Little Stranger: A Dark Taboo Romance
Little Stranger: Part 2 – Chapter 13

Why did her biological mom need to give her such a difficult fucking name?

Out of the millions of names she could have chosen, she picked one with four goddamn syllables? Did she not think of all the people out there who would struggle? The ones who need speech therapists or just settle on using sign language?

If her mom wasn’t already dead, I’d kill her for calling her fucking Olivia.

I stare at the letters, tracing my finger over them. “O-liv-a,” I say, shaking my head. “O-lay-ve-a.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I grit my teeth. Why the fuck can’t I say it properly? I know how to say her name, but when I try to sound out the letters, my tone shifts, and I fuck it up.

What if I shortened it? She thinks my name is Kai. My real name is Malachi, by the way, not Kai, but she thinks that. What if I called her Liv?

“Liv,” I say, grimacing. “Oli…via.”

Closer.

I sit up straight and puff my chest and try to say it all as one word. “Ol-i-vara.”

My confidence drops. Fuck off.

I scrunch up the paper, toss it in the trashcan, and light a cigarette, filling my lungs with the smoky poison while I watch my sister through my phone screen. She’s hanging from the basement ceiling, chains on each wrist, a collar around her throat, ankles shackled with a spreader keeping her legs apart. She looks beautiful in her little goth-bride costume with her panties shoved into her mouth.

She’s been hanging there for hours while I made sure our bedroom was ready. It is, and I can’t wait to share the bed with her.

I pull on a black balaclava, chewing on some gum as I look in the small, cracked mirror on the wall. She might recognize my eyes, so I put the gas mask over the top of the balaclava, slide my gloves on, and head down to the basement with a sandwich and glass of water.

My heart rate spikes when I open the door to the basement and see her, even though she’s out cold, her mascara and black lipstick smeared all over her pretty face.

I place the plate down and stand in front of her, tipping her chin back and pulling the panties from her mouth. She breathes, her eyes fluttering, and I smile at her—not that she can see me—and bring the glass of water to her lips.

She gulps down each drop, and I wipe my gloved thumb over her lips and down to the collar on her throat. I was going to attach her to my cock or my wrist, but I want to give her some free will, for her to want to come to our bedroom with me. Just not yet. She hasn’t earned it yet.

Her eyes open properly, and she sucks in air as the realization that she’s chained up and stuck in place hits. “What the fuck?” she croaks. She looks down at her legs, at the spreader keeping them wide open. “Let me go!”

I shake my head and gather the sandwich in my hand, bringing it to her mouth. “Eat,” I demand. “It’s… good.”

I clear my throat, annoyed with myself for fumbling a little on my words. She clamps her mouth shut, so I pinch her nose and shove the sandwich in when she finally parts her lips for air.

You need to eat, darling sister, or this will end sooner than planned. You need to stay healthy, hydrated, and well fed, while I make you suffer for stealing eight years from me.

I mean, I want to say that to her, but I have no idea how.

Instead, while she chews on the sandwich, I lower my free hand to her cunt, gliding my fingers through the wetness there. Always so wet. Fear always turns her on. And pain. I know between her legs and her back hole must be sore, and her jaw probably is too from how harshly I fucked her mouth.

She whimpers around the sandwich as I slip a finger inside her.

It’s been around ten hours since we left the festival. I already sent messages to her friends to say she went home with her biker friend and that she’d reach out soon. I also saw an opened email from Mom with details for her first date with Xander.

My dear sister should be meeting her future husband tomorrow, but it’s a shame she’ll be sucking her brother’s dick instead.

I add another finger, and she tenses everywhere. “Hmm,” I hum, forcing the rest of the food into her mouth to gag her then slowly unclipping the front of her corset. Each clip makes her tits spill out the top, and when I get enough of them undone, she’s writhing in the chains, trying to rock her hips into my hand, while I pinch her nipple.

I twist it, and she screams around the sandwich, spitting it out and gasping, “Please. Please.”

I pull my fingers out of her and walk towards the small table, lifting a knife next to the plate, and I twirl it in my hand as I turn to her. She’s crying again, her pussy soaking her thighs, and I smirk under my mask, blood rushing to my dick.

I walk behind her, and she fights against the chains to watch me, to see what I’m doing, but she’s trapped. I clench my jaw to stop myself from severely hurting her, causing her more pain than she can handle, as I cut the rest of her corset off then press the point of the blade to her spine.

She trembles in only her skirt, the pathetic scrap of material easily ripped off with my hands and thrown aside too.

