She continues to look through

Julia’s fingers trembled as she swiped back to the new folder on her phone—Riley – Submission Collection—the video still paused on that frozen frame of her daughter’s tear-streaked, cock-stuffed face. Below it, a subfolder labeled Text Proof – Begging had appeared, timestamped minutes ago.

She tapped it open.

A series of screenshots loaded in sequence—Riley’s messages to “Alex,” raw and unfiltered, each one more **** than the last.

Riley: I’ll be good. I swear. I’ll do anything you want. Just… please. I need to fuck you again. I need it.

And then the most recent one—sent only minutes ago:

Julia’s breath caught in her throat. Each plea was a knife—Riley begging the same man who’d turned Julia into a dripping, obedient mess, offering herself up with the same frantic need Julia had felt in his office, on her knees, **** on his cock while he filmed her ruin.

Jealousy surged again, sharp and ugly, twisting low in her belly alongside the fresh gush of arousal. Her daughter—eighteen, reckless, already so far gone—was pleading to be kept, to be used, to be his. Just like Julia had.

Before she could process it, another notification pinged—same folder, new screenshot uploaded in real time.

Alex (to Riley): Prove loyalty tonight. Go to your brother’s room while he sleeps. Suck his cock. Wake him with your mouth. Swallow every drop. Send proof. No excuses.

Julia’s heart stopped.

The screenshot showed Riley’s reply—simple, immediate, no hesitation:

Riley: Okay. I’ll do it.

Julia’s phone slipped from her hand again, clattering onto the mattress. She stared at the frozen text exchange—her daughter agreeing to sneak into Nick’s room, to take him in her mouth while he slept, to swallow him down like some twisted initiation ritual demanded by the same man who now controlled them both.

Horror should have paralyzed her. It didn’t.

Instead, heat exploded between her legs—vicious, immediate, shameful. Her clit throbbed so hard it hurt; her pussy clenched around nothing, fresh slick soaking the sheets beneath her already-damp ass. The image of Riley creeping down the hallway, slipping into Nick’s room, kneeling beside his bed, pulling down his boxers and taking that massive cock—the same one Julia had watched him stroke to thoughts of her—into her mouth… it was wrong. It was depraved. It was destroying everything.

And it made Julia so fucking wet she could barely breathe.

Her hand flew back between her thighs without conscious thought—three fingers plunging deep, thumb grinding hard circles on her clit. She pictured it: Riley’s lips stretching around Nick’s girth, the soft, sleepy moans he’d make, the way he’d twitch and buck in his dreams, whispering “Mom” again while his sister swallowed him whole.

Julia’s hips bucked off the mattress, a choked sob escaping her. She hated herself—hated the jealousy that Riley would taste him first, hated the dark thrill that both her children were now entangled in the headmaster’s web, hated how badly she wanted to be there, watching, touching, being used alongside them.

The orgasm hit like a freight train—harder than the last, harder than anything before it. Her back bowed, thighs clamping around her wrist, a raw, animal cry ripping from her throat as she gushed around her fingers, vision whiting out, body convulsing in wave after brutal wave.

When it passed, she collapsed onto the soaked sheets—gasping, shaking, tears streaming—staring at the phone screen where the screenshots still glowed.

Riley was probably already in Nick’s room. Julia didn’t move to stop her. She just lay there, leaking and aching, whispering into the darkness: “Please… let me be next.”