Chastened Ch 01 A Mere Ensign

Content Note:

Incest

Having just watched and read Jane Austen's Persuasion, I felt in the mood to twist it up a bit. There will be further chapters at some point.

In the ballroom at home, we had a grand piano that had been brought all the way from Earth. That was the story, at least. Like the House itself, which had been disassembled and transported brick-by-brick across the lightyears at huge expense, the piano was testament to the extraordinary wealth of those first, pioneering Elliotts. That had been the time of the first great expansion when there were fortunes to be made in ship building and asteroid mines, and when visionary builders embarked on constructions of epic scale.

O-Stred itself was one such, conceived as a home away from home, a superior Earth. An orbital ring circling a yellow star, its induced gravity and its daylength exactly what they should be. Were it ever to be completed, it would be a million miles around; instead it had become a chain of island habitats and industrial plates that could be seen glittering brightly in the night sky against a backdrop of distant stars.

But humanity's expansion had left O-Stred behind. The great factories were all but dead, and the vast wealth of those original Elliots had diminished across the generations. That gradual fall from grace could be seen in the crumbling brickwork of the House, mostly hidden by unchecked ivy, and in the ancient oak beams long replaced by modern synthetics. It could be seen in the piano too, though the essence remained, its voice beautiful and echoing loudly in the empty ballroom.

The piano was my solace, my companion, in the years after my mother's death. I was fourteen when she passed away, and it seemed at the time that I was the only one who grieved. And Rosa, of course, my mother's lifelong friend and companion; but my father had long been distant from my mother, and my older sister, Eliza, sixteen at the time, had adored our father just as I adored our mother. Mara, my younger sister, had been sent to live with cousins during our mother's long illness, and absorbed her death with indifference, and everyone else, it seemed, cared more about the distant war than the tragedy that shattered my life.

The piano, and books too. Though the library shelves were largely empty, the books brought so dearly from Earth having rotted away, I ordered them to be printed anew and spent whole days absorbed in tales and legends from the terrestrial era, and though I cannot claim any specialist expertise in the old languages, I gained some fluency in reading and interpreting them. It was not a traditional education, but between my absorption in the spheres of music and literature, and the steadfast love and companionship of my surrogate mother, Rosa, I found my way back to light and life, and became in due course an adult too.

It has been said that humanity's greatest achievement has been to spread so far and wide through the galaxy that it has even been able to engage in interstellar war with itself. This is, of course, the kind of absurd remark that only those far removed from the actual horrors of war can make with ignorant amusement. O-Stred was far from the battle lines, and on idyllic Kell we were barely perturbed by rumours of defeat and the excitement of victory. The war, for me, was too far away, and too unimaginable, to truly matter.

I had spent almost my whole life on Kell. An island some forty miles across, Kell was one of the many agricultural habitats in the O-Stred chain, and it was a place of peace and beauty, with streams threading through fields and orchards. The view from the House gave the sense almost of being on a planet, the horizon in all directions hidden behind hills and woods. There were other inhabitants too, of course, in villages around the periphery, all paying a ground rent to my father as the rightful landowner of Kell Island - one of the last residues of the Elliott fortune.

Except, it wasn't exactly his. The Elliotts who had poured a sizeable chunk of their fortune into an island in space, who had paid handsomely to transport a mansion and its contents across the dark reaches, had made absolutely sure their descendants could not subdivide and sell off the dream they had built. Kell Island was set up as a trust, and the right to call it theirs fell to whichever living descendant retained the greatest proportion of the Elliott genes.

My father was particularly proud of his genetic heritage. He believed himself to be superior to all around him, and in some ways he was. Those pioneering Elliotts had not only been rich, but also the product of genetic engineering. The medical practice of implanting designer DNA had been banned even as it produced its greatest successes, and its most horrifying mistakes. "Man," they said, "should not play God."

Man, however, cannot resist playing God. The Elliotts lucked out, the men famed for their handsome features, the women famed for their beauty, and both famed for vigorous health, and other things too. A good measure of that inheritance could be seen in my father, and in both my sisters too. I, however, took after my mother, a descendant of the Greys, another family of ancient wealth and engineered genes. It was a fault in those genes that caused her illness and eventual death.

