Morning had broken. My eyes fluttered open slowly, heavy with exhaustion, and I glanced toward the clock—9 AM. *Wow, I slept in today.* Usually, I'm up by seven sharp, my internal alarm never failing me. But last night... last night had drained me completely. The fatigue had wrapped around me like chains, refusing to let me wake.
Pale sunlight filtered through the curtains of my London bedroom, casting soft golden streaks across the hardwood floor. Outside, the cold British wind whistled through the slightly cracked window, and I could tell the rain from last night had finally stopped. The air smelled fresh but carried that damp chill that London mornings are famous for.
I tried to sit up, but my body protested immediately. *Pain.* Sharp, throbbing pain radiated through every muscle, every joint. I winced and looked down at myself—and shame washed over me like a cold wave.
My nightgown was torn, hanging off my shoulders in tatters. Oil stains marked my skin, dried and sticky. And between my legs... *God, the heat.* My pussy still felt warm, swollen, as if last night's memories had physically imprinted themselves onto my flesh. The bed sheets told their own sordid story—bloodstains, white sticky residue, and the unmistakable scent of sweat and sex clinging to the fabric.
I ignored it all. I didn't have the strength to deal with this mess right now.
My brother Alex had already left for the office—I knew because he's nothing if not predictable. Every morning at 7 AM sharp, he's out the door in his crisp suit, briefcase in hand, heading to manage our family's billion-dollar empire. His routine never changes. Never wavers.
I forced myself out of bed, pulling on a simple t-shirt and pants, trying not to think about how every movement sent jolts of pain through my core. My legs trembled as I stood, like the ground beneath me was shaking. My pussy ached with a deep, burning soreness—swollen from last night's intensity. Every step felt like needles pricking my inner thighs.
Holding onto the wall for support, I slowly made my way out of my room, limping down the hallway. Our mansion felt enormous and empty in the morning light—high ceilings, marble floors, expensive artwork lining the walls. Sometimes I hated how big this place was. Too many rooms. Too many shadows.
"Lily! Breakfast is ready! Come here!" Sophia's voice rang out from the dining area, sweet as honey but with an edge I couldn't quite place.
My sister-in-law. Alex's wife. *Sophia.*
I limped toward the dining table, gripping the doorframe for support. She stood there waiting, perfectly put together as always—hair styled, makeup flawless, wearing a elegant morning dress. But it was her smile that made me pause. That mysterious, almost predatory smile playing at the corners of her lips. Her eyes sparkled with something I couldn't identify—amusement? Satisfaction? *Malice?*
"What's wrong, Lily? You look so... weak," she said, her tone dripping with mock concern.
I grabbed onto her arm for support, and she helped me to the dining chair, sitting me down gently. The breakfast spread before me was beautiful—toast, fresh fruits, scrambled eggs, coffee. But my appetite had vanished.
As I picked up my fork, Sophia leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So... did you enjoy yourself last night?"
Her eyes danced with mischief. With *knowing.*
And just like that, everything came rushing back. Last night. Alex's touch. The pain mixed with pleasure. The overwhelming sensations. And *Sophia*—standing in the doorway, *watching.* She had orchestrated the whole thing!
Rage exploded inside me like a bomb going off.
"You set me up!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "You did this on purpose!"
Before I could think, my hands shot out and grabbed fistfuls of her perfectly styled hair. I yanked hard, my body fueled by pure fury despite my weakness.
"You bitch! You planned this whole thing!"
Sophia gasped, then started *laughing*—that horrible, mocking laugh that made my blood boil. She grabbed my wrists, and suddenly we were fighting, really fighting. Pushing, pulling, scratching. Our clothes tore in the struggle—my t-shirt collar ripped, her dress sleeve split down the seam.
She was stronger than me, or maybe I was just too exhausted. Within moments, she had torn away my bra and panties, leaving me half-naked and exposed.
And then she laughed even harder, her eyes fixed between my legs.
"Oh my God, Lily! Look how red and swollen it is!" She doubled over with laughter, pointing at my pussy like it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. "Did my husband *destroy* you last night?"
