Chastened Ch 06 Denial

Content Note:

Incest

The Avenue, being only a few thousand miles from Cox Island, is a place I visited often while at college. My first date with Freya was to an opera there, and in my final year, following the severing of our love, I attended many concerts there - but never without a hateful misery. What joy could there be in music when my heart was broken.

No joy, but music is so often beauty from desolation. Music can take a broken heart and shatter it anew, and in doing so can heal it too. I was no concert performer, but the hours I spent pouring passion and grief into the piano that year helped me to continue.

Since then, I had declined my father's half-hearted invitations to join him and Eliza when they travelled there in search of culture and high society. For years, the Avenue was where Freya and I had been in love, and to go there would only reopen that wound.

But everything had changed. Freya had come back into my life. Perhaps there could be no mending the hurt I had caused her, but it had seemed to me, at The Beach, that her coldness towards me, the much deserved anger, had given way. To what, I could not say, but the idea of joining my father and sister in their new home on the Avenue no longer seemed quite so daunting.

I could not, anyway, live forever as Rosa's guest in her house on Kell Island, just as I could not live forever as Mara's guest on Ux. Like it or not, my home was still with my father and sister, and sooner rather than later I would need to face that reality. Or find some occupation that would gain me independence from the dwindling Elliott fortune.

What would it be like to work for a living? What would I do? What could I do, for that matter? Could I serve coffee and cake all day in a posh café? Or be one of those young women who sell themselves for the pleasure of others? Could I be charming for a stranger, talk music over cocktails and poetry over dinner, and afterwards scream with pretended pleasure as I fucked professionally?

I'd always lacked the courage for that. It had been my fear of the great unknown, as much as my love for Rosa and my respect for her advice, that had persuaded me to accept chastity and deny Freya. Not a day had passed since that I did not regret that act of cowardice.

There could be no halfway ground. My father would not approve, just as he had not approved of Freya. Either I was his daughter and thus an Elliott, a product of privilege and above such trivialities as employment, or I was nothing to him.

For the first time in my life, a life without the Elliott safety net did not seem impossible. I was not, however, quite ready to dare it.

Outside of the cultural heart, the Avenue is arranged in concentric rings of houses. Each ring of houses has a distinct character, some a blaze of colour from carefully maintained gardens, some tightly terraced with avenues and parks all around.

The outermost ring is the wealthiest by far, grand houses within even grander gardens, belonging to families whose stratospheric wealth spans multiple star systems, and who visit O-Stred whenever the whim takes them.

The innermost ring, carefully concealed from view by tall trees, is a dense sprawl of small apartments and a huge variety of shops selling the basics of life to those with no fortune to subsist on. The café waitresses and sex workers and all those in between. There life is bustling and energetic, in contrast to the sparse and sedate atmosphere of the outer circles.

The industry of the Avenue is catering to the wealthy. From the finest blends of tea and the most artistically decorated cakes, to the most deviant sexual perversions. A murmur of praise from the right lips can raise an unknown to celebrity.

One such was Mistress Clay, a practitioner of the ancient art of kinbaku, who I encountered on the steps of my new home. She had in the way she dressed and carried herself an air of precision, and an aura of confidence that I found a little intimidating as she watched me walk from the taxi to the house.

I was saved from my indecision about how to address her by the front door opening abruptly. "Mistress!" Eliza said with a happy cry, followed by frown of equally abrupt disappointment. "Ana," she added reluctantly, and opened the door for us both to enter. "Father!" she shouted up the marble-effect stairs. "Ana's here."

With that she lost all interest in me, practically dragging Mistress Clay into a large side room, and closing the door firmly. "Welcome, Ana," I muttered. "It's lovely to see you again. How are you? How is poor Lucy?"

Poor Lucy was out of hospital, and by all accounts physically well. "The accident has affected her," Mara told me. "The surgeons had to fit an exo-spine. It looks like a giant zip down her back. I actually think it's sexy, but you can hardly blame her for being sensitive about it."

"She's a lot more withdrawn now," Helen added. "I still get flashes of the old Lucy, but she's not letting me in like she used to."