But proud as my father was of his handsome visage and status, the next in line to inherit was not any of his three daughters. My second cousin, William, benefitting from a convergence of branches of the Elliott family tree, would have claim to Kell Island on my father's death. When that happened, the last dregs of the once vast Elliott fortune would be divided between the three of us.

The solution to this rather embarrassing state of affairs, my father had long reasoned, was obvious: William would have to marry Eliza. "It is the sensible thing," he would say with absolute conviction. "Not only is Eliza the most beautiful woman this side of the Horsehead," - which was entirely possible - "but the product of their union will surely inherit the Elliott genes in excellent measure."

Indeed, he could barely wait for Eliza to reach adulthood. As soon as she turned eighteen, he took her with him to Earth, where William then lived, to pursue this most sensible union - only to return, months later, grumbling about the high cost of the wasted journey, and gloating over how superior O-Stred and, in particular, Kell Island were to the squalor and faded glory of Earth. "A very rude fellow," my father muttered. "Insisted he was too busy to spend time with us. Us! Family!"

"He was intimidated by my beauty," Eliza said.

"Indeed, yes. The fool!"

*

There are few universal laws that apply throughout human space, but the most sacred is the safeguarding of those below eighteen standard years of age. Above that age, local laws prevail and vary widely, but below? Even to bend the rule is to invite disaster. Education on sexual matters is, of course, permitted, but very little else. Body autonomy is, and must be, a fundamental right.

It was not until I turned eighteen myself and became an adult legally that I discovered just what was going on behind all those locked doors in the House. For one thing, the eight pretty maids employed to keep the house clean, and to cook and serve and wash, were paid also (and paid well) to submit to the whims of my father and his guests. The four youths who tended the gardens were paid similarly, for those guests who preferred the services of a handsome man with an ardent cock.

I had never even suspected it, despite having been often bemused by the maids' provocative uniforms. The first time I was finally invited to one of my father's occasional night parties, I was shocked to see him casually strip a maid and lay her on the table, spreading her legs wide and taking her while she cried out in startled delight. I was shocked also to see our guests abuse our other maids similarly; our gardeners were summoned and quickly put to use too. I, a virgin, utterly ignorant of such delights beyond vague descriptions in ancient texts, found myself in the midst of an orgy, bare flesh all around, breasts on wild display, bums being spanked, moans and whimpers of lust and pleasure. Even my sister Eliza joined in, her beauty tempered by an expression of vague disappointment as she allowed herself to be penetrated from behind. I retreated quickly to the piano (the party was in the ballroom), playing determinedly and blushing furiously whenever my attention was sought.

Such orgies were rare, being about once every other month, but I understood that many of the parties my father and Eliza attended elsewhere devolved similarly. I was relieved to be able to miss these, but since I was of age and my younger sister still safely away from the House, the carnal delights indulged in daily by my father and by my older sister were no longer indulged so secretively. Most shocking was the discovery that my father and Eliza were intimate together.

I imagine it first happened on that long voyage back from Earth, the two of them sharing a cramped cabin for a month.

Eliza: Oh, why doesn't he want me, Daddy? Am I not beautiful?

Daddy: Of course you are, Eliza. You have Elliott genes!

Eliza: Anyway, I bet he has a tiny dick.

Daddy: Certainly it could not compare with mine. I've often heard it said that mine is the biggest dick on all O-Stred.

Eliza: I am sure it must be true - Oh! Wow! Daddy, it's magnificent!

And so on.

The first time I myself saw it, mere days after coming of age, was in his dressing room. My father could spend hours admiring his features in the many mirrors. On this particular occasion, Eliza and I were there too: I to discuss going away to college and to ask for the necessary funds for travel and accommodation and so on; and Eliza...

Well, Eliza knelt before my father, extracted his cock from his tailored trousers, and caressed it lovingly as it swelled to enormity. I had seen pictures and diagrams before, but seeing it with my own eyes and so unexpectedly too, I was lost for words. My own sister was teasing her own father's increasingly erect cock, and his only reaction was to adjust his position to gain a better view of it in the mirrors.

