LOGIN“Say it,” he growled, voice low and dangerous, his thick cock buried deep inside me, stretching me so full I could barely breathe. I was bent over the couch in nothing but my collar, thighs shaking, pussy dripping down his balls as he pounded into me without mercy. “I’m your little sister…” I gasped, voice breaking as another brutal thrust made me see stars. “And I belong to you.” Damien’s hand tightened around my throat from behind, pulling me back against his chest while he fucked me even harder. “Louder,” he demanded, biting my ear. “Tell me whose forbidden cunt this is while I breed you.” “It’s yours!” I cried, tears of overwhelming pleasure running down my face. “My step-brother’s pussy… please fill me up… breed your little sister!” He groaned like an animal and slammed into me one final time, flooding my womb with thick, hot cum as I screamed and came harder than I ever had in my life clenching around the cock I was never supposed to take. That was only the first night. ⚠️⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️⚠️ This collection is not for the faint of heart. Inside these twenty stories you’ll find step-siblings breaking every sacred rule, best friends’ fathers claiming what doesn’t belong to them, professors turning innocent students into personal fuck pets, cousins hate-fucking through a snowstorm, nannies collaring powerful men, ruthless CEOs owning their employees on office desks, blackmail turning into dark obsession, and weddings being deliciously ruined from the inside. If “yes, big brother” or “please, Daddy” makes you blush… close this book right now. If the thought of being completely ruined by someone you’re never supposed to crave makes you wet… welcome to Twenty Shades of Sin, baby. One-click if you dare.
View MoreOhh my brother's dick!
Chapter 1: The Return My thighs were already sticky when the knock came at 2:17 a.m. I was sprawled on my bed, legs wide open, the thick veined dildo still buried deep inside me. My pussy clenched around it in lazy aftershocks, milking every last drop of the orgasm I’d just ridden hard while imagining a man who didn’t give a fuck about rules. My breath was ragged. my cum was coated all over my fingers and leaked down between my ass cheeks onto the sheets. The room smelled like sex and the vanilla candle I’d lit to cover it up. I wasn’t supposed to be this filthy. Not Ellie Voss. The good girl. The one who sent her mother heart emojis every night and kept her grades perfect. But the moment I was alone, the real me came out, dripping, greedy, aching to be ruined by someone who would take without asking. The knock sounded again. Who the fuck is that! I hissed to myself. And it didn't sound like the polite tap of a delivery guy. My heart slammed against my ribs. I yanked the dildo out with a wet pop, shoved it under the pillow, and quickly wiped my soaked fingers on my silk robe. My clit was still pulsing, sensitive and swollen, every step sending little jolts through me as I crept downstairs. The porch light was on. Through the frosted glass I saw a tall, broad silhouette. Shoulders that looked like they could carry my entire weight without effort. Tattoos crawling up the side of his neck. I knew who it was before I opened the door. Damien. My step-brother. He stepped inside the moment the lock clicked, bringing the smell of night air, cigarette smoke, and something darker , prison, danger, pure male. Four years had turned him into something else entirely, he was looking harder and bigger. The boy who used to tease me was gone. This man looked like he ate good girls like me for breakfast. “Ellie.” His voice was low, rough, like gravel dragged over concrete. His eyes were dark, and hungrily dragged down my body. The thin robe did nothing to hide how hard my nipples were, or the way my thighs pressed together, still slick from what I’d been doing minutes earlier. “You’re back,” I whispered. My voice came out breathy. What a very traitorous thing. He closed the door behind him and locked it. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet house. Mom was in Dubai for three weeks. We were completely alone. “I’m staying here.” He dropped a black duffel bag on the marble floor. “And you’re going to help me with something.” I swallowed. My pussy gave another involuntary flutter, remembering every secret fantasy I’d had about him since I turned eighteen. The ones where he pinned me down and told me I belonged to him. The ones where he filled me until I couldn’t walk. “What… what do you need?” I asked, trying to sound normal. But my cheeks were burning and I could feel fresh wetness sliding down my inner thigh. Damien stepped closer, fuck to close. He towered over me now. One hand came up, not touching me, just hovering near my throat like he was thinking about it. His gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, to where my robe had slipped open enough to show the top of my breasts. “I owe some very bad people a lot of money,” he said flatly. “Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. They know about this house and they sure do know about you and the only way I keep them from coming after you as collateral… is if you belong to me. Completely.” My stomach flipped. My clit throbbed so hard I almost moaned. “Belong to you?” I breathed. My mind was screaming danger, but my body was screaming yes. I could