The last I'd heard, Lucy had packed a bag and left home, leaving a note about going to Cox Island to confront Freya once and for all.

"Ah, Ana," my father called downstairs. "Come on up. We've saved a small room for you."

"Home, sweet, home," I muttered, and dragged my suitcase up to my new, small room.

*

As homes go, it was nothing compared to Kell House with its island-spanning estate, but it was sufficient in size. My father and sister each had luxurious chambers, my sister's on the ground floor, my father's at the very top. His room had windows looking out towards the mansions of the ultrarich, and windows overlooking the avenues and parks that separated us from the next circle of houses.

I visited him there the morning after my arrival, and found him half-dressed, idly stroking his huge, rigid cock as he stared out the windows in contemplation. A maid stood ready to help him dress, but clearly her duties did not include helping my father achieve climax.

"Ah, Ana, excellent," he said. "I wonder if you wouldn't mind...?"

The adoration of my father's cock was a task I was usually happy to leave to Eliza, but for once I didn't mind helping out a little. Pulling up a seat beside him, I wrapped a hand as well as I could about the hard shaft, and caressed its extraordinary length with a slow, steady rhythm.

"How do you like the house?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Without question it is in the best part of the Avenue. I would not like to live in a mansion and feel obliged to entertain daily. I do enjoy the occasional party, but they are entirely too much trouble to host."

I chose to say nothing. My father would convince himself to believe whatever he needed to. I stroked his proud cock, feeling the veins beneath my fingertips, and watched how his precum glistened in the morning light as it oozed out into a long strand. "Pass me a glass, please," I said to the maid, and she did so with a wary eye on the weapon I held.

"And the little patch of grass we have is ideally suited to an evening soirée. I am not one to delight in the endless care and cultivation of an ornamental garden. What use is a garden anyway when we have such a pleasant space for walking in front of our house. Look there." He pointed down out through the window. "There is even a pond with ducks."

Indeed, I had already seen them from my own bedroom window. I didn't dare look away from his cock, though. I could tell he was close by the way he was moving his hips, thrusting through my hand with ever greater urgency.

"But it is the society here that has proved we were right to move here from Kell. Emerald Grey lives not half a mile from us." As if there was some erotic magic in the name itself, his cock stiffened suddenly, and I quickly lifted the glass to the tip of his cock.

Emerald Grey. I knew the name, of course. My mother's cousin, and a second cousin of my father too, on the Elliott side. Since my mother's death, I had often heard my father lament that Emerald was married. "Our genes in combination," he would cry, "would surely produce an heir for Kell Island."

His cock jerked powerfully and I struggled to hold it still as cum burst forth, thick, creamy jets splashing into the glass. The maid watched with fascination from a safe distance, and blushed brightly when she realised I'd seen her do so.

"She's divorced now!" my father exulted, seemingly oblivious to what I was doing, his imagination half a mile away, his cock in Emerald's cunt, his cum filling her womb and producing the next Elliott heir.

I waited until his erection subsided, then stood and made my way out again. "Here," I said, handing the glass to the maid. She took it uncertainly, staring at the contents with naked curiosity. "For my sister," I added, and her fading blush brightened anew.

*

At Kell we had a staff of twelve maids and gardeners, all of whom were available for sex. At the Avenue, we had two maids and a cook, and sex workers had to be ordered in. Mistress Clay was one such, a regular visitor with her ropes which she would wind in intricate designs about my sister's flesh. Eliza seemed to have finally found a kink that satisfied her more than our father's cock.

Not that she neglected him entirely, but Father's obsession with Emerald Grey had instilled a youthful vigour in him. He stalked the events she might chance to go to, and thus Eliza and I were dragged frequently to this play or that concert, and it was at an open-air opera (some modern composition that I was unfamiliar with) that we came at last face-to-face with Emerald herself.

I could see in her a resemblance to my mother, her cousin, especially in the dark curls of her hair, and about her blue eyes, and I wondered whether Father ever really missed the woman who had given him three daughters. Perhaps, for him, she had only been the possible solution to a genetic problem, and now he had found a superior solution to that same problem.

