Geralt and Ciri

Note: Semi-incest but not really, all anal, kinda harsh language with a few mentions of pain and humiliation. Third section has some futa-lite stuff. I just really like the idea of a girl getting a cock and enjoying the heck out of it.

Short feedback on recent and forthcoming posts appreciated. Just why you like/don't like stuff because I almost didn't post work benefits because I thought it was boring after I finished, but it's got a decent rating. Wanna get a better read on what people like.

~~~

The two were on the road together, looking for work. They sat round the fire as night fell and talked as only father and daughter could, even if Ciri wasn't his true daughter, she was still his.

Drink had colored their conversation and it soon roamed to strange topics.

"So how are things with Yen, Geralt?" Ciri asked brightly.

"Mmmm, complicated, you know how she is Ciri."

"When is anything not when it comes to her? What is it this time Geralt?"

"Nothing Ciri. Forget I mentioned it," Geralt said. Geralt rarely hid things from Ciri, so his strange evasiveness only piqued her curiosity more.

"Geraaaalt," Ciri said. "Did you do something to make her angry again?"

Geralt ignored her and focused on his drink, but after minutes of prodding, he eventually gave in. "Did. As in past tense."

Ciri tilted her head.

Geralt sighed as he explained. "She found out something new about Triss and Flotsam."

"Flotsam? I thought you two sorted that out?"

"We did. Until Triss and Yen had a talk. I may have been, less than totally forthright."

"Geralt," Ciri said sternly.

"I didn't lie about anything," Geralt said defensively. "All I did was leave out a little detail."

"Oh and what's that?"

"I may not have mentioned where it was I ploughed Triss," Geralt said into his cup.

Ciri gave him a confused look. "What? Why should that matter? Flotsam or Vegen it-" Ciri paused as she thought it over more, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "Geralt!" she said, punching her foster father in the shoulder with a laugh. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Geralt rocked from the blow but didn't reply.

"Let me guess, during sorceress talk Triss must have let it slip. But surely Yen can't hold that against you, it's not like it changes the past."

"No," Geralt rasped. "But it does put a new light on why I always pester her about trying it."

Ciri's grin widened even further. "Geralt!" she practically yelped.

~

The two kept drinking, with Ciri teasing Geralt more and more as the night darkened. Drink muddled her thoughts further until Ciri started looking at her foster father in a new light.

"Never knew Yen was so much of prude," Ciri said.

"Stop it Ciri, you've had your fun."

"I'm serious Geralt, for someone almost a century old, I can't believe she won't try."

"You shouldn't talk about things you don't know anything about Ciri,"

"Who says I don't know anything about it? I'm no prude Geralt, I've been ploughed in the rear plenty," Ciri bluntly admitted, the alcohol having loosened her tongue.

Geralt said nothing but flushed, he hoped the darkness would hide his coloring.

It was too much to hope for. "Geralt," Ciri said slowly with a grin. "You aren't thinking of ploughing me are you?"

"You're drunk Ciri," Geralt said. "You should go rest, we've a hunt tomorrow."

Ciri didn't relent. "I'll admit, it'd make nights on the road a lot more fun, that's for sure."

"Stop it Ciri."

"What, it's true. You saying ploughing my arse wouldn't be fun? I'm offended."

"Ciri."

Ciri wanted to laugh, to tease her foster father, but somewhere along the line, it had stopped being a joke and became something more. Ciri found her voice hitching when she spoke. "I'm not that drunk."

She hadn't been joking when she'd said she'd been ploughed in the back plenty. Oh she'd heard wenches tell tales of how uncomfortable it was for them but rarely found it so herself. Perhaps it was the adventurer in her, the numerous wounds she'd taken and the countless nights sleeping on hard packed dirt and stones, but she didn't mind it back there at all, even when men dug their fingers into her hips and thrust in as hard as they could. She'd used her arse more than once to soothe tempers or settle debts that she didn't have the coin for and found it a cheap and easy solution.

If I can take it from merchants and mercenaries, why not Geralt?

Ciri mused to herself.

Making up her mind, she pressed forward. "Truly Geralt. It would make our travels much more pleasant. Just imagine, settling into a nice, warm arse for the night, it's a better idea than drinking that swill to chase away the chill," Ciri said laughing. "And you'd hardly have to worry about me telling Yen, it could be our little secret."

To an ordinary woman, Geralt's tells may not have even existed, but to Ciri's heightened ones, she saw them all too well; the slight bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the shifting of his stance to hide the growing bulge in his trousers, the tightening of his fingers around his cup. Ciri knew she was slowly whittling away Geralt's will with her talk as loathe to admit it as he was.

Ciri found herself approaching Geralt slowly.

What's come over me?

Ciri thought to herself as she stared down into her cup. She shrugged.

Well, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it before. So why not.

She drained the last dregs of her cup

.

The strange tasting yet fine ale Yennefer had specifically gifted her went down smoothly and left her feeling fuzzy and tingly all over.

Ciri was never one for seduction or elegance so she didn't undress the way the wenches she'd been with had. Instead, she plopped down next to Geralt on the fallen tree and clumsily grabbed her boot to pull them one after another. The trousers went next with quick jerks down. To Geralt's credit, he didn't give in then, not until Ciri finally swung one of her legs over the side and presented him with an unvarnished view of her womanhood.

