There was blood—not a lot, but enough to be concerning—seeping from between her legs. And mixed with it was something else: a white, thick substance, almost like yogurt, viscous and slightly glistening in the morning light. It had a faint, musky odor that I didn't recognize.
My medical instincts kicked in—or rather, what little I knew from health class. "Sophia, what happened? Did you fall? Are you having some kind of medical issue? I should call Dr. Morrison right now—"
"Lily, no—" she tried to protest, but I cut her off.
"Shh! No arguments. First, let's clean this up, and then we're getting you proper medical attention."
I went to the bathroom and returned with warm water, soft cloths, and gentle soap. Carefully, with as much dignity as I could preserve for her, I began cleaning her. The white substance was sticky, clinging to my fingers as I wiped it away. Her intimate area looked swollen, inflamed, as if it had been... rubbed raw? Roughly used?
The pieces were starting to come together in my mind, but I pushed the thoughts away. That couldn't be it. Could it?
Sophia moaned softly as I cleaned her, but it wasn't a moan of pain—it was almost like relief, like she was grateful for the gentle care after whatever had caused this condition.
After I finished, I helped her into fresh clothes—soft cotton that wouldn't irritate her skin. The entire process had taken nearly half an hour, and by the end, I was exhausted. My legs ached from crouching, my back hurt from bending over, and my hands felt cramped from the delicate work.
"Lily, you look exhausted," Sophia said, her voice soft and concerned. "Come here. Let me give you a massage. It's the least I can do after you took care of me."
"No, Sophia, you're the one who's hurt. You should rest—"
"I insist." Her tone left no room for argument. She patted the bed beside her. "Lie down. You've been so good to me. Let me return the favor."
Reluctantly, I complied, lying face-down on the silk sheets. They felt cool against my heated skin. Sophia's hands began on my shoulders, kneading the tense muscles there. Her touch was surprisingly strong, despite her condition, and I felt myself beginning to relax.
"Your clothes will get oil on them," she murmured. "Let me help you with those."
Before I could protest, she was lifting my dress over my head. Then my bra unclasped—I felt the release as my breasts fell free. And finally, my panties slid down my legs until I was completely naked on the bed.
A moment of panic shot through me. This was intimate, far more intimate than I'd expected. But Sophia's hands were already moving, spreading warm, fragrant oil across my back, and the sensation was so soothing that my concerns melted away.
She worked methodically—my back, my shoulders, down my spine. Then she moved to my sides, her fingers brushing the edges of my breasts. I felt my nipples harden in response, a tingling sensation spreading through my chest.
"Sophia..." I breathed, but I didn't tell her to stop.
Her hands moved lower—my waist, my hips, the curve of my backside. Then she was massaging my thighs, working the tension from muscles I didn't even know were tight. And then... her fingers brushed against my most intimate place.
I gasped. The sensation was electric, unlike anything I'd felt before. She was gentle, exploratory, her fingers moving in slow circles that made my entire body respond. I felt myself growing wet, heat pooling in my core.
"Does this feel good?" Sophia whispered, her breath warm against my ear.
"Y-yes," I managed to stammer. "Your hands... they're magic. Where did you learn to do this?"
She laughed softly. "From your brother, actually. He's the one with the real magic in his hands."
I sat up suddenly, forgetting my nakedness, my eyes wide with surprise and curiosity. "Really? You're serious?"
Sophia nodded, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. "Completely serious. And if you don't believe me, why don't you find out for yourself? Tonight, you sleep in my room, in my place. I'll take yours. See for yourself what kind of magic Alex can work."
My mind reeled. Was she suggesting what I thought she was suggesting? The idea was insane, taboo, wrong on every level. But the curiosity burning inside me was stronger than any moral objection.
"Are you... are you sure?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Absolutely. It'll be our little secret. Our little... experiment." Her eyes sparkled with something I couldn't quite identify—mischief? Excitement? Or something darker?