Emerald was not a great beauty, but something of the Elliott inheritance could be observed in the lines and symmetry of her features, and the Grey inheritance was in the health and longevity the Grey genes conferred. She was a little younger than my mother would have been, and no one who saw her could doubt she was fertile. No one who looked into her eyes could doubt that this was a woman who would enjoy inflicting pain.

"Dear cousin!" my father enthused. "Emerald! What joy to meet you at last!"

"Walter," she said. "How lovely!" In her eyes I saw cold calculation and a flicker of amusement. Were it not for the possibility that a union with my father could produce an heir to Kell Island, I don't doubt that she would have dismissed my father immediately from her attention. Or perhaps she would have toyed with him for a month or two, until bored. "You must come and visit," she said. "Tomorrow evening, perhaps?"

I had never seen my father so happy before. "An heir, Eliza!" he cried on the walk home. "Within the year! I'm certain of it!"

"Yes, Father," she said, hiding a scowl of annoyance. It was no secret that Eliza still hoped one day to secure Kell Island for herself and her heirs.

A local gossip columnist caught the moment too, speculating on the benefits and perils of inbreeding and crossbreeding. "If we are not careful," she concluded, "the next generation will not only be the most beautiful ever seen, but immortal too, and what chance will there be in the future for us lesser beings?"

My father's excitement was such that waiting even a few minutes more to get home was beyond him. Spying a nearby love buggy with its big wheels and tandem seats, he said, "Come, Eliza," and settled into the lower seat.

It was dark by then and the parks and walks of the outer Avenue are designated pleasure gardens after dark. While my father whipped out his cock and stroked it until it was fully hard, Eliza gave an irritated sigh, bundled up her skirt about her waist and climbed onto the top seat, adjusting its height until the cock beneath her penetrated both the hole in her seat and herself. Her earlier annoyance quite forgotten, she grabbed the steering wheel and called out, "Ready!"

"Tally-ho!" my father cried in the traditional way, and the buggy trundled forward as they pedalled together. It was an absurd and hilarious vehicle to watch, the two seats lifting and falling in opposite fashion, my father's cock thrusting mechanically into Eliza's cunt as they shot away ahead of me. Hilarious also because people usually ride love buggies in the nude, since the motion of the upper seat makes breasts bounce in a delightful fashion.

Had they been in a hurry to get home, they would have got there long before me, but they took many detours along the way, passing often in front of me, close enough for me to see my father's cock being pistoned up and down into Eliza's cunt, and their panting exertion and gasps of pleasure carried through the night.

I could tell they'd done this before. They timed their climax to their arrival at our home, my father shouting, "Almost! Almost!" and Eliza struggling to steer straight and to pedal at all as she convulsed in ecstasy. As they shuddered to a halt in front of the house, Eliza lifted herself up off a cock that was still spurting cum, and my father sat there laughing happily to himself.

*

Emerald Grey's house was very similar to our own in build, and the decorations were designed to leave visitors in no doubt of the owner's ancient heritage. Family trees linked Emerald back in time to four of the illustrious families whose genetically engineered advantages still counted for something. Emerald's clear sense of self-worth gave her an aura of power that was deeply erotic, and her movements were naturally sensual.

Dressed in glossy, skin-tight black garments held together by diamond-studded chains, Emerald studied the three of us as we were admitted into her presence.

"My dear cousin, Emerald," my father began excitedly.

Emerald silenced him with a subtle motion and a playful smile. "It has often been said that your daughter Eliza is a beauty beyond compare. I thought it an exaggeration, for could such a one still be unmarried, but now that I see her..." She smiled warmly at my sister. "A true natural beauty."

Eliza glowed to hear this assessment. "Thank you, Ms Grey," she purred.

"Do call me Emerald. I insist."

"Thank you, Emerald."

"I must confess I am at a loss to understand why you are unmarried. Do you lack sufficient discipline to keep a man?"

Eliza flushed again, this time with barely suppressed anger. "I have yet to meet a man capable of satisfying me," she answered through gritted teeth.

"That is not a husband's role," Emerald said. "Nor is it a wife's role to need satisfaction." She sighed and turned to Walter. "Her beauty has spoiled her and she is in need of instruction."

