tagIncest/TabooBlessed Ch. 12

Blessed Ch. 12


This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, and the actions contained herein should not be duplicated. All characters are 18 or older. It's all pretend, folks.


Kit approaches the door to his sister Belle's apartments in the palace and gently raps his knuckles against it. He is rewarded with an almost immediate response, the door sweeping open quickly to reveal a pretty young servant with braided blue hair wearing the Daramour livery of green and gold.

The girl curtsies with the appropriate deference, looking down at the floor. "How may this one help you, sir?"

"Is my sister at home?" Kit blithely asks.

"The mistress is on the balcony," the girl says. "This one will inform her of your visit and see if she will receive you."

Kit is allowed to wait inside the door while the girl glides away, blue braid swinging. Kit stands patiently with one hand on his sword hilt. Not quite at parade rest but near enough, he allows himself to look around without turning his neck too much.

Belle's apartments look to be larger and more lavishly decorated than any of his other sisters'. Even Grace's rooms are smaller and less fancily appointed. Kit does some quick mental calculations just to be sure that Belle's rooms are less extensive than their mother's. Unlike any of his other family members, Belle has servants bustling around, arranging flowers, cleaning furniture, looking after a small lapdog, and doing other minor tasks. About five young women in green and gold altogether, including the girl who answered the door.

Kit, already intimidated by his aloof older sibling, feels a little off-balance. He didn't expect to have an audience while he visited with Belle. He squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, remembering his last conversation with Grace about Belle.

Just then the servant returns and with a less expansive curtsy, informs Kit that the mistress will see him.

Kit follows the girl through Belle's rooms out toward the balcony. They pass through glass doors into the open air, overlooking the expansive garden on the south side of the palace. The heavy scent of flowers carries up to the balcony, accompanied by the steady drone of insects and the tinkling of water in fountains.

Belle is just slipping on a thin robe as Kit arrives, belting it loosely around her narrow waist. She turns to welcome him, and the robe swirls a little to reveal an expanse of tanned thigh. Kit sees that Belle left the robe open enough to show off the long, enticing line of her cleavage while still concealing most of her impressive bust.

"Just getting some sun," Belle says. "My husband does not care for tan lines." Did she emphasize her marital status, or was that just Kit's imagination?

"Of course," Kit says, because one must say something in such situations. The feeling of imbalance remains. He really doesn't know how to talk to Belle. He admires her, but barely knows her.

Belle is the same height as Kit, which means he can look straight into her blue eyes easily. He is relieved to see that they are not currently dulled by drink.

Aside from the blueness of her irises, she favors their father more than their mother. Flawless bronze skin, long graceful limbs, and fine pale hair, the color of honey and thickness of cornsilk. Belle keeps her hair short, shorter even than Gabby's, parted on one side with her bangs hanging in front of her right eye. Her make-up is subtle and complementary. Aside from the thin silk robe and presumed nudity beneath, Belle looks every inch the professional woman that she is.

"So what brings you to my little corner of the palace?" Belle asks, indicating that Kit may sit. Kit settles into the nearest chair, while Belle smoothes her robe and drapes herself across the lounge seat she has been using.

"Some refreshment?" she asks, and at Kit's automatic nod, Belle makes another subtle gesture. The young blue haired girl scurries off.

Kit clears his throat. "I have been meaning to talk to you for a while, actually."

Belle inclines her head, pink lips smiling slightly. "But you have been busy lately, haven't you?"

"Yes," Kit concedes, feeling slightly embarrassed. He shouldn't be, but something in Belle's tone suggests that she disapproves, somehow. "At any rate, I wanted to ask you whether you are interested in taking part in Mother's plan or not."

Belle sits back slightly, a move that draws attention to the way her large breasts move beneath her robe. But her posture suggests that Kit isn't supposed to notice. "I'm here, am I not?" Belle says, her voice carefully neutral.

Kit nods. "So is Eva, but she has made it plain that she is not interested."

"Oh? But I heard that you and Eva went for a very long ride the other day."

"We did. But it was just a ride." Kit pauses. "And lunch. Oh, and exploring some ruins."

Belle's fine brows draw close together. "You expect me to believe that?"

Kit stares at her flatly. He's on sounder footing now. He doesn't like being called a liar. "It's the truth," he says.

