back, legs shaking against the binds. Bastian groans, grinding his hips into the bed, probably aching for relief as she squirts all over his face. He keeps going until she screams, telling him to stop, tears welling in her eyes.

He lifts his head, gasping for breath, covered in her cum. I fist his shirt, pulling him up her body before running my tongue over his chin and lips, tasting her off him. He willingly lets me, poking out his tongue in a challenge, his eyes on her. I hear her whine, feeling the movement of her legs as she tries to create some friction, clearly turned on from her big brothers playing together. I suck his tongue into my mouth, catching every drop of her left.

“Just hurry and finish the tattoo before I spontaneously combust,” she snaps.

Releasing Bastian, I chuckle as she throws her head back onto the pillow, moaning in frustration. I slip into the chair beside the bed, grabbing her bound hand and picking up the tattoo gun. I perfected tattooing when I was a teenager and Bastian wanted to get his first one. He started getting tattoos for me.

I’ve always had an obsession with my siblings—the need to protect them, to be there for them, for them to be mine and no one else’s. I wanted to brand them so everyone knew they were not to be touched, so they knew they could never belong to anyone else. On a drunken night in our teens, I let it slip to Bastian what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t with tattoos. No, it was carving them up and scarring them in beautiful patterns as their blood spilled.

The next day, Bastian told me it would be a bit too much for our little sister, but he didn’t make me feel like I was crazy. Instead, he gave me the idea of tattoos and told me his body was mine to do with as I pleased. I practised first on dead bodies so I didn’t mess it up, and when I gave Bastian his first tattoo, it calmed some strange part of me and developed a new obsession. Octavia doesn’t know how lucky she is that she’s only just getting her first ones now.

“There, all done,” I say, adding just two more dots that I’d been waiting to finish two orgasms ago.

“That was it? You couldn’t have done that half an hour ago?” Octavia says indignantly, cracking open an eye.

I chuckle as I stand, unzipping my trousers, and Bastian does the same. “I could have, but then I wouldn’t have been able to watch your body shake uncontrollably or hear all the ways you plan to kill us.”

Bastian laughs wildly as she swears, gripping his shaft tight as he kneels between her legs. I place my hand in front of her mouth as I order, “spit.”

She licks her lips, eyeing my hand. “Slowly,” she mutters.

“Slowly what, pretty girl?” Bastian asks, jerking his cock faster.

She flicks her gaze back and forth between us, her doe eyes becoming more like sirens. “When the time comes, I plan to kill you slowly, making it last weeks, dragging out your deaths untilthe point your body smells and looks like a corpse while you’re still alive.”

“Shit,” Bastian grunts, fucking his fist, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Spit!” I bark, on the verge of coming without touching myself just at that visual of Octavia drenched in our blood, standing over us manically, unhinged, bloodthirsty for revenge. It’s the sexiest thing I can imagine.

She leans forward, spitting onto my hand, and I quickly wrap it around my cock, rubbing my shaft quickly as my balls tighten, lightning shooting down my spine as my orgasm hits me. I grunt out my release, aiming it at her face, and she opens her mouth as she wiggles, catching my cum on her tongue. Bastian curses, his hips stuttering watching us before he paints her cunt with white ropes.

As soon as he finishes, he dives back between her legs, cleaning his cum off with his tongue as Octavia whines, keeping her mouth open and cum-splattered tongue out. She raises an eyebrow, waiting. I wrap my hand around her throat, enjoying her cut off gasp for air. I drag my tongue up her neck, catching the small droplets of cum there, slowly making my way to her mouth before devouring it all, capturing my saltiness and swallowing.

“Good boys,” she croaks as I let her go.

Bastian chuckles between her legs, resting his chin on her beautiful soft stomach. “Oh, pretty girl, you are playing with hellfire calling our big brother that.”

She smirks evilly, giggling as Bastian tickles her sides. I grasp her chin, and she gives me her best innocent look, trying to stifle her laugh. “It’s a good job we have things to do, or I would tattoo my entire face all over your back for that little remark.”

Her laugh dies quickly, eyes widening. “You wouldn’t?” she stutters, and I raise my eyebrow. “Oh, fuck, you would. It justslipped out—post orgasmic insanity, you could say.” She cringes, batting her lashes at me.

“Has he arrived?” Bastian asks, all signs of playfulness gone.

I let go of Octavia’s chin, shaking my head. “No, but it will be sooner than he said, I think. We need to get ready.”

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