Forced to be my sisters lover in a reverse world-Chapter 29: dark

I was in the middle of a bite when Elara dropped the bomb. "Remember that girl I told you about who paid like 70 bucks for a pussy rating? Well, turns out she ended up paying some random hooker, and oh my God, he told her that her pussy felt like absolute dog shit."
I nearly choked on my food, laughter erupting from deep in my chest. "No way! That must've stung like hell to hear." I wiped my mouth with a napkin, still grinning. "What'd she say after that?"
Elara smirked, her fork hovering over her plate. "Oh, she said that she tried to play it cool, said she came like ten times in just five minutes. I bet the guy was fuming."
She went back to slicing into the steak and potatoes I'd cooked for us. The smell of seared meat and garlic butter still lingered in the air, and I could tell she was savoring every bite.
The steak was a perfect medium-rare, just the way she liked it, with a crispy crust from the cast-iron sear. The potatoes were roasted with rosemary and a touch of sea salt, golden and crisp on the outside, fluffy inside. It was her go-to comfort meal, and I'd nailed it tonight.
"Wow, Noah," she said, her voice warm as she looked up at me with those appreciative eyes. "I can never get enough of your steak. Seriously, you're such a good cook. I'd marry you just for this meal if I didn't already love you for a million other reasons." She grinned, taking another slow, deliberate bite, letting out a little hum of satisfaction.
Elara sliced off another bite, savoring it with another small hum of satisfaction. The way her eyes fluttered shut for a second made me smile—she always acted like my cooking was some kind of luxury meal.
"I swear, you could open your own restaurant," she said between chews. "People would line up just to get a taste of this."
I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. "If I did, you'd probably scare off half the customers."
Elara smirked, spearing another piece of steak with her fork. "That's fine. More for me." She reached across the table, brushing her thumb along my wrist affectionately. "You always take such good care of me, you know that?"
"Only the best for the love of my life," I said, winking at her. We'd only finished... well, you know, about an hour ago, yet the thought of her still made my body hum. There was something about the way she looked at me—like I was the only person in the world—that made it impossible not to want more.
"You want more..." she purred, her eyes narrowing with that playful, knowing glint that always made my pulse quicken.
"Later," I teased back with a small grin. "Enjoy your food, Elara."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the faint smile tugging at her lips, then returned to her plate, eating contently while the room settled into a comfortable quiet.
-
(Sara pov)
"Sara, I promise I won't be mad if you just tell me the truth. You don't have a boyfriend, do you?" my mom pressed, her voice calm but edged with that same judgment I'd heard a hundred times before. Perfect timing, as always — I hadn't been able to keep a single meal down since I got sent that video from Elara.
"I-I do. I swear, he's just... confused right now," I said quietly, poking at the soggy Chinese food she'd ordered.
She sighed — that heavy, disappointed kind of sigh that said more than words ever could. I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn't care anymore.
"Don't you think it's time you got a job, Sara? You could use something productive — instead of just staying home all day doing nothing but watching Vtubers and... other things."
I clenched my fork tighter. "No. I don't want to," I muttered, staring down at my plate. "Maybe some other time..."
"God, Where did I go wrong with you..." The clink of her fork hitting the wooden table echoed through the room, her fingers lacing together in front of her mouth like she was praying for patience.
I sneered inwardly — acting like she was some saint after everything she'd done. I hated how easily she brushed off her sins, like they were just... small mistakes.
"Maybe if you hadn't raped my father he—" I started, but the words caught in my throat as her fist slammed against the table, rattling the silverware and jolting the air between us.
"You shut up. No more talking from you," she said, her tone sharp and cold.
The sound might've scared me years ago — back when I was ten and still thought mothers were supposed to protect you. Now, it barely made me blink.
We ate in silence, the only sound the scrape of silverware against porcelain. Her eyes lingered on me across the table, sharp and heavy with something almost sinister.
"I'm going out. I'll be back by midnight," she said flatly, standing up and setting her dirty plate in the sink with a dull clatter.
"Going out to fuck some guy?" I muttered, not even looking up from my food.
Her footsteps stopped. Then she turned back, leaning down until her face was inches from mine. I could feel the heat of her breath.
"I'm going to work," she hissed, "to maintain the daughter who hates me."
For a moment, I thought she'd hit me — her hand twitched like she might. But instead, she straightened up and stormed out. The door slammed behind her, the sound reverberating through the house like a thunderclap.
"Stupid fuck..." I muttered under my breath, my fingers twitching with frustration as I yanked my phone from my pocket. I started tapping out a message to my crew of based Stacy's, the only ones who got me. It was the only thing keeping my mind off the vivid, intrusive images of Noah getting absolutely dominated by Elara, her hands all over him, dominating every inch of his sorry ass.
My phone buzzed. One of my girls, Tara, texted me with a wicked grin emoji. "Found some primo vids of moids getting wrecked. You're gonna lose it." My reply was instant. "Send them NOW." Nothing got my blood pumping like watching those pathetic stuck ups get what they deserved.
I tapped on the first video she sent, my heart rate spiking as the grainy footage loaded. It was a scrawny schoolboy, probably no older than eighteen, cornered in a schoolyard by four girls who looked like they owned the place.
They smirked, circling him like predators, their hands grabbing at his shirt, pinching his arms, slapping his face just hard enough to make him flinch. "Come on, don't be a little bitch," one of them taunted, her voice sharp and mocking. "You know you want it. Just let us have some fun."
He stammered, "P-please, just leave me alone," but they weren't having it. One of them grabbed his hair, yanking his head back while another shoved him hard against the brick wall. The camera shook a bit, probably the camerawoman getting off on recording this. They dragged him, kicking and whimpering, into a nearby alleyway, out of sight from anyone who might care to stop them.
The video got messier, more raw. They tore at his clothes, ripping his shirt off first, then yanking his jeans down to his ankles. He was exposed, trembling, tears streaking down his face as they laughed. "Look at this sad little thing," one girl sneered, grabbing him roughly while the others held him down. "Bet you've never been touched like this, huh?" They didn't hold back, taking turns, violating him right there in the grime of the alley as he choked out helpless sobs.
Watching it sent a jolt through me, a dark, electric rush of adrenaline I couldn't shake. This kind of forbidden content was pure gold—raw, unfiltered, and wrong in every way that felt so right.
I gripped my phone harder, imagining myself stumbling across Noah in a similar spot while out with my femcel crew. We wouldn't hesitate. I could almost hear my own voice, cold and cutting, "Get up, loser. You're ours now." We'd drag him somewhere quiet, strip him down, make him beg just like this kid. The thought alone made my pulse race even faster.
I clicked on the next video Tara had shared with me, my heart racing with anticipation. This one showed a mother, her face twisted with a mix of anger and lust, striking her son—probably around nineteen, judging by his lean build—and forcing herself on him in what looked like his cluttered bedroom. Posters of bands and boyish things lined the walls, a stark contrast to the raw, depraved scene unfolding on the bed.
Damn, it was insanely hot. My pussy pulsed hard, aching as I watched the boy struggle under her, his face a mix of shock and pain while she took complete control, wrecking him with every brutal movement.
"I pushed you out of my vagina, so I fuckin' own you, kid," she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice dripping with dominance as she slammed into him, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the speakers. "You're mine to do whatever I damn well please with." Her hands gripped his wrists tight, pinning him down as she rode him relentlessly, her eyes wild with power.
I clicked off the video reluctantly and froze for a second, noticing forty more lined up, each one a testament to Tara's ridiculous research skill. Holy shit. This was going to be one intense, steamy night.