Belle's eyes widen slightly. "Okay."

They stare at one another for a long moment. Kit can see her gauging him, weighing him with her eyes. The moment is broken when the servant returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She sets them down, pours, and hands Belle and Kit each a glass. Then she scuttles back, out of earshot but still nearby in case her mistress needs her.

Belle reaches for a glass and Kit struggles not to make a disapproving sound. She picks up on it, though, and looks askance at him through her blonde bangs. "You think it's a little early for wine, do you? As vices go, this is hardly the worst one could have."

Kit frowns. The implication, of course, is that fucking one's siblings and mother is worse than a tipple now and again. "I'm not one to judge," Kit says.

"And yet you are judging," Belle says, the kind note in her voice belying the steel beneath it. She sips her wine.

Kit pointedly doesn't touch the glass left for him. "We are dancing around the question. Do you want to participate or not?"

Belle looks at her brother over the rim of her wineglass. "I admit that I am not as sanguine about mating with my own brother as some of my sisters. But I do intend to go through with the plan. Mother has made a sound argument as to the potential benefits, and even if it doesn't work out the way she intends, it never hurts to have the governor of the province owe you a favor."

Kit feels offended on his mother's behalf. They are barely on speaking terms at the moment -- still fucking, of course, because their relationship is beyond weird -- but he doesn't care for Belle's mercenary attitude. Whatever else, they are family.

He bites back what he wants to say, however. Instead, he asks, "When would you like to begin?'

"Straight to the point," Belle observes. She sips her wine. "Why don't you come back tonight around six. We will have dinner and see where the night takes us. Does that sound reasonable?"

Kit nods. "It does. I look forward to seeing you tonight." He stands, causing Belle to sit back with a slightly surprised look. The wine sloshes in the glass.

Kit takes a deep breath. He wants to put this as delicately as possible, but knows he can't phrase it completely without offering offense. Nonetheless, he can't keep silent about this. "I want to be clear about something. If you are not sober tonight, there will be no procreation."

Belle turns pale, except for two red spots on her cheeks. Her eyes blaze. "Don't presume to tell me what to do, little brother."

Kit inclines his head in a slight nod. "I would not. The choice is yours entirely, Belle." He gives her a precisely measured bow, turns smartly on his heel, and departs. He doesn't wait for the servant girl to show him the way, nor pay attention to Belle's smoldering anger as he leaves.

Outside in the hall, Kit pauses to clench his fists and mutter a curse. Inside he is seething. The insult to his mother is the primary cause, especially since that insult came from his sister, but he is also frustrated at Belle's response to his statement. But he reserves some blame for himself for completely bungling the interview.

Of all his sisters, Belle is the closest to being a complete stranger to him. She was only fourteen when Kit was born, but he spent most of his formative years with Grace and his mother, with Gabby and Eva as his closest playmates. By the time Kit was old enough to spend much time outside the nursery, Belle was leaving for university.

He remembers giving her a big hug before she boarded the ship that would take her away to school, and seeing her sporadically on breaks when she visited home. But he left on his own journey before she returned from hers. They never really bonded much as siblings, let alone friends.

Dinner is going to be awful, Kit decides. Assuming that Belle doesn't just cancel outright. To distract himself, he decides to go looking for Fiona.


Kit spends a half hour with Fiona on the practice field. The two of them batter one another, using matched sword and shield, no magic tricks. Just tactics, strength, speed, and luck. Fiona doesn't fight that way very often, as she usually needs at least one hand free when boarding a ship, but she's far from a novice and has a few tricks to show Kit. He absorbs the knowledge eagerly, thankful that his older sister is looking out for him.

Afterward, as they are stripping off their quilted armor and placing the wooden weapons and shields in the shed, Fiona gives him an odd look. "Why so glum, chum?"

Kit looks up, forcing a smile. "I'm not glum. Who's glum? Not me."

Fiona smiles at his attempt to be humorous, but doesn't laugh. "You are very serious today. Just wondering why."

Kit sighs. "I met with Belle today and arranged a 'date.' I don't have high hopes for it working out."

Now Fiona does laugh. "Oh, you poor baby."

Kit grumbles, feeling that he is being made fun. "I like getting along with my family," he says. "Especially since I haven't seen any of you in so long, and I'm going to leave again very soon."

