Chapter 10: The Morning After Exam
The click of the front door was the loudest sound any of them had ever heard. It severed the last tether to normalcy, to the outside world’s clinical judgments. They were alone again, sealed in the sticky, humid truth of the bedroom.
Dominic hadn’t moved. His softening cock was a heavy, foreign plug inside her, the mixed remnants of his climax and his piss a warm, shameful bath her body couldn’t shed. The doctor’s order hung in the air like a law: No movement. Just let gravity and chemistry do their work.
An hour. Sixty minutes.
Valentina stared at the water stain on the ceiling, a Rorschach blot that shifted from a screaming face to a mangled flower. Her hips were still propped on the pillow Catalina had shoved beneath her. Every slight, involuntary clench of her sore cunt made her aware of the slow, leaking trickle down the cleft of her ass. She felt like a vessel, left on a shelf to settle.
Catalina’s hand, still resting on Valentina’s hair, began to move again. Not a comfort. A restless, hungry fidget. Her other hand was tucked between her own thighs, hidden by her skirt, but the subtle rock of her hips was unmistakable. She watched the place where her daughter and her brother were joined, her breathing shallow.
“You hear that, baby?” Catalina whispered again, as if trying to convince herself. “You’re doing so well. Your body knows what to do.”
Dominic let out a long, shuddering breath. The chemical fire was banked, leaving a smoldering ash of self-loathing in its wake. He felt the incredible, violating intimacy of this enforced stillness more acutely than the frantic fucking that preceded it. He was trapped inside his child, a prisoner of his own biology and his sister’s desperate plan.
“My arm’s going numb,” he grunted, his voice gravel.
“Don’t you dare move,” Catalina said, her tone sharpening. “You heard her. An hour. You pull out now and it all spills out. It’s wasted.”
“It’s been twenty minutes, Cat.”
“Then there’s forty left.”
Silence descended again, broken only by the wet, soft sound of Catalina’s fingers moving faster beneath her skirt. The scent of her arousal, tart and familiar, began to mix with the other odors in the room. Valentina closed her eyes, wishing herself away.
But her body, traitorously, was responding. The initial shock and pain had subsided, leaving a deep, throbbing ache. The warm fullness was not entirely unpleasant. A slow, creeping heat was gathering low in her belly, a residual echo of the violent orgasm he’d ripped from her. She hated it. She squeezed her eyes tighter.
Catalina noticed. A flush had risen on Valentina’s chest. A faint tremor in her inner thigh.
“Look at her, Dom,” Catalina breathed, her own movements ceasing. She leaned closer, her gaze analytical, hungry. “Her body wants it. Even now. It’s trying to pull you in deeper.”
“Stop it,” Valentina whimpered.
“It’s just biology, mi vida,” Catalina murmured, her hand leaving Valentina’s hair to trail down her neck, over her collarbone. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Your cunt is so smart. It’s holding onto him for dear life.” Her fingers traced the line of Valentina’s sternum, down to her belly, pressing lightly on the lower abdomen. “Right here. This is where it’s happening. Where his seed is swimming up into you.”
Dominoc groaned, a sound of pure agony. “Catalina, for Christ’s sake.”
“What?” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “We’re past pretending this isn’t what it is. We’re past delicate.” Her hand slid lower, through the coarse, damp curls, until her fingertips brushed the swollen, slick flesh where Dominic emerged from their daughter. She felt the heat, the incredible softness stretched taut around him. “God, she’s still so open.”
Valentina jerked, a small cry escaping her. “Don’t touch.”
“It’s okay,” Catalina cooed, but her touch was not comforting. It was exploratory. She ran a single finger around the stretched rim, collecting the mixture of fluids. She brought it to her mouth, her eyes locked on Valentina’s horrified face, and sucked it clean. “It’s working. I can taste it. It’s different.”
Something in Dominic broke. The visual of his sister tasting his spend and his piss from their daughter’s body was a violation that somehow exceeded all the others. A raw, animal sound tore from his throat. Despite the order, despite the logic, his hips gave a minute, involuntary thrust.
It was barely a movement. But inside Valentina, it was a seismic shift. The renewed friction on her oversensitive, hormone-flooded tissues was a lightning bolt. A sharp, startled gasp was punched from her lungs.
