Chapter 183 Stepsisters 2

Chapter 183 Stepsisters 2
The elevator opened directly into Victor’s penthouse, a cavern of glass and steel forty-seven floors above the city. Midnight pressed against the windows on three sides, turning the skyline into a glittering bruise of neon and shadow. Elena stepped out first, heels clicking across the poured-concrete floor, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the vastness of the space.
Victor waited in the center of the living room, shirt unbuttoned to the sternum, a heavy crystal tumbler of something dark in one hand. Behind him, the chaise longue (an antique thing upholstered in blood-red velvet) had been dragged beneath a single spotlight. Silk ropes lay coiled on its seat like sleeping snakes.
Liana was already there.
She stood at the window, completely naked, city lights striping her skin in electric blues and violets. Her back was to them, spine a perfect arc, ass round and tight, legs slightly apart so the glow caught the faint sheen between her thighs. She didn’t turn when the elevator chimed. She didn’t need to. She knew exactly what she looked like.
Elena’s breath caught, just for a second.
Victor’s voice rolled out, low and amused. “Drink?”
Elena shook her head. She walked forward until she stood beside Liana, close enough to smell the faint trace of jasmine oil on her skin. Close enough to see the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
“You came prepared,” Elena said.
Liana finally turned. Her eyes were darker than Elena remembered, pupils blown wide. “He told me to.”
Victor set his glass down with a soft clink. “Blindfold,” he said simply.
He didn’t wait for permission. The black silk slipped over Elena’s eyes from behind, knot tight at the back of her head. Darkness swallowed everything. She felt his hands on her wrists next, guiding them behind her back, the ropes cool and smooth as they looped and cinched. Not cruel, but there was no give. She tested once. Nothing.
Fingers (Victor’s) brushed the zipper of her dress. The sound of it descending was slow, deliberate. Cool air kissed her spine. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but black lace panties and the ropes.
She heard Liana’s inhale, sharp and hungry.
Victor’s mouth grazed her ear. “Tonight you don’t speak unless I ask you a question. Tonight you don’t move unless one of us moves you. Nod if you understand.”
Elena nodded.
She felt the chaise beneath her shoulder blades as he lowered her onto it, wrists still bound behind her, forcing her chest up. The velvet was warm from the spotlight. Her legs dangled over the edge, heels brushing the floor.
Then silence. Long enough that her skin began to prickle.
A soft rustle. Bare feet on concrete. The faint scent of jasmine grew stronger.
Liana’s weight settled onto Elena’s hips, knees bracketing her ribs. Slick heat pressed against Elena’s stomach (Liana was already drenched). Elena’s mouth watered behind the blindfold.
A single fingertip traced Elena’s lower lip. Liana’s. Then it was gone, replaced by the wet sound of fingers sliding into a mouth that wasn’t hers. Liana moaned, low and filthy.
Victor spoke from somewhere to the left. “Show her what she does to you.”
The weight shifted. Liana rose, knees sliding forward until she straddled Elena’s face. The first touch of her pussy against Elena’s lips was electric (hot, swollen, dripping). Elena opened instantly, tongue flattening to take the weight of her.
Liana sank down with a broken exhale, grinding slowly at first, smearing herself across Elena’s mouth, nose, chin. Elena licked deep, tasting salt and need, circling Liana’s clit with the flat of her tongue before sucking it hard between her lips. Liana’s thighs trembled. She braced her hands on the back of the chaise and began to ride in earnest, hips rolling, breath hitching every time Elena’s tongue speared inside her.
The camera shutter started (soft, rhythmic clicks that matched the wet sounds of Elena’s mouth on Liana’s cunt).
Victor’s voice again, closer now. “Slower, Liana. Make her work for it.”
Liana obeyed, rising up until only the tip of Elena’s tongue could reach her. Elena strained upward, desperate, but the ropes held her fast. Liana teased her like that for what felt like hours (tiny circles, barely there licks), until Elena was growling into her, frustration and lust braided tight.