Her naked body has always been my heaven. Somewhere I don’t belong, somewhere I shouldn’t taint or cut, but as I walk round her and bring the sharp edge of the blade to her nipple, I slice carefully, making her stiffen everywhere as a trickle of blood slides down her stomach. I do the same to the other, and she moans in both pain and pleasure.

Her eyes land on me. “Take your mask off.”

I shake my head, even though a shock of anxiety hits me. If she finds out it’s me, what would she do? I’m having too much fun right now to ruin my hidden identity.

“If you take it off, I’ll suck your dick.”

I frown and stop walking around her. “What?”

My voice is deeper—a warning tone I’ve never heard from myself before.

She has no idea who I am, and she just offered to blow me in exchange for me taking off my mask. I clasp her chin in a firm hold, bringing the knife to her throat and pressing the sharp edge to her pulse. I want to slice it open, deep and gaping, to see her blood spill down her body. But I also want to kiss her, goddammit.

“I have a brother,” she says, her eyes watering. “If you hurt me, he’ll find you.”

“Yeah?” The thrill going through me right now is fucking ecstatic. She just threatened me with myself—she thinks I’ll save her.

My gaze drops to the locket sitting between her breasts, and she gasps as I snap it from her neck. “No!”

I open it, staring at the picture of our younger selves, shoving it in her face. “Him?”

“Y-Yes,” she cries. “Please don’t break it. Please.”

“You love him?” My pronunciation stays firm.

“He’s my brother,” she replies, her bottom lip trembling. “Of course I love him.”

I laugh—really fucking laugh, in a way I’ve never done before. My laughter is usually silent, a shake of my body while I smile, but this time it’s loud, my head thrown back, a genuine grin on my face.

This fucking…

How can she say she loves me after destroying what we had?

I grip my mask and pull it off, and her face falls when she sees the balaclava. “A deal…” I stop, my tone already fucking up. “Is… a deal.”

She watches me throw the gas mask aside, and I walk to the wall all the chains are connected to and loosen the ones on her wrists and collar, making her drop to her knees, her legs still parted wide from the spreader.

Her hair, if I wasn’t wearing fucking gloves, would be so soft in my hold. I grip it while I stand in front of her.

The basement isn’t bright, a shitty lamp to the side giving it a soft glow, so she can’t see my piercings or eyes properly. I free my cock, grip her jaw firmly, and shove it into her mouth.

This time, I let her do the work. On her knees and in chains, the blood drying from her nipples, her pussy drenched, she wraps her slender fingers around the base of my cock and takes as many inches as she can. I’m not small and definitely not of average size, so the fact she can deep-throat my length is impressive.

I close my eyes and bask in the feeling of her sucking my dick, her other hand on my thigh, grasping, her throat contracting around my thickness. She chokes, but I grab the back of her head and hold her there until I feel myself getting close.

I don’t want to finish yet, so I pull back and tuck my cock into my waistband, and tap her cheek with a light slap, chuckling as she glares at me.

“You’re pierced.”

I stare at her, not gracing her with a reply. Inside, I’m panicking. I don’t have a normal piercing either. I have multiple, five bars like a ladder positioned up the underside of my cock and a hoop at the tip. I got my ears stretched a little when I got out of prison, tattoos on my neck and hands, but other than those changes since I was nineteen, nothing about me is different.

She wipes her mouth. “Give me back my locket.”

Give me back my eight years, I want to say, but I ignore her.

She tries to stand on shaky legs and fails, so I help her by pulling the chain back into place, taking her off her feet completely. I wet my lips and grab a cigarette, watching her dangle from the ceiling, the collar choking her but not enough to kill her. She’s gasping for air while I light a cigarette, inhaling and blowing the smoke against her pussy.

It clenches, and I smirk to myself as I bring my cigarette to her mound, just above her clit, and press the burning end to her skin. Only for a split second, but it’s enough to make her scream a strangled scream—then moan as I drag my tongue up her glistening slit and suck on the area I just burned.

She’s… aroused. More aroused.

So she likes that kind of pain too?

I leave a little trail of burns on her skin, all the way to her breasts and brand my initials just under them, and kiss and lick each mark until my cigarette is finished. I palm at her tits, biting her nipples and breaking skin, and her entire body trembles as an orgasm hits her. Her thighs are tense, and I watch her pussy clenching on thin air, her body rattling in the chains as I shove two fingers deep to bring her orgasm to its absolute peak.