"Come on Geralt, live a little," Ciri prodded.

And just like that, Geralt broke. He stopped thinking of the girl in front of him as his daughter, and started thinking of her as a something more.

Geralt moved slowly at first, but with every passing second the hesitation melted away from him. Ciri laid back on the tree and waited expectantly for the familiar sensation of sharp pain and satisfying fullness to claim her. She reached down to play with herself as Geralt unbuckled and surprisingly felt her fingers sink into soaking lips. Pulling her hand away, she saw sticky strings of wetness trail from her fingers to her hole. Ciri hadn't expected that kind of reaction from her body so soon, she usually didn't get like that until much later.

She looked back at Geralt as he finished stripping off his armor and felt herself flush in a way she never had before. She grew so wet with need that she felt trails of her own juices flow down her ass, conveniently getting herself ready for Geralt.

Despite being only faintly moonlight, Geralt's catlike pupils saw, and he grew hungry. Geralt rubbed himself against Ciri's sopping womanhood until he was slick with her juices before placing his head against her arse.

Ciri said nothing, merely held her legs spread and waited for Geralt to claim her arse like a whore with heavy breath. Geralt speared himself into his foster daughter slowly, stretching out the hole for the first time in months. Ciri sucked in a breath at the sharp sensation as he did, unused to being fucked there after so long out in the wilderness.

But still, she didn't find the feeling unpleasant. It was a quiet and familiar pain, a price she had gladly paid many times before for the fullness it offered her. Inch by inch Geralt filled her to her limit and then some. Ciri's fingers dug into the bark of her makeshift seating, accidentally breaking sheets off as she was forced to take more of Geralt's length.

I should've taken a look at his sword before I said all that

Ciri chastised herself, only half joking. But eventually Ciri felt Geralt come to a rest against her and let out the breath she held as he did. Without his sword stabbing deeper into her, she finally got a chance to wriggle her hips and enjoy the sensation of pleasant, throbbing, fullness only men could offer.

Ciri wasn't certain if Geralt was a large man down there, but it certainly felt like it. None of the Temerians, Kaedwenis or even Skelligese she'd been with came close to the sheer, breathtaking, dominating presence Geralt had in her arse.

Though Ciri might have only needed just a moment longer to adjust to his size, her body betrayed her and reacted as only it could. She felt herself drenching Geralt with her own wetness, and she knew what that would mean, Geralt was still a man after all. Ciri felt Geralt pull back until only the tip was inside before he plunged back into her roughly, hungrily. Her skin rippled and her breasts swayed from the impact but Ciri didn't retreat from it. She grit her teeth and took what enjoyment she could until her body could adjust.

Geralt ploughed into Ciri's arse with one hand on the top of her shoulder and the other wrapped tightly around one of her breasts while she held on dearly to the tree trunk.

"Beats a bearskin and cheap wine doesn't it?" Ciri joked, trying to distract herself.

"Does it? I can't tell much of a difference," Geralt replied.

Ciri laughed but struck his shoulder all the same.

As Ciri's body warmed up to the cock thrusting into her, the sharp pain that always came with it slowly faded and was replaced by a deeper satisfaction that radiated through her body as she milked him with her arse.

Ciri laid back on the tree and let Geralt take her in a perversion of the Lovers Embrace. It was meant to be love making position that produced a child, but Geralt was in entirely the wrong hole. Ciri kept her legs spread and feet planted flat on the ground while her arms struggled to find what purchase they could on the rough bark of her bed as Geralt ploughed her arse.

Fiendish thoughts flickered through Ciri's head as she embraced the depraved treatment.

In another life, I could have been the greatest whore.

Ciri knew first hand that arse was always the pricey-est of the three holes wenchs put on offer, and it was a rare offer at that. Too many of the tavern girls turned it down and drove up the price. But that was all business Ciri could have taken, in another life.

I'm not one to complain, when it's my arse on the line. I could take the men all day.

Despite not having a free hand to play with herself, the wicked thoughts alone were enough to drive Ciri mad with lust. She felt herself flowing more and more freely even as Geralt ignored her drooling hole to make a whore of her.

It was always the most wicked whores that offered their arses. Mmmm, I would be worse than them all. I would offer nothing but my arse. A cheap arse too, one that all the frustrated farmers, travelers and hungry sailors could afford.

"Where'd you learn to do this?" Geralt eventually asked.

"What, just because I carry poison rather than powder doesn't mean I don't know of womanly ways Geralt," Ciri said, pretending offense.

"You're being ploughed up the arse on a tree Ciri, not much womanly about it."

Ciri shrugged. "Silks, barks or stones, makes little difference to me. But to answer your question, it's sometimes been better to part with my arse than my purse."

"I didn't know that was an option."

"Very funny. Hey, don't stop that."

"Mmmmm," Geralt mumbled.

~

When the two finally finished, they moved their beddings together and crawled underneath the same skin.

"This really will make these hunts go a lot faster," Geralt remarked.

"See, I knew you'd change your tune," Ciri said.

