The Offer
Copyright© 2026 by Tharnoren
Chapter 7
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 7 - College siblings Alan and Madison meet wealthy, provocative Rebecah at a wild night out. Her shocking offer—for them to indulge her taboo fantasy for cash—pulls them into a spiral of seduction, blackmail, and forbidden intimacy they can’t escape.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Blackmail Coercion Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Incest Brother Sister Humiliation Light Bond Rough Group Sex Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Spitting Slow Violence Illustrated
They had already been wandering the mall for over an hour, drifting from one store to the next without time ever seeming to drag. And strangely enough, everything was going well—too well, almost, to the point where it felt unsettling. Rebecah, with her infectious smile and casual remarks, had turned into the perfect shopping companion: sweet, easygoing, always ready to laugh at nothing. This time, she let none of her wealth show—no chauffeur lurking nearby, no offhand comments about outrageously expensive brands as if that were normal. She was just ... approachable. Like a regular friend they might have met on campus, not the girl who’d casually dropped thousands for an incestuous kiss.
They stepped into another store, a trendy clothing boutique with pristine white walls and racks heavy with light fabrics, perfect for summer. Alan dragged his feet a little, stealing discreet glances at Madison.
What the fuck is she doing? he wondered, hands buried deep in his jeans pockets. She seemed to have completely forgotten the whole point of this outing—squeezing a bit of cash out of Rebecah for a quick kiss, like she’d insisted the other night. Instead, she was chatting with her like this was just a friends’ hangout, laughing at her jokes, running her fingers over the fabrics with genuine interest.
Alan didn’t really understand why he was there, stuck in the middle of conversations about clothes that went right over his head, but Rebecah’s constant humor kept him going. She had a real talent for killing any awkward silence, for turning a mundane afternoon into something fun, almost addictive.
“Look at this top, Madi! It’s adorable, right? That V-neck and the subtle floral pattern ... it would look amazing with your complexion,” Rebecah said, pulling a white top off the rack and holding it up against Madison’s chest, flashing her a playful wink.
Madison studied it for a moment, fingers brushing over the silky fabric, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah, it’s nice. Light, perfect for hot days. And that summer jacket over there? The one with the fringe—it’s got kind of a boho vibe, don’t you think?”
Rebecah spun toward the jacket, a flowy beige piece hanging there like an open invitation.
“Oh, totally! Picture it with denim shorts and sandals. You’d look like a pro festival girl. Try it on, come on!”
The two girls slipped into animated banter, teasing each other about which colors worked best, laughing when Rebecah struck an exaggerated model pose, hips thrown out, lips pursed dramatically.
“So tell me, Madi—would you wear this on a date or just around campus? Because if it’s a date, I’m betting guys would be breaking their necks.”
Madison burst out laughing, shaking her head.
“A date? With my schedule? But yeah ... it’s tempting.”
Alan leaned against a wall near the fitting rooms, watching the scene with forced amusement. Rebecah was good—damn good. She asked the right questions, bounced off every answer like she’d memorized a handbook on perfect social skills. She complimented without overdoing it, teased without ever crossing a line, and within minutes, you forgot everything else: her creepy fixation, her insane propositions, the way she’d used money to manipulate them. She just seemed ... normal. Charming. The kind of person everyone invited to parties because she effortlessly lifted the mood. It was hard to resent her—or even remember that she was the half-crazy girl who fantasized about seeing them together.
Rebecah turned toward him, jacket still in hand.
“Hey, Alan—what do you think? On Madi, it’d look amazing, right? Picture her wearing it this summer.”
Alan shrugged, answering honestly without any particular awkwardness—it was just clothes, after all.
“Yeah, definitely. It fits her style, not too busy. But the white top’s better. It looks more ... I don’t know, fresh?”
Madison rolled her eyes, smiling anyway.
“Thanks for the expert opinion. Since when are you a fashion critic?”
Rebecah laughed, a bright, genuine sound that echoed through the shop.
“He’s not wrong, though! Come on, Madi—try them both on. We’ve got time.”
Madison hesitated, glancing at the price tag—not outrageous, but still more than she could afford right now, with her car in the shop and bills piling up. She shook her head, honest without making a big deal of it.
“Nah, it’s okay. I can’t really afford it at the moment. With the car and everything ... it’ll have to wait.”
Rebecah tilted her head, surprised but not condescending.
“Wait, seriously? Let me get it for you, then! It’s nothing, and it suits you so well. Consider it a gift for today.”
Madison stiffened slightly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Ironically, even though she’d come here with the idea of getting money out of Rebecah, having things paid for like this made her uncomfortable—as if it crossed some invisible line, made it too personal.
“No, Beca, that’s really sweet, but ... I don’t like that. I’m fine, really.”
Rebecah insisted, gentle but persistent, resting a hand on her arm.
“Come on, it’s just a jacket! No need to make it a big deal. And it makes me happy. Think of it as an exchange—you gave me a great afternoon, I’m just returning the favor.”