Fiona's laugh dies on her lips. "You're right, Kit. I'm sorry." She puts a companionable arm around his shoulder and pulls him tight to her side, hugging him. He is all too aware of her right breast pressing against his bicep. Large. Firm and yielding at once.

"If it makes you feel any better," Fiona says, drawing his attention from her tits, "Belle doesn't get on with anybody in the family. She is very much the black sheep. Doesn't stop her from trying, the poor dear. She's always gone her own way but at the same time wanted to be part of the gang. It has caused no end of troubles amongst us older kids.

"I think the only ones of us who visit her regularly are Drake and myself. She and Grace barely talk at all."

"How is that supposed to make me feel better?" Kit grumbles.

She ruffles his shock of black hair. "Because it's not just you, Kit."

She saunters away, hips swaying, towards the mansion. "Now, I'm all sweaty and worked up, which means I need to get even sweatier and more worked up." She looks over her shoulder, giving her hair a little flip and a flirtatious smile to Kit. "Unless you're storing all that seed up for your big date tonight?"

Kit makes a show of admiring the curve of Fiona's back, especially where it meets her legs. "I suppose I could spare some for you, dear sister."

"Oh, so generous," she says with a laugh. She cocks her hips out and gives her ass a little slap, which looks amazing in her green leather leggings. She giggles girlishly as Kit's eyes glaze over and his mouth drops open, clearly enjoying the view.

"C'mon, I have an idea," she says. Kit follows dutifully as Fiona leads them into the mansion, through an unfamiliar corridor, to a large wooden door. Beyond, a set of stone steps leads downward. Glowstones flicker to life as they descend.

Kit feels the temperature drop by degrees as he and Fiona make their way down the steps. The sweat on his body and soaked into his clothes begins to cool, chilling him slightly.

"Where are we going?" Kit wonders aloud. He's never seen this part of the mansion, although that doesn't surprise him much. Even after a few weeks in the family home, he still gets lost occasionally between Grace's rooms and his own. The Daramour homestead is a massive, sprawling palace, although it still pales in comparison to some of the fortresses in the Scarlet City.

"You'll see," Fiona says playfully. She reaches out to take his hand. "You're not afraid of the dark, are you Kit?"

"No," he says, a little annoyed. "I am afraid you're taking me to the dungeon, though."

"Ha!" Fiona barks. "You should be so lucky," she adds with a twinkle in her eye. "But no, it's a surprise you will enjoy."

They come to the bottom of the staircase and a doorway that leads on, under the house. Fiona tugs on Kit's hand and leads him down another corridor as more glowstones are activated. The chill Kit was feeling on the stairs is abating, and he begins to feel rather warm. He looks a question at Fiona, but she just smiles and winks.

Then another door, and through that a small room with wooden benches and hooks on the walls for clothes, and another smaller door inset on the far wall. Without a word, Fiona closes the door behind them and begins to divest herself of her clothes. She kicks off her doeskin boots, pulls her blouse out of her waistband, and begins to peel her green leather leggings off her powerfully muscled, very long legs.

Bemused and slightly curious, Kit begins to undress as well. He hooks his swordbelt on the wall, pulls off his shirt, removes his boots, and is just pulling off his pants when he looks up to see Fiona smiling at him, clad only in a tiny pair of green panties and a matching bra that barely contains her huge breasts.

She looks at him expectantly, but he will not give her the satisfaction of asking what is happening. Her smile turns into a disappointed frown. She steps in front of him and bends down between his legs, while looping her long hair into a ponytail. Kit spreads them automatically, despite still being clad in his briefs, and watches as she reaches beneath the bench upon which he is sitting and pulls out a basket. Inside are piled a number of fluffy white towels.

Bemused, Kit closes his legs again as Fiona kneels and pulls a pair of towels from the basket. She rises to her full height, breasts bobbing enticingly, and sets the towels on the bench beside Kit. She leans over to do so, a move which places her cavernous cleavage directly in his eyes. He breathes deep, enjoying the mix of her jasmine-scented perfume and Fiona's particular animal musk. He can see the peaks of her breasts denting the thin fabric of her bra already. For his part, he is half-hard, his underwear showing the thick outline of his tumescence.

