Ingrid and Helena's training continues.

THE **** BRANDING – THE INCUBUS MARK

The following evening, the museum’s private archives lay in perfect silence, the air thick with the scent of old parchment, myrrh, and the lingering musk of the previous night’s debauchery.

"What a perfect time for breeding..."

Stefano stood before an ancient Egyptian ritual slab, his fingers tracing the carvings of bound priestesses as he waited.

Then—the door creaked open.

Helena stepped in first, the hot Swedish blonde's towering frame draped once more in that deceptively modest sweater, her voluptuous curves hidden beneath layers of fabric that did nothing to dull the hypnotic sway of her wide flared hips. Behind her, Ingrid followed, the young woman's blue eyes already glazed, her lips slightly parted in anticipation.

"O-Ohgod, why did we come back here? W-What if... will we even be able to leave this time?" A mental echo, Helena seemed to be the brightest of the two, she understood how dire their situation was... The Nordic sisters were playing a dangerous game, and the stakes would only get higher this time.

Stefano’s golden eyes gleamed in the dim light.

“You came back,” he murmured, stepping forward, his deep baritone a velvet blade that slithered into their minds like smoke. “Did you miss me?”

Helena’s breath hitched as his fingers brushed her cheek, the hypnotic rings on his hand pulsing faintly. She tried to speak, but her words dissolved into a soft moan as his thumb pressed against her lower lip.

“No need for words,” Stefano murmured, his other hand sliding beneath her sweater, his palm engulfing the insane swell of one G-cup breast, his fingers sinking into the impossibly soft flesh. “Your body speaks for you.”

Helena’s knees nearly buckled as he pinched her nipple through the lace of her bra, her full lips parting in a silent gasp.

“Strip.”

The command rolled through the room like thunder, and the sisters obeyed instantly.

Helena’s sweater hit the floor first, followed by the loose dress that had hidden her sinful curves. As the fabric pooled at her feet, Stefano’s breath caught—even after yesterday, the sight of her naked was staggering.

Her breasts hung heavy and proud, their weight making them sway slightly even when she stood still, the pink-brown areolas puckered with arousal, the nipples stiff and begging for attention. Her waist nipped in dramatically before flaring out into wide, child-bearing hips, the kind meant to be gripped during rough mating. Lower still, her thick thighs framed a glistening cunt, her blonde curls damp with anticipation.

Ingrid, already nude, pressed against her sister’s side, her smaller body trembling as Stefano’s gaze raked over them both.

“Kneel,” he commanded, nodding toward the ritual slab.

The sisters dropped to their knees, their bare skin pressing against cold stone, their eyes locked onto his hardening cock as he freed himself from his slacks.

“Today,” Stefano murmured, stroking his length slowly, “you become mine. Properly.”

From a hidden compartment in the slab, he withdrew two ancient branding irons, their tips glowing with otherworldly violet fire. The symbols carved into them pulsed—incubus sigils, marks of eternal ownership.

Helena’s breath quickened, her huge tits rising and falling as Stefano stepped closer.

“This will hurt,” he admitted, his free hand tangling in her hair, “but you’ll love it.”

Then—he pressed the first brand to the swell of her left breast, just above her nipple.

Helena SCREAMED, her back arching violently as the burning sigil seared into her flesh, the scent of scorched skin mingling with her jasmine perfume. But even as tears streamed down her face, her hips ground forward, her cunt dripping onto the stone below.

“O-Ohmygod!” she sobbed, the voluptuous beauty's massive tits shaking with each ragged breath.

Stefano chuckled darkly, slapping the second brand against Ingrid’s inner thigh, making the younger girl shriek. “You belong to me now,” he growled, watching the marks glow with infernal energy, sinking into their very souls.

Then—he flipped Helena onto all fours, her ass raised high, her pussy and asshole glistening under the dim light.

“Time to claim the rest of you.”

With no preparation, he plunged into her ass in one brutal thrust, his cock splitting her tight ring of muscle with unforgiving ****.

Helena HOWLED, her nails scraping the stone, her tits swinging wildly beneath her as Stefano set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into her jiggling asscheeks with enough **** to leave handprints.

“F-FUCK! IT BURNS!” she wailed, but her body betrayed her, her walls clamping down on his shaft like a vice, her cunt dripping with each thrust.

Stefano reached around, his fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing rough circles as he bred her ass. “You were made for this,” he snarled, his other hand groping her dangling tit, squeezing hard enough to make her sob. “Made to be fucked, used, owned.”

Helena’s third orgasm ripped through her like lightning, her asshole spasming around his cock, her scream echoing off the ancient walls.

But Stefano wasn’t done.

“Switch.”

He yanked his slick cock from Helena’s ruined ass, turning to Ingrid, who was already spread eagle on the slab, her tiny body trembling.

“P-Please!” she begged, her brand still glowing faintly on her thigh.

Stefano sheathed himself in her ass with a snarl, her tight little hole stretching obscenely around his girth. Ingrid screeched, her toes curling, her cunt squirting onto the stone below as he pounded her into oblivion.

Back and forth he went—Helena’s gaping ass, then Ingrid’s clenching rectum, then back to Helena, her G-cup tits slapping against her chest with each brutal thrust.

When his release finally came, Stefano buried himself in Helena’s ass one last time, his cum flooding her bowels as the incubus brand on her breast pulsed with dark energy.

“Mine,” he growled, pulling out only to pump his remaining load into Ingrid’s ass, watching his seed leak from her well-used hole.

The sisters collapsed, their bodies marked inside and out, their souls bound to him forever.

Stefano tucked himself away, admiring his work.

“Perfect.”