"I love your huge cock, Daddy," Eliza said, stroking the thick shaft with her hands and kissing the bulbous head.

In shock, I could do nothing but watch silently as she licked and sucked with ever greater enthusiasm, and as he gazed at himself in lustful admiration. Mostly I stared at his cock and wondered how anything that big could possibly fit where I knew it should. Maybe, I reasoned, he was abnormally large, and not able to penetrate as other men did - and yet, he had had three daughters by my mother, so perhaps it was possible after all?

I did not expect, or indeed want, to have my question answered so soon, or so visually, but Eliza stood and turned to face me, lifted her short skirt to reveal a lack of any concealing underwear, and pressed her bare bum back against Father's erect cock. Her blonde pubes were trimmed and her labia pierced with diamond-studded gold, and her pussy was wet in a way mine had never been.

My heart pounded as I watched him skewer her, his cock stretching those soft lips to the very limit, and filling her with slow determination to an impossible depth. Neither of them seemed conscious of my presence. Eliza was lost in an excess of sensation - I couldn't tell if it was pain or pleasure - and Father was focussed entirely on that brutal union of flesh.

What started out gently developed swiftly to an act of violence, his thrusting hips driving his cock so hard into his daughter's cunt that her whole body shook from the impact, forcing a gasp of what surely was pain from her. Her expression was one of anguish - and terrible need. "Yes, Daddy!" she said. "Harder! Faster!"

I could sit and watch no longer. "We'll talk later," I said weakly, my legs trembling when I tried to stand.

"What? Hmm?" he said, momentarily distracted from his ravishment of my sister. "Oh, college. Yes, I'll give you what you need. Shep will sort out the details." Shep was the family's lawyer and accountant.

"Thank you, Father," I said, and left. Not that either paid any further attention to me. Eliza's cries of pleasure echoed through the stone-walled corridors as I hurried back to my room. I closed the door to block it out, to deny its reality; and as the horror of it all receded at last, I was left with the awareness of my swollen, aching nipples, and my clit that throbbed with excitement.

I lifted my skirt and peered down at my panties - I had never been so wet before.

*

Cox Island was almost directly opposite Kell. With a telescope at night, you could even make out the college campus, the athletics grounds, Coxtown itself (famous for its nightlife, as inevitable for a mostly student population) and of course the naval academy. Actually being there for three years of my life was tremendously exciting.

Though it was great to get away from my dysfunctional, incestuous family, I was too intimidated at first to go out much. For my first year there I focussed on my studies - music and language - and for leisure I kept to classical music performances and literary events. In my second year, I shared a house with Smina, an adventurous young woman who encouraged me out of my shell and introduced me gradually to the real world. Together we drank too much alcohol, listened to modern musics at deafening volume, and made out with lots of boys and girls (and many who claimed to be neither).

We even ended up in bed together on more than one occasion. We weren't in love so much as bored and horny and drunk, and the sex was fun without being earth-shattering. My studies may have suffered as a result, but that was the year I finally emerged from my shell, abandoned my lingering grief over the loss of my mother, and began to take a real interest in the universe beyond O-Stred.

In that year, also, the distant war took a turn for the worse. The enemy had made new alliances and every week there were news headlines about losses and the influx of refugees from the shifting battlefront. As a general rule, we college kids kept our distance from the naval cadets, but the war added an air of seductive glamour to them. It was only a matter of time before Smina and I succumbed to temptation, like so many of our fellow students, and dared to stray across town and into the bars the cadets frequented.

We knew it was wrong and dangerous, but that only added to the excitement. We'd heard the rumours, of course, but chose to find out for ourselves the truth of them. As soon as we stepped through the door into the bar, we knew the rumours were true. Had we been entirely ignorant of their true nature, we would have believed ourselves surrounded by tall, voluptuous women, unfashionably wearing trousers. The reality, of course, is that they were futanari, and I found it difficult not to stare at the many prominent bulges where my mind insisted there should be none.