Alan watched the exchange, a faint frown creasing his brow. Madison finally gave in, muttering a reluctant “Okay, but just this once,” with a tight smile. The mood stayed light, though, Rebecah already cracking another joke to smooth over the awkwardness. ---
Alan watched Madison give in with a mix of surprise and growing irritation. She thanked Rebecah in a slightly stiff tone, carrying the folded jacket over her arm like some kind of awkward trophy, and the two girls went back to wandering between the racks—now debating a pair of skinny jeans that, according to Rebecah, would “make your already endless legs look even longer, Madi—guys are gonna drool.”
Trailing behind them, Alan felt his frustration rise. What the hell was this circus?
They were chatting like longtime friends, and Madison seemed to have completely forgotten the original plan. He waited for a moment when Rebecah drifted away toward a shoe display, absorbed by a pair of glittery heels, then grabbed his sister’s arm and gently pulled her into a narrow aisle between two shelves stacked with cashmere sweaters.
“Hey, Madi,” he murmured close to her ear, his voice low and urgent, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Rebecah wasn’t watching.
“I don’t get it. You were supposed to get money out of her, right? That was the whole point of coming here, for fuck’s sake. And now you’re just letting her buy you a jacket like it’s no big deal?”
Madison stiffened instantly, her cheeks flushing with a burning embarrassment, almost like she’d been caught doing something wrong. She turned toward him, eyes darting away, and whispered back—her voice trembling with anger turned inward, a strange mix of frustration and self-blame that made her stumble over her words.
“I know, okay? I know. It’s insane, I just ... I can’t. She’s not the same person, Alan. How am I supposed to do that? I thought about it all week—how to bring it up—but now ... she’s so nice, so normal. I didn’t plan how to say it without sounding like a leech. And now ... I’m completely stuck.”
Alan frowned, thrown off by her sudden vulnerability—Madison, usually so blunt, so in control. But before he could answer, Rebecah reappeared at the end of the aisle, a bag in hand, and they both plastered on neutral smiles, falling back into step as if nothing had happened.
A little later, as shopping fatigue began to settle in—bags growing heavier, feet protesting against the hard mall floor—Rebecah stopped abruptly in front of a small café wedged between two stores, with white plastic tables and a counter stacked with wrapped sandwiches and steaming coffee cups.
“Hey, how about a break? Something to eat, something to drink? I’m starving—what about you?”
They agreed without hesitation, grateful for the pause after nearly ninety minutes of wandering. Rebecah didn’t offer to pay for them—she simply ordered her latte macchiato and a croissant, letting Alan and Madison pull out their wallets for a black coffee and a muffin each. No grand gesture, no my treat like last time. They sat down at a round table in the middle of the mall, surrounded by the low hum of shoppers and the distant clatter of escalators, their bags resting at their feet like forgotten prizes.
The conversation picked up again, smooth and harmless—nothing strange about it. Pure small talk, like a regular hangout between friends. Madison talked about her job, laying it all out without sugarcoating anything: how she’d been fired without warning, “budget cuts” as a bullshit excuse, and now resumes piling up with no answers.
“And the car is the cherry on top,” she added, sipping her coffee with a bitter laugh. “Got hit by some asshole who took off, and the shop says it’s done—frame damage, repairs that cost a fortune. I’m on foot, literally, until I figure something out.”
Rebecah listened closely, nodding, asking practical questions without a hint of judgment. “That’s rough. Have you looked into temp work, just to get by?”
Alan chewed on his muffin in silence, watching the exchange, sensing an opening. He hesitated, throat tightening, then finally dared to speak—not without effort, as if the words weighed a ton. He tossed it out casually, half-joking, testing the waters with a forced smile.
“That night at the bar was still pretty wild, though ... I can’t believe you pushed us to do that, Beca. I mean—us two, like that, for money.”
The mood shifted instantly, the air crackling with a subtle charge, like a veil being lifted. They all laughed, but it rang hollow—nervous, slightly too loud, the kind of laughter that hides discomfort. Rebecah shook her head, eyes sparkling with polite amusement.
“Yeah, it was intense, not gonna lie ... I loved it.”
Then, softer, kinder, almost apologetic: “But I get that it’s not your thing. I won’t push it any further, I promise. Let’s move on, okay?”
Her words landed like a door closing—gently, politely, but final—completely undercutting Madison’s plans. Alan felt a knot tighten in his stomach. How were they supposed to turn this around now? Rebecah was playing with them, backing them into a corner without ever seeming to, forcing them to ask instead of offer. But in the moment, it just felt ... normal. A polite ending to an awkward episode. They nodded, returning to their drinks, but the tension lingered—quiet, insidious, like a shadow slowly stretching. ---
They tossed their empty cups into a nearby trash can and resumed wandering through the mall, plastic bags crinkling against their legs. But this time, a thin tension had crept in—a faint sense of defeat weighing on their shoulders. Rebecah had shut the door so politely, so cleanly, that reopening the subject now felt impossible without forcing it. They were too polite to ask outright, too embarrassed to bring up money head-on, and now every step through the next stores felt heavier, more pointless.
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