Catalina’s eyes widened, then gleamed with frantic triumph. “You see? You feel it, don’t you? You need it.”
“I don’t,” Valentina sobbed, but her body was betraying her. A fresh gush of wetness seeped around Dominic’s cock, easing his slight movement. Her inner muscles, against her will, gave a feeble, fluttering clutch.
“The hour isn’t up,” Dominic ground out, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of staying still.
“Fuck the hour,” Catalina hissed. Her calm was gone, shattered by a frenzied obsession. “She’s ripe now. Her body is begging for it. You’ll waste the peak!” Her hands went to his hips, her nails digging into his skin. “Move, Dominic. Fucking move. Breed her properly. Right now.”
She pushed him.
It was a small force, but it was the permission his starved, conflicted body needed. With a shattered cry that was part prayer, part curse, he obeyed.
He pulled back, a slow, dragging withdrawal that made Valentina whimper at the loss of fullness, the cool air on her flooded channel. Then he sank back in, not with the earlier brutal force, but with a deliberate, deep, grinding push.
“Oh, fuck,” Valentina moaned, her hands flying to his forearms, not to push him away, but to hold on.
“That’s it,” Catalina urged, scrambling onto the bed beside them. She shoved the discarded pillow harder under Valentina’s hips, arching her up for a deeper angle. “Get it all back up in there. Don’t let a drop out.”
Dominic set a new rhythm, a slow, relentless, deep-stroking fuck. Each thrust was aimed, purposeful. He was no longer a man lost to chemistry; he was a man executing a terrible, sacred duty. The wet, squelching sounds were obscenely loud. Valentina’s cries melted from pain into a high, continuous keen. Her legs, which had lain limp, rose to clamp around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back.
Catalina was everywhere. Her hands were on Valentina’s breasts, pinching and pulling at the nipples. Her mouth was at Valentina’s ear, whispering filth and encouragement. “Take your father’s cock, baby. Take your uncle’s seed. Milk it out of him. Your pretty little cunt is made for this, just like mine was. Pull that baby deep, deep inside.”
She was touching herself again, frantically, her knuckles rubbing against Dominic’s driving hip with each of his thrusts. The camera’s red light watched, a silent, impartial witness to the complete collapse of the doctor’s protocol, to the family’s surrender to a darker, more instinctual script.
Dominic felt his orgasm building again, a tide rising from a deeper, more profound well than the drug-induced one before. This one was laced with a lifetime of twisted love, with grief, with a hopeless, damnable hope. He looked down at his daughter’s face, contorted in a pleasure she never asked for, and saw his sister’s eyes staring back from a younger face.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words ripped from him. “I’m so sorry, Val.”
But his body didn’t stop. It drove forward, claiming, planting.
“Don’t be sorry,” Catalina snarled, her own climax hitting her, making her body convulse against them. “Give it to her. Now!”
With a final, shuddering roar, Dominic emptied himself. This climax felt endless, a volcanic eruption of pent-up guilt and biological imperative. He pushed so deep he felt her cervix yield a fractional, kissing pressure against his tip. He held there, pulsing, flooding her, until he was spent and hollow.
He collapsed, but this time, Catalina was there. She shoved at his shoulder. “Not on her. Off. Now. Keep it in.”
Panting, he rolled to the side, his softening cock slipping free with a wet, sucking pop. A rivulet of white immediately escaped from Valentina’s gaping hole, tracing a path down to the soiled sheets.
“No!” Catalina snapped. She pressed her hand firmly between Valentina’s legs, cupping her, pushing upward. “Legs together. Hold it. Just hold it.”
Exhausted, trembling, Valentina pressed her thighs together. She felt impossibly full, achingly used. The room stank of sex and sweat and desperation. The red light of the camera blinked once, then went dark, its memory card full.
Catalina slumped back against the headboard, her chest heaving. She looked from her brother’s ravaged face to her daughter’s tear-streaked one. She placed a trembling hand on Valentina’s belly again, pressing down as if she could already feel a change.
“It’s done,” she whispered, a fierce, broken certainty in her voice. “It’s really done this time.”