A room comes with a cost - Part 3 - Sexgeschichten

A room comes with a cost - Part 3

Es handelt sich um eine fiktionale Geschichte.

Wer ein Problem mit Erniedrigung, Erpressung, sexuelle Übergriffe etc. hat sollte diese Geschichte nicht lesen.

Über Feedback würde ich mich freuen.

Part 1

Part 2

Viel spaß beim Lesen und bleibt Gesund :)

A Room Comes with a Cost: Part 3

The clock on the microwave glowed 11:47 PM, casting a sickly green light over the kitchen table where Mike sat nursing his third whiskey. The house was quiet... too quiet after the storm of the evening. Sarah's door had clicked shut hours ago, her footsteps heavy with exhaustion as she'd muttered a goodnight and vanished into her room. He could still picture her in that tank top and panties, the faint red handprints blooming on her ass like accusations as she'd vacuumed the living room. The way her thighs had trembled, the subtle sheen between them... No. He shook his head, taking a swig that burned down his throat. Focus. Money's tight. Rules'll fix this.

"Boys, I want to speak with you about Sarah."

Liam and Steven looked at each other.

"About Sarah? What's in your mind?"

"She's out cold now. The little cleaning had her totally exhausted. And I want to use the opportunity to speak with you about her. She's slacking a lot, lies to me and backtalks in every situation. I said I want to implement tomorrow some new rules for her."

"Dad," Steven started low, leaning forward, "we can't let her slack like today.She's fightin' it... needs real motivation. But we have ...

... an idea. We have made a video you have to watch."

Mike rubbed his temples, the whiskey not dulling the unease twisting in his gut.

"Video? What the hell are you..."

Liam cut in, snatching the phone from his brother and thumbing it open before Mike could protest. The screen lit up their faces in harsh blue: Sarah, flushed and tear-streaked, hands laced behind her head, her tank top bunched over her bra. Her black lace panties clung transparently, the damp spot glaring under the room's light. And there, stuffed in her mouth... her own crusty panties, the fabric bulging her cheeks as she mumbled around it.

"Mmm sorree... my pushy ish shoakin' weh... fank oo for motivatin' me."

Her voice cracked, garbled and pathetic, but the whimper at the end? Undeniable. A soft, involuntary buck of her hips against nothing.

Mike's breath hitched, his grip tightening on the glass. He leaned closer despite himself, the image searing: her C-cups heaving, nipples like diamonds through the bra, thighs pressed together in a futile hide. The boys had captured it all... the shame, the squirm, and yeah, that traitorous glisten. His cock twitched under the table, unbidden, and he shifted, heat crawling up his neck. She's my stepdaughter. Family. But the power... god, the control after years of scraping by, the ex's ghost still mocking him.

"Turn it off," he growled, voice rougher than intended. "Now. That's your sister."

Steven smirked, pocketing the phone.

"STEP-sister.", he ...