Humiliation burned through me hotter than rage. Tears pricked my eyes.
She reached down and spread my pussy lips with her fingers, examining me like some kind of specimen. I cried out in pain—everything down there was so sensitive, so raw.
"There's still blood... and cum inside you," she observed clinically, then looked up at me with that theatrical, mocking expression. "Oh dear, Lily. Did you get hurt? Here, let me *clean* it for you."
Recognition hit me like a slap. *Yesterday.* I had said those exact words to her when I... when I cleaned *her* pussy. She was throwing it back in my face. Taunting me. Getting her revenge.
"You're despicable!" I tried to shout, but my voice came out weak and broken.
Suddenly, nausea rolled through my stomach in a violent wave. Too much food? The emotional turmoil? I couldn't tell. But I felt like I was going to throw up.
I stumbled toward the bathroom, but Sophia caught me from behind, steadying me.
"Oh my God, Lily!" she exclaimed, her voice full of fake shock. "You're *pregnant!* You must be!"
*Pregnant?*
The word hit me like ice water. Terror flooded my veins.
"What? No!" I sobbed, tears streaming down my face now. "That can't be true! If I'm pregnant, I... I won't be able to face anyone. What will Mom and Dad say? They'll disown me! The family reputation will be destroyed!"
I'm only nineteen. I don't know anything about these things. What if she's right?
Sophia pulled me close, stroking my hair in a gesture that might have seemed comforting if I didn't know better. "Calm down, Lily. Shh, it's okay. I'll take care of everything."
"How?" I whispered desperately.
"My younger brother is a doctor—Damien. I'll call him right now and have him come here. He'll examine you privately. No one else needs to know."
That mysterious glint appeared in her eyes again, but I was too scared to notice. Too desperate to question it.
"Really? He'll come here?"
"Of course. Just wait."
She walked into the other room to make the call, leaving me standing there, half-naked and terrified. Through the door, I could hear her voice, low and urgent.
"Yes, Damien. She's fallen right into the trap. Come quickly."
But I didn't hear those words clearly. I was too lost in my own panic, my own fear. *What if I really am pregnant? What will happen to me?*
Sophia returned, her face arranged in an expression of reassurance. "He's on his way. Come on, let's get you cleaned up and ready."
She led me to the bathroom, helped me into the shower. The hot water felt good against my aching body, but when she touched my swollen pussy while washing me, she let out another little laugh that made my skin crawl.
After the shower, she dressed me in fresh clothes and led me to the guest room—one of the many spare bedrooms in our massive mansion. We sat together on the bed, waiting.
The silence in the house was oppressive. Every creak of the old building sounded ominous. Every shadow seemed to hide a secret.
*Is David behind this?* The thought came unbidden. David—my father's business rival, the man who's been trying to destroy our family for years. Could he have somehow gotten to Sophia? Paid her off?
But why? And how does this stranger "doctor" fit into it all?
The doorbell rang, sharp and sudden.
Sophia jumped up, practically running to the door. I heard it open, heard voices—one male, deep and unfamiliar.
Then footsteps. Multiple sets.
Sophia walked back into the guest room, and behind her came a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark skin and darker eyes. He carried a medical bag in one hand, and his other hand... his other hand was already reaching for Sophia.
"Damien! You came!" She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Too tightly for a professional relationship.
*Something's wrong here.*
"Come, sit down. I'll get you some water," Sophia said sweetly, then disappeared again.
Now it was just me and this stranger. This "doctor."
Damien stared at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. His eyes traveled slowly from my face, down my neck, across my chest, lingering on my thighs. I suddenly felt naked again, even though I was fully clothed.
"Hello," I whispered.
He smiled. A cold, calculating smile.
Sophia returned with a glass of water, which he drank slowly, never taking his eyes off me. When he finished, he stood up, his full height towering over me.
"Let's begin the examination," he said.
He took my wrist, feeling my pulse. His fingers were cold. Then, without warning, his hand slipped under my t-shirt, cupping my breast, squeezing.
"What are you doing?!" I yelped, trying to pull away.