~~~

Ciri woke up groggily, with the haze of the last night receding slowly. Turning in the bedding she found Geralt nowhere to be found. She chastised herself for being so lax and wondered what had made her sleep in. A sharp pain in her rear as she twisted gave her the answer.

Oh that's right. We tried those potions we bought from that gnome.

She grinned and laid back, resting her head in her interlaced fingers as the memories came rushing back.

Gods, that made things harder than usual

Ciri thought, though it was anything but a complaint. Ciri took no small measure of pride in her own ability to get through it.

Ciri had grown oddly proud in her ability to take Geralt up her arse without whinging or complaining like those tavern wenches so often did. She was no pampered flower that needed molly coddling, and she proved it night after night, for hours on end sometimes. Even when she felt her rear opened and exposed to the cool nights air, she never once tried to run away from Geralt's rabid thrusts. She kept her arse in place, grit her teeth, dug her fingers into the grass and took him until the two of them were satisfied.

Ciri got out of her bedding and began to dress for the day, taking newfound satisfaction in the occasional stinging of her rear. It wasn't the pain that gratified Ciri, it was what it meant. She was no vapid maiden but she still couldn't deny the satisfaction of being wanted so fiercely.

Ciri spotted her clothing far away from her bedding, away from it's usual place. She grabbed her trousers first and placed one leg up on a nearby stump to ease the dressing, but partway through putting her leg down the pant leg she heard a branch snap behind her and instantly realized her mistake.

She rolled her eyes at what was to come and steeled herself. An instant later a searing pain flashed through her as a familiar shape drove itself into her still sore arse harshly. Geralt had grown fond of ambushing and sheathing his sword in her if she let down her guard. It was a game the two had started to enjoy with one another so Ciri had no one to blame but herself for the sudden surprise ploughing.

"Again Geralt, really?" Ciri complained, only half seriously as she felt Geralt pressed flush against her. She

was

still sore from the last night so another session of ploughing her arse was bound to be much worse.

"Sorry Ciri, don't know what's come over me," Geralt deadpanned as he heaved himself into Ciri, delighting in both her tightness and how wrong it all was.

"I do, it's those bloody gnome potions. We're never buying them again."

"Want me to stop?" Geralt asked, sounding particularly unenthused at the idea.

Ciri shook her head. "Already started, might as well finish," she said as she placed her other foot on the stump and bent at the knees so she leaned her back against her foster father. The position gave Geralt better access to her depths, a fact he immediately took advantage of to drive even further into her.