still feel the ghost of the dildo stretching me, but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. He leaned in. His breath brushed my ear. “Thirty days, little sister, you would submit and you do what I say. You let me use you however I need to keep you safe. After that… we’re even.” I should have slapped him. I should have called the police. Instead, my pussy clenched so tight another trickle of slick ran down my leg. He noticed. Of course he noticed. A dark smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re already wet, aren’t you, Ellie?” I didn’t answer, there was no way I could. My thighs trembled. He reached past me and switched off the hallway light, plunging us into near darkness. Only the moonlight through the big windows lit his face sharp jaw, new scar on his cheekbone, eyes that looked like they’d seen hell and come back hungrier. “You’ve grown up,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower. “Try not to make this harder than it has to be.” He stepped back, picked up his bag, and headed for the stairs like he already owned the place. Like he already owned me. I stood there in the dark, heart hammering, pussy dripping, nipples aching, knowing two things for certain: One: I was in serious trouble. Two: I was going to say yes. And the moment I did… there would be no going back.Chapter 4: Weekend BreakingThe helicopter ride to Marcus’s private estate felt like the final nail in my coffin. I was on all fours in the spacious cabin, completely naked except for the heavy leather collar locked around my throat, the silver tag reading “Marcus Vale’s Pet” dangling between my breasts. A thick tail plug stretched my ass, the soft silicone tail brushing my thighs with every vibration of the rotors. The remote vibrator strapped over my clit buzzed intermittently, keeping me right on the edge but never letting me fall.Marcus lounged in the leather seat above me, leash clipped to my collar, one hand idly stroking my hair like I was an actual dog. Every time I tried to shift or close my legs, he tugged the leash sharply.“Pets stay presented,” he reminded me calmly. “Ass up, back arched, cunt on display.”I obeyed, cheeks burning with humiliation even as fresh slick dripped from my pussy onto the helicopter floor. By the time we landed on the sprawling private grounds a
Chapter 3: Office PetThe drive to the office the next morning was pure torture.I sat in the back of Marcus’s private town car, thighs pressed tightly together, the thick silicone tail plug still lodged deep in my ass. Every bump in the road made it shift and press against sensitive walls, sending sparks of unwanted pleasure up my spine. Under my crisp white blouse and tight black pencil skirt, I wore nothing else except the thin leather harness that held a small but powerful vibrator strapped directly over my clit. The remote was in Marcus’s pocket, of course.The collar had been replaced with a more discreet day version, a thin silver chain with a small locked pendant that rested just below my collarbone. It looked like expensive jewelry to anyone else. To me, it was a brand.My pussy was already soaked. Marcus had plugged me with a small cum-load from a quick morning fuck before sending me off, and the fullness in both holes made me feel like the whore he kept calling me.I walked
Chapter 2: First TrainingThe marble floor was cold against my palms and knees as I crawled toward him, the remnants of his cum from the boardroom still slowly leaking down my inner thighs. The collar around my neck felt heavier with every movement, the silver tag bouncing lightly against my throat like a constant reminder: *Property of Marcus Vale*.I hated how my body responded. My pussy clenched with every shift forward, nipples tight and aching under the remains of my torn blouse. My clit throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I was furious, humiliated, and so fucking wet it was embarrassing.Marcus stood in the center of the massive open-plan living area, leash in hand, watching me with dark, satisfied eyes. When I reached his feet, he clipped the leather leash to the ring on my collar and gave it a gentle tug.“Good girl. First rule: pets don’t speak unless given permission. You bark, whimper, or stay silent. Understood?”I glared up at him but nodded.He smiled. “Good. Now strip.
Chapter 1: The TakeoverThe boardroom smelled like expensive leather, stale coffee, and the slow death of everything I’d built.I sat at the head of the long mahogany table in my sharpest charcoal suit, legs crossed tightly, trying to project the same ruthless confidence that had gotten me to COO at thirty-one. Around me, the remaining executives looked shell-shocked. Pink slips were already being printed. Vale Tech had swallowed our company whole in a brutal hostile takeover, and the vulture responsible was currently lounging in my former chair like he owned the fucking universe.Marcus Vale. Twenty-eight years old. Billionaire playboy with a face carved by the devil himself and a reputation for breaking both companies and women. Dark hair, sharper jawline, and cold green eyes that hadn’t left my face since he walked in.“Miss Reyes,” he drawled, leaning back, fingers steepled. “Your projections are impressive. Shame they’re built on a sinking ship.”My jaw tightened. “We were turnin
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