Coupled with the toned physique of extensive physical exercise and the strict posture of military training, their dominant futanari sexuality acted on me like electricity. In a panic, I backed towards the door, pulling a reluctant Smina with me, only to find my line of retreat blocked. "I hope you're not leaving already," a warm voice murmured in my ear. I could feel her large, soft breasts pressing warmly against my shoulders, her fingertips brushing against my sides. The beat of the music was strong, sending vibrations through me with pulsing insistence, and her breath against my neck nearly had me melting into her arms. "No," I whimpered, struggling to break free.

Smina had yielded already. Sandwiched between two gorgeous futanari cadets, she was kissing one hungrily and laughing as the other groped her breasts from behind. A tall blonde bent to kiss me on the lips and I wrenched myself free and looked around desperately for the exit. All I could see were lustful expressions and laughter.

"Let her go," a new voice said sternly, and a firm hand against my back guided me through the disappointed throng to safety, to the outside, to fresh air and relative quiet. To darkness, to hide my blushing and my tears as I faced my rescuer. A tall, young, dark-haired futanari in an officer's uniform, black with gold braid. "I'm sorry," she said. "They didn't mean any harm. Usually when a woman enters a futa bar, that's exactly what she's looking for. Your friend is loving the attention."

Abruptly I was even more embarrassed, because of course anyone seeing me going into that bar would have assumed I was a slut seeking a novel thrill - and that was horribly close to the truth. The excitement of living dangerously, of allowing Smina to persuade me into ever riskier situations, had brought me to the point of very nearly being gang-raped by a bar full of horny futanari.

"Perhaps I should escort you home," she said, offering her arm. I didn't trust myself to speak; I nodded gratefully and accepted her offer, and together we strolled through the dark streets back towards the relative safety of the college campus.

"Thank you," I said, much recovered. My eyes were no longer blurred by tears and I studied her curiously. She was not what I might consider beautiful, but she had an air of dignity and intelligence that was very at odds with just about everyone I had ever known. "I'm Ana," I offered.

She smiled, and it lit up her face with warmth. "Ensign Winter," she said. "Freya."

"Thank you, Freya," I said, returning the smile.

"I wonder," she said, "if you would enjoy the opera? I have a spare ticket and would prefer not to go alone."

Perhaps if I hadn't still been in shock from the earlier events of the night, I would have turned her down. Had I been thinking at all clearly, I would have reasoned that there was no future in an Elliott dating a futanari naval officer. But she was my rescuer, and very attractive in her uniform, and despite my better instincts I couldn't help wondering what it would be like to make love to a futanari. "I would love to go to the opera," I said.

*

Thus began our love affair that we both chose to take slow. In the popular imagination, there was only one reason to date a futanari, and that was sex. It wasn't the stuff of fairytales, but rather the original sin that led to a fall from grace. In almost every great romance, the futanari were the villains, caring only about carnal pleasure and corrupting every innocent they met.

Freya showed me that futanari were humans too. Indeed, like the Elliotts, they hailed back to that era of genetic engineering, but while the Elliotts and the other great families were lauded for their genetic distinction, the futanari were dismissed as monstrous errors. Largely forced to live separately from the human population, they had embraced naval service to the point that often ships were crewed entirely by futanari. "When you spend years at a time in deep space," Freya said, "procreation can be as essential as recreation."

For two months, we spent nearly every evening together, sometimes going to concerts, sometimes just talking for hours about history and poetry and music. I had never felt so utterly connected to someone. The physical attraction between us was undeniable, and at first our passion could be sated with kisses, and caresses that stopped short of venturing beneath clothing, but each day we ventured more, wore less, and loved for longer.

I remember clearly the first time I made her come. We lay naked in bed together, my hand stroking her hard cock as if addicted to its touch. It was very nearly as big as my father's - something I didn't like to think about - and I loved the sense of heat and power as it stirred restlessly within my grip. Glistening precum dripped from the tip, and I enjoyed tasting it from time to time. Always before we had stopped before the finish, but this time I ignored her reluctant warning and brought her all the way, feeling her breathing grow increasingly ragged, until suddenly her cock stiffened and spat a great stream of thick cum that striped across her breast, then a second that splashed against my face, making me scream in surprise.