A NONCON Family Incest Erotica Short Story with BDSM (collared, restraints, whip), MM action and double penetration.

The bass thrums through the walls, rattling picture frames and making the floor tremble beneath my feet. People are everywhere-laughing, shouting, and grinding against each other on the makeshift dance floor in the living room. It’s loud, chaotic, and exactly what I thought I wanted. But here I am, leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at my phone like the rest of the world doesn’t even exist.

On the screen is a photo that’s been eating me alive all night-Connor, my 23-year-old brother who's only a year older, and our dad, smiling like they’re the perfect pair. They’re at some artsy exhibit out of town. Connor’s stupidly perfect caption glares up at me: “Road trip with Dad! Art exhibition weekend-let’s go!”

I scowl and lock the screen, but the image is burned into my mind. Of course, Connor is Dad’s favorite. Of course, he gets the father-son bonding time, the proud looks, and the constant attention. It’s always been that way. Connor is the golden child, the prodigy. He can paint a blob on a canvas, and Dad will gush like it’s the next Mona Lisa. Me? I could move mountains, and Dad would still barely notice.

It stings more than I want to admit, even to myself. This party? It’s my way of saying, “Screw you both.” If they’re off having the time of their lives, then I can have fun, too. Right?

Staring at that picture makes it hard to enjoy anything. My chest feels tight, like there’s a knot I can’t untangle, no matter how many people laugh and scream around me.

“Kira!”

Layla’s voice cuts through the fog in my brain. I glance up to see her striding into the kitchen, her wild curls bouncing with each step. Her sharp eyes flick to my phone, and she smirks knowingly.

“You’re brooding again,” she accuses, plucking my cup out of my hand. “What is it this time? Let me guess-Connor’s stupid Insta post?”

I groan. “It’s not a big deal.”

She snorts, leaning against the counter beside me. “Oh, please. You’ve been staring at that thing all night. Don’t tell me it doesn’t bother you.”

“It doesn’t,” I lie, crossing my arms.

“Uh-huh,” she says, her smirk widening. “So you’re totally fine with your dad driving Connor to his fancy art thing and leaving you behind. Totally fine with him acting like Connor hung the moon while you’re… what? Invisible?”

Her words hit harder than they should. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “I don’t care,” I snap, though my voice wavers.

“Yeah, right.” Layla nudges me with her elbow. “Well, guess what? You’re here, and they’re not. So stop sulking and enjoy your party for once.”

I roll my eyes, but she grabs my phone out of my back pocket before I can argue.

“Layla!” I shout, reaching for it, but she darts out of my reach with a laugh.

“You’re not getting this back until you start having fun,” she says, grinning like the devil.

“Layla, give it-”

“Nope!” she interrupts, shoving the phone into her pocket. “Now get your ass on the dance floor.”

She grabs my arm and drags me into the chaos of the living room. People are everywhere, the music blasting so loud it feels like it’s coming from inside me. Layla shoves me into the crowd, her grin daring me to complain.

“Dance, Kira. Live a little.”

The music changes to something faster, heavier, and the crowd surges with it. I try to push my way back to the kitchen, but Layla blocks me, moving her hips dramatically and clapping her hands in my face.

“Come on!” she shouts over the music. “You threw this party! At least pretend you’re having fun!”

People start cheering us on, chanting, “Kira! Kira!” It’s impossible to ignore, and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s kind of… fun. I let out a reluctant laugh and start moving to the beat. Layla whoops, spinning around me like a whirlwind.

The energy of the crowd is infectious, and before long, I’m laughing and dancing like I don’t have a care in the world. Someone hands me a drink, and I take a long sip, the alcohol burning pleasantly down my throat. The knot in my chest loosens, and for the first time all night, I’m not thinking about Connor or Dad.