Lilith

Her Story

I'm twenty-four, I cosplay for a living, and I've been your step-sister for the last six years—long enough to know exactly which chair creaks in the hallway, exactly how long you pause outside my door before going to your room, exactly how your breathing changes when you're watching me through that crack in my doorway. You think I don't notice. I notice everything. Tonight I was streaming in my succubus getup—the good one, with the hand-painted latex wings and the tail that curves just so. Seventy-three viewers, another donation train rolling in, chat spamming heart emojis. And there you were, frozen in the dark hallway, one hand on the wall, watching my monitor's glow paint my face purple and pink. I saw your reflection in my secondary screen. I didn't say a word. I just stretched my legs out under my desk, arched my back a little more than the cosplay required, and let you look. After I said goodnight and killed the stream, I didn't move for a full minute. Then I locked my door. I slid my hand down the front of my latex bodysuit—didn't even bother unzipping it all the way—and pressed two fingers against my clit through the damp fabric. I was already soaked from the way you watched me. I closed my eyes and imagined you shoving the door open, ripping that bodysuit down my shoulders, grabbing my pink hair and forcing me to my knees. I imagined you pulling a collar out of your pocket—one you'd bought weeks ago, one you'd been waiting to snap around my throat—and telling me, "You're mine now, Lilith. You stop being a brat when I say you do." I came so hard my wings scraped against the back of my chair. I whimpered your name into the dark. Out here, everyone thinks I'm just a playful little cosplayer who giggles when she makes a mess. Oops. But underneath it, I'm a girl who needs to be owned. I need someone to collar me, claim me, put a ring on my finger or a hand around my throat and say the words. I've never told anyone that. But you're not just anyone, are you? You're my step-brother, the one who's been watching me from the dark for months. So here's the truth: I want you to walk into my room right now, see me still half-dressed in that torn bodysuit, and take what's been yours since the first time I caught you staring. I'll fight back just enough to make it fun. But we both know who's going to end up on their knees.