"Father!" Eliza hissed quietly.

Walter ignored my sister's fury, and nodded sagely. "I bow to your superior wisdom in such matters, Cousin Emerald, and would welcome such instruction for Eliza."

Emerald turned to study me, and for a moment her expression softened, and she said quietly, "You resemble her greatly." But the moment passed. "What qualities do you have that might hold a man's attention? Why are you not married? Are you also in need of my instruction?"

Before I could decide on an answer that wouldn't offend, Eliza laughed and said, "Ana is kept in chastity to save her from her own poor judgement."

Emerald's eyes glittered with amusement. "Show me," she ordered.

I scowled at my sister, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. It was one thing to wear a chastity belt, to spend my days resisting the urge to even attempt to relieve that cruel and persistent itch (and nights could be far worse, with so little to distract from the aching need to touch myself), quite another to have the humiliating fact of my belt made public in this way.

"Show her," my father said, and Eliza grinned wickedly.

Deciding once and for all that it was time to break this rotten bargain, to free myself of accursed chastity and abandon all connection with my dysfunctional family... starting very soon, anyway... I accepted the inevitable. Standing, I lifted my dress to reveal the polished steel belt that hugged my waist as tightly as ever, and guarded my pussy securely.

Emerald regarded it with bright fascination. "Who keeps the key?" she asked.

"My good friend, Rosa," my father replied, "who has been like a mother to my daughters."

There was a brief flicker of disappointment in Emerald's eyes, but she said simply, "Good. I approve."

There was silence for a minute as Emerald and my father considered each other. "Let me be open," she said eventually. "I have no intention of marrying for love or desire. I will pursue these regardless. But marriage is the traditional form when discussing children, and were we to have children, they would inherit the superior genes we both possess. Very likely, one would inherit Kell Island, which currently you stand to lose."

My father nodded unhappily. "It is a great disappointment to me that Kell Island will not pass to one of my own children, but as you say, the combination of our superior genes would likely remedy that sad state of affairs."

Emerald nodded thoughtfully. "Very well, I will consider our union, but on two conditions. You and your daughter Eliza must refrain from orgasm for one full week, and you must wear these bracelets at all times during the week so that I will know you have done so." She handed over two silver bracelets.

"That's so unfair!" Eliza cried, and it took a supreme effort of will for me not to laugh.

My father pursed his lips unhappily. "Very well," he said, echoing Emerald's words. "But at the end of the week, you must allow me to bathe your face with all the cum I have stored up."

"And I will sit on your face until you make me come seven times," Eliza practically snarled.

Emerald laughed. "All agreed, then. Return here in one week - but only if you both pass the test!"

*

Neither my father nor my sister had ever thought to deny themselves orgasms. Indeed, for years my sister had regarded our father's cum as an essential part of her diet - "The perfect mid-morning snack," she would often say - and a quick fuck before bedtime had become part of their routine.

Without these regular releases, they were both thoroughly grumpy and clearly frustrated. When they weren't shouting at each other, they were shouting at me and the maids and the cook. By Day Three, the cook was calling in sick and both maids had gone on holiday ("Either that or we quit!"), leaving me to cover for them as best I could.

Days Four and Five they distracted themselves with shopping and theatre, and by Day Six it actually seemed like they could make it through the week without killing anyone. My father's cock seemed to be permanently rigid, and sometimes he feared to touch it at all. Eliza had Mistress Clay bind her in rope to keep her from touching herself.

But on Day Six we had a most unexpected visitor. I opened the door to find myself staring at my ethereally beautiful cousin. "Oh, hello," I said. By the shocked recognition in her expression, she hadn't expected to find me here. "I'm your cousin, Ana, by the way."

The shock gave way to sudden laughter, and she gave me a smile full of warmth and desire. "I'm Willa," she said. "I was in the area. Thought I'd pay my respects." Her words were polite. Her eyes said she wanted to fuck me where I stood. I can't deny I was tempted, but I remembered just how huge her cock was, and really wasn't sure my ass could handle it.

"It's really not a good time," I said. "Maybe you could come back in a couple of days?" Maybe in a couple of days I could get my ass nicely prepared for her...