“Please,” Elena rasped, the word torn out of her before she could stop it.
Victor’s laugh was dark. “I didn’t ask you a question.”
A sharp slap landed on Elena’s inner thigh, high enough to sting, low enough to make her clit throb. She jerked, and Liana took pity, sinking down fully again. Elena attacked her like a starving thing, tongue fucking deep, nose grinding against her clit until Liana’s rhythm stuttered.
She came with a sharp cry, hips snapping forward, flooding Elena’s mouth. Elena swallowed greedily, licking her through the aftershocks until Liana was shaking too hard to stay upright. She slid down Elena’s body, collapsing against her chest, lips finding Elena’s in a messy, grateful kiss that tasted of both of them.
The blindfold came off.
Victor stood over them, camera hanging from one hand, cock straining against his trousers. His eyes were black with hunger.
He untied Elena’s wrists with quick, efficient movements. Blood rushed back into her hands, pins and needles sharp. Before she could rub them, he hauled her up by the upper arms and spun her, bending her over the arm of the chaise. Her cheek pressed into the velvet where Liana’s wetness still glistened.
Cool air on her ass as he dragged her panties down to mid-thigh. Then the blunt, impossible heat of him nudging at her entrance. He didn’t ask. He simply pushed in, one long, punishing stroke that forced a guttural sound from Elena’s throat. She was soaked; he slid home like he belonged there.
His hand fisted in her hair, arching her back as he set a brutal pace. Each thrust slammed her hips into the chaise, the angle perfect, devastating. She felt Liana move beneath her (heard the soft rustle as the girl wriggled down until her face was under Elena’s clit).
The first swipe of Liana’s tongue made Elena scream into the velvet.
They worked her in tandem: Victor pounding into her from behind, Liana licking and sucking whatever she could reach (Victor’s shaft as it emerged slick from Elena’s body, Elena’s clit, the stretched rim of her pussy). Elena lost track of where one sensation ended and the next began. She came hard, clenching around Victor, vision whiting out, but they didn’t stop. Victor pulled out only long enough to flip her onto her back, legs shoved wide.
Liana climbed up, straddling Elena reverse, facing Victor. She reached back, spread herself open so Victor could watch as she sank down onto Elena’s waiting tongue again. Victor groaned, lined up, and thrust into Liana in one brutal motion. The force rocked her forward, grinding her clit against Elena’s chin.
Elena wrapped her arms around Liana’s thighs, holding her in place while Victor fucked her hard enough that the chaise creaked beneath them. Liana’s moans turned into sobs, her second orgasm building fast. Victor’s hand snaked around, found Elena’s clit, rubbed tight circles until Elena was coming again, hips bucking wildly.
He pulled out of Liana, slick and shining, and shoved into Elena without pause. Three strokes, four, and Liana was coming, squirting across Elena’s chest in hot pulses. Victor growled, slammed deep one last time, and followed her over, spilling inside Elena with a curse that sounded like prayer.
They didn’t stop.
Positions blurred. Elena rode Victor reverse while Liana knelt behind her, fingers buried in Elena’s ass, tongue tracing where Victor disappeared inside her. Then Victor took Liana against the floor-to-ceiling window, her palms flat on the glass, breath fogging the city view while Elena held her legs open from behind, whispering filth against her ear (Come on his cock again, baby, let the whole city see what a perfect little slut you are).
Hours slipped by unmarked. They left bruises shaped like fingerprints, bite marks, long red scratches. Sweat cooled, was replaced by fresh sweat. The spotlight burned hot on skin.
Eventually they collapsed in a heap on the wide rug, limbs tangled, chests heaving. Liana lay between them, Victor’s hand idly stroking her breast, Elena’s fingers tracing lazy circles on Liana’s thigh. The city lights flickered over their bodies like a private aurora.
No one spoke.
There was nothing left to say, and everything still to take.