Kit expects Fiona to straighten, but she remains looming over him instead. Her green eyes glitter, while the thick mass of her hair hangs down, the tip of her ponytail brushing Kit's cheek. He senses her reach behind her, hears the snap of her bra strap coming undone, and then watches with rapt attention as the garment falls away.

Fiona's large, perfectly formed and entirely tanned breasts swing pendulously before her little brother's eyes. Her rosy pink nipples are proudly erect and begging to be touched. But just as Kit leans forward with lips pursed, Fiona straightens and pulls away.

She steps back, hooks her thumbs into her panties, and with a slight bend of her knees, skims them down her long smooth legs. Kit rises from the bench and extends his index finger, giving Fiona a light poke in her belly, just to the left of the puckered scar on her abdomen. She squeals and steps back while simultaneously knocking his hand away.

"Brat," she hisses. Kit just grins. He gathers up his curly black hair and ties it back with a leather thong. His hair isn't really long enough to need pinning back, but he thinks he might want it out of his face for the time being.

Staying out of poking range, Fiona raises a long muscular leg and points at Kit's underwear with her big toe. "You should get naked. And be a dear and grab those towels."

Kit is nothing if not accommodating. In a heartbeat, he is as naked as his sister and has the towels in hand. Satisfied, Fiona unbolts the small wooden door and steps inside the next room. This allows Kit to admire the curvature of Fiona's backside in all its naked glory, especially the way it flexes as she steps over the high threshold into the room.

A wave of humid air slams into Kit's broad chest as he dutifully follows his older sister.

They are in a large square room, thirty feet to a side, with wood paneled walls and tiers of wooden benches arranged all around. In the center of the space is a square stone box. Vents on the sides glimmer with red and orange light. Large smooth rocks are piled atop it in a rough pyramidal shape. Beside the door are two wooden buckets, a ladle, and a faucet jutting from the wall a little above knee height.

"How long has the mansion had a sauna?" Kit asks, looking around and admiring the worksmanship. He drapes the towels next to one another on one of the lower benches.

Fiona bends at the waist and adds water to the buckets. "No idea," she says. "I used to explore the palace when I was growing up here, but there were always parts of the building forbidden to us kids." She carries the buckets over to the rocks and begins splashing them with water as she speaks. Wisps of steam rise up and waves of pleasant heat wash over them both. "Mother is constantly rearranging things, too, though she pretends that she doesn't. So I can't say when this was installed, but I found it the other day while poking around."

She smiles. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. And it's not as if I'm going to sit around waiting for you to be available like some kind of brood mare in heat." She laughs lightly. "You can go haring off with Eva and spend the night with Grace, but the rest of us aren't going to just twiddle our thumbs."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Kit says quickly. He pauses. "I'm not trying to ignore or avoid anyone."

Fiona looks at him over the steam. Sweat is already beading on the slopes of her breasts, on her smooth belly, and the curves of her legs. "Except Mother, perhaps?"

Kit makes a face. "We had a quarrel."

"Who won?"

"Who do you think?"

Fiona laughs lightly again. "How do you defeat a superior opponent, Kit?'

"Retreat," he says.

Fiona nods. "Defend, retreat, retrench, observe. Find a weakness to exploit while you try to stay alive."

"Does Mother even have a weakness?"

Fiona ladles more water on the rocks while she pretends to think. "No," she says at last through the cloud of rising steam. She steps around, ladle still in hand, and uses it to scoop up more water which she proceeds to pour down her chest. Rivulets of water slide down the amazing curves of her body. Her nipples seem to harden even further. Kit, watching her with his cock at half-mast, feels more blood flow into his member. It stiffens and rises proudly from between his legs.

Fiona smiles and sets the ladle down. "I didn't drag you down here to talk about your other relationships," she says. She settles down beside on him the bench, crossing her legs demurely but making sure to give her huge breasts a little shimmy.

Kit drags his eyes from the dusky points at the tips of his sister's tits and looks into the gleaming green jewels of her eyes. "You said something about getting more sweaty and worked up."

He loops an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. Her hip presses against his, her smooth thigh against his hairy leg, her full left tit against his chest. She tucks her arm under his and her hand snakes its way down his abdomen, fingertips dancing lightly across his muscles before running through his pubic thatch and encircling the base of his cock. As Fiona's calloused, swordswoman's digits wrap gently but insistently around his thickness, Kit leans in and kisses his sister on the lips.

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