She passes out right after, but I keep going. I lick at her clit, adding a third finger, fucking into her with them as I massage her ass.

Then I pull my fingers out and walk behind her to kneel, parting her ass cheeks with my hands and using the wetness from her cum to lube up her puckered hole. It’s staring right at me, like it wants to have a conversation, so I silence it by burying my tongue inside.

She screams awake, and I grin to myself as I drag one last orgasm out of her.

This is going to be so fun, Olivia.

I’m sitting on my chair, waiting for her to wake up. It’s been three hours, and I’m bored.

Standing, I grab another chain and hook it on the ceiling behind her, pulling it between her legs and ringing it through a hoop I installed to use as a pulley. I sigh, watching her for a minute, then yank the chain, making it ride between her legs and bring her off her feet.

The yelp she lets out makes me chuckle.

Her clit is trapped between two of the chain links, and I see a spot of blood. It looks good on her—red is definitely her color.

I lick the spot, and she flinches. “You fucking psycho!”

Good—fight back, little sister. Don’t give in.

She tries to knee me in the face, but the chains stop her. I pull the chain between her legs higher, and she squeals, even though I can see how soaked she already is.

She’s quite the masochist, and I love it, because I think I’m a sadistic bastard.

Olivia is biting back a moan as I drag my tongue up her ribs, stopping at her nipple. I suck on the tip, happy to see both nipples are already hard as stone. “You love pain,” I say perfectly, and I want to pat myself on the back. “I love pain.”

“Whatever, asshole,” she snaps, pulling at her restraints. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. When he finds out where I am, because he will, he’ll come for you.”

I smirk and tap her cheek. Stupid woman. Stupid, beautiful, smart woman I want to spend rest of my life with.

On her tiptoes, she absently moves her hips forward, so the chain grinds against her pussy, and I sit back on my chair again and watch, lighting a cigarette. “Keep going,” I demand, reaching under my waistband to fist my dick, stroking as she rubs herself over the chain.

It’s rubbing against her ass too, and her eyes are rolling as she gives in. She’s dirty, and fucking sexy, I’ll give her that. I also want to fuck her back hole.

I stand and walk around her—she seems too engrossed in getting herself off, only pausing her hip movements when I step up behind her, parting her ass cheeks so I can watch the chain between them.

I reach forward and loosen the chain, hooking my finger through the links between her ass and moving it over one of her ass cheeks. It’s still against her cunt, but now I have access to her ass.

I spit, the saliva rolling down her back to her hole, then shake my head and walk back to the table. I grab my knife, roll my sleeve up enough to show a little tattooed skin, and cut into my flesh as she gasps.

Behind her again, I let my blood trickle down her back, spreading it all over with my palm, watching it seep into the crevasse of her ass.

My cock is pulsing, and I pull it out, stroking it a few times with a bloody fist before lining up with her ass.

She fights against the chains again, but I don’t hear her cries or moans or anything as I nudge the head of my cock into her back hole. Little by little, it grips me, and fuck, it’s tight. Tighter than her cunt. I’ve never done this before, never fucked an ass, and I assumed it would be like sliding into Olivia’s pussy.

I’m greatly mistaken. This is by far the best thing I’ve ever felt. It hurts with how narrow the tunnel of her ass is, clenching around each inch I manage to push in. She’s crying, begging me—for what, I don’t know. I’m more focused on how glorious it looks thrusting into her hole.

Blood is still trickling from my wrist, and I coat her back with it then unfasten her collar and grab her throat, fucking her while the chains rub against her pussy.

She’s shuddering in my hold, tears sliding against my hand as my blood stains her chest. Fuck, I can’t see properly, and my moans are deep, loud, husky. I think I might need to stay in her ass forever.

It’s official. I, Malachi Vize, hereby swear to be an ass man now. Forever and always, I will gratify my needs by burying my cock in my sister’s tight back hole.

Her orgasm hits, and I can feel it in her ass. It get tighter, so much so I fear my dick might get stuck or snap in half, but that’s fine. I’d gladly die here.

Do you see this, Dad? I’m buried inside my sister again, and there’s fuck all you can do to stop me.

My eyes roll to the back of my head as I fill her ass with my cum. I hold it there—deep, throbbing, pulsing each string of cum from my body—as she sobs her heart out, begging me to stop.

I lean forward and disconnect the chain, and she cries even more when I pull my cock out of her ass. I smile at my handiwork. The blood. The cum. The tears. I’m nearly finished here, and when I’m done, Olivia will swear herself to me forever.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.