Geralt rutted into her for long minutes before he changed motions. Instead of staying inside her, Geralt began pulling entirely out from her rear only to stab the whole length back in suddenly.

Ciri groaned and shifted from the change. She was never a fan of how it felt to be so suddenly speared open, it gave her body no time to adjust or even enjoy the fullness it typically offered. But she wasn't one to complain and tried to coax whatever pleasure she could from her body as she endured the prolonged assault.

As Geralt plumbed her depths, Ciri felt herself open more and more to the elements until there wasn't a moment she didn't feel the wind chill her open arse. And finally, when she felt like she could endure no more, did Geralt finally explode inside her and fill her belly with his seed. Ciri felt the warm, thick liquid fill her so thoroughly that it threatened to overflow from her.

When Geralt pulled out, it left Ciri feeling cavernously empty, even with his seed inside. As the strain of the club-like cock left her, she collapsed limply onto the ground and groaned. "Ploughing finally Geralt. I thought you'd never stop. By the way, ow."

"Oh quit whining Ciri," Geralt rasped.

She wanted to throw something at him for that comment, but was too tired to. In her position, face down in the dirt Ciri saw Geralt rummage around until he found what he wanted, her cup. She only knew all too well what that meant. Ever since she had told Geralt about how she paid off some Skelligese raiders, he'd been all too eager to request the same.

Ciri felt Geralt pull her up by the waist onto her knees. She felt the wood lip of the cup press against her a moment before Geralt tilted her further. Soon after, a flood of his thick seed flowed out of her gaping hole, filling the bottom of her cup. Granted Geralt's volume was enormous, it was still much more manageable than the brimming cup those two dozen Skelligese gave her that one time she played Gwent abysmally. Ciri's face went sour at the not so pleasant memory.

After coaxing out the remains of his seed, Geralt handed her the prepared drink.

"Fresh from the tap," Geralt said with a smirk.

Geralt's humor had taken on an edge of mocking that it hadn't held before, but Ciri found it oddly exciting.

But she didn't dare laugh for fear of it appearing to encourage Geralt's new attitude, but neither was she silent. "Bottoms up," she said as she tilted the cup back and chugged down the vile seed that had poured from her arse.

She shook her head side to side and made a face as the last of it went down her gullet. "How many times are you going to make me do that Geralt?" Ciri asked.

"As many times as I can, I suppose," Geralt replied honestly.

"Men," Ciri complained. "Whether ordinary or mutant, still they're all the same."

"Mmmm," Geralt mumbled.

~~~

The change in their relationship meant the two were practically scrambling for contracts afterwards, looking for any way they could find to spend more time in the wilderness together where they could end every night in each other's embrace, far from prying eyes.

For the rest of their hunts together, the two quickly fell into a routine. Right after they'd finished setting up camp, the two would unwind from the stresses of the day; with Geralt stuffing himself into Ciri's arse while she did her best to milk the seed from him. It was a routine only broken when Triss Merrigold of Maribor joined them.

~

The day was passing normally for the two. Ciri was pressed up against a tree as Geralt heaved himself into her arse, hard enough it was scraping her soft skin against the bark uncomfortably. Ciri snarled and cursed as she struggled to take his member, but never asked him to stop. She had her own way of enjoying things.

Despite swearing they wouldn't return to those gnome alchemists, the two had, and often at that. They bought potions of renewal that made Ciri as tight as a maiden again and kept her that way for weeks at a time, no matter what she went through. There were the potions of Maidenbane that grew Geralt to new proportions, elixirs of Fireflesh and Tawny Owl that heightened their senses and pleasure to new levels or improved their stamina to near limitlessness. But most interestingly of all, there were the tinctures of Shared Flesh that allowed Ciri to enjoy herself as Geralt did. Magical in nature, they allowed Ciri to feel what Geralt felt. The combination of mildly poisonous mixtures would've killed ordinary people, but Geralt's mutant biology and Ciri's built up tolerances allowed them to imbibe the concoctions without fear.

"I can't believe this is what we're missing out on," Ciri groaned as Geralt rammed into her.

She was torn between the pain of having Geralt's enhanced member bulldozing its way through her guts and the indescribable pleasure that being there was giving him, and by extension, her.