We spent the rest of the day in a strange, heightened state of anticipation. Every glance we exchanged carried weight, every casual conversation felt loaded with hidden meaning. The massive house seemed to pulse with the secret we now shared, as if the walls themselves were complicit in whatever was about to happen.
Was this normal? Could wealthy families like ours really operate by different rules? Or was there something darker at play here—something connected to the family business, to our enemies like David Blackwood, to secrets that ran deeper than I'd ever imagined?
The sun set slowly over London, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple that seemed almost ominous. I helped Sophia prepare dinner—grilled chicken, fresh salad, expensive red wine from Father's cellar. We moved around each other in the kitchen with a strange new awareness, our eyes meeting and darting away, smiles playing at our lips.
"Are you ready?" Sophia whispered at one point, when we were alone.
I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I was ready at all. Ready for what, exactly? To discover what happened behind my brother's closed door? To experience this "magic" that Sophia spoke of? Or to uncover some family secret that might change everything I thought I knew?
At ten o'clock, the front door opened. Alex arrived home, looking handsome and exhausted in his tailored suit. He was everything our family expected him to be—strong, successful, commanding. His presence filled the room in a way that made you sit up straighter, pay attention.
"Evening, ladies! Is dinner ready? I'm starving." His voice was warm, affectionate, with no hint that anything unusual was about to happen.
We sat at the dining table—a massive thing that could seat twenty but felt intimate with just the three of us. Candlelight flickered between us, casting dancing shadows on our faces. Alex talked about his day—the deals he'd closed, the millions in profit, the challenges he'd overcome. But I couldn't focus on his words. Under the table, Sophia's foot found mine, pressing against my ankle in silent communication.
I felt my pulse quicken. This was really happening.
"Sophia, you look different tonight," Alex observed, his sharp eyes taking in his wife. "Something's changed."
Sophia smiled mysteriously, her gaze flickering to me for just a moment. "Do I? Maybe it's just your imagination."
After dinner, Alex excused himself to shower and change. The moment he left the room, Sophia grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the master bedroom, moving faster than I'd seen her move all day, her earlier limping suddenly absent.
The room felt different now—charged with possibility and danger. The mirrors on the walls seemed to multiply our reflections infinitely, as if there were a hundred Lilys about to make this terrible, thrilling mistake.
Outside, rain began to fall again—London's weather matching the storm of emotions inside me.
Sophia closed the door and locked it. "Quickly now. He'll be done showering soon."
Her hands moved with surprising efficiency, undressing me piece by piece. My dress pooled at my feet. My bra came off next, my full breasts spilling free, nipples already hard with nervous anticipation. Then my panties slid down my legs, and I was standing there completely naked, vulnerable in a way I'd never been before.
My fair skin looked almost luminous in the dim light, my body on full display—the body that everyone said was perfect, that drew stares and whispers wherever I went. But now, looking at myself in those endless mirrors, I felt exposed, raw, on the edge of something that might change me forever.
Sophia threw a blanket over me and gently pushed me onto the bed. "Remember—keep the lights off. Don't speak, no matter what happens. Just... experience it. Feel everything."
"But Sophia—" I started, but she pressed a finger to my lips.
"Trust me. This will be incredible. Just don't let him know it's you." With that mysterious smile still on her face, she slipped out of the room, leaving me alone in the darkness.
The room plunged into shadow. I lay there under the blanket, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. Outside, rain pelted the windows with increasing fury. Inside, I was drowning in questions. What was I doing? This was my brother—my own flesh and blood. This was wrong, wasn't it? But the curiosity, the desire to understand what Sophia had experienced, what had left her bleeding and limping and satisfied—it was stronger than reason.
Minutes passed like hours. Then I heard the door handle turn.
Alex entered the room. I peeked out from under the blanket just slightly, just enough to see. He was holding his phone, using its flashlight to navigate the dark room. And as he moved, he began undressing.