Author's note and warning: the following story contains subject matter for mature audiences only. I won't list all the possible "offending topics", I'll just warn you that I don't get offended by much and I tend to forget what things might offend other people. All characters are adult.
Constructive criticism invited.
No actual dragons were harmed in the creation of this story.
Lissa
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Chapter 2 - Beginning
Catrin followed her father into the woods, wincing a little as he led her directly through the trees without finding any trail and the random sticks and rocks let her bare feet know why boots were invented. She briefly considered asking him to stop so she could put on her leather soft-soled boots - he called them socks - but decided she could live without them. She had to keep them good for winter, when being barefoot could cost her toes or worse. She wiggled her toes a little, enjoying the feeling of them rubbing against things unconfined, and watched her step more carefully.
The forest here was dense, old wood. Undergrowth only managed to survive a short distance in from the border with the farmland. After a few meters the ground cover cleared, leaving mostly a carpet of leaves and pine needles, and the walking became easier, except where trees had fallen and small areas around them sprouted vines and bushes of all sorts, including berries that Bradan and Catrin harvested whenever they came upon them. Often the logs were meters in length, covered in moss and vines that felt soft and soothing to Catrin's feet as she balanced on top and ran along the length until her father would change direction away, or she'd come to a place where the branches were too thick and she'd have to jump down and go around, enjoying the contrasting feeling of evergreen needles pricking at her soft instep and toes. Going from soft and squishy to dry and prickly woke up senses that had become complacent.
Bradan started out looking for the easiest places to walk, trying to avoid thickets and bushes that may have brambles or thorns that might scrape up Catrin's bare legs. Most of the forest was easy, but every once in a while he would find a long run of thicket or brush that would take him far out of his way to go around, and by mid afternoon he was too frustrated to bother, using one of his words to hack a path straight through. It wasn't good for the sword, but he could have Catrin fix it up when they found a place she could set up a workbench again, and he had a better one from the soldiers they'd disposed of.
The sound of water trickling over rocks alerted them to a stream to one side of their path, and they turned to chop through a heavy growth of bushes and brambles. Within just a few minutes they were able to see a wide, shallow stream flowing lazily over a bed of rocks and pebbles, its banks thick with underbrush and mossy rocks. They pushed through the remaining undergrowth and climbed onto a nearly flat stone that sloped gently into meandering water, staying near the top where the rough gray stone was clear of moss and algae.
Starting to push the straps of her pack down her arms, Catrin stopped and let her father do it for her, shivering a little as he removed her vest at the same time and a light breeze caressed her sweaty body, raising goosebumps and stiffening her nipples. When he tugged at the laces holding her skirt on she wiggled and let it fall off, wiggled her bare bottom at him, and stepped carefully down the rock. The moss felt dry at first touch, but as her feet crushed it the rock became slick and she had to move slowly to avoid sliding and losing her footing. Stepping into the water itself was a minor shock, causing her to gasp and pull back suddenly, losing her balance and falling, her bum slamming down on the rock. She yelped as she slid into the icy water.
Sitting in waist deep water, Cat reached underneath her to feel her sore bum, then leaned back on the slippery stone, letting the water run over her from toes to neck. As the water rinsed the sweat and urine from her scratched legs, removing the burning she'd been feeling for the last couple of hours, Catrin sighed in spite of the cold. She closed her eyes and wiggled her toes, letting tense, abused muscles try to relax. She wanted to use her magic to make herself feel better, but that was a tedious process requiring a lot more concentration than she could muster while feeling so many bruises, scratches and cuts. Her mother had taught her only the most minimal control of her magic, and only so that she wouldn't accidentally kill anyone with it. She sighed and let the numbing water remove the pains even though it was adding a different form of discomfort, and let her mind drift.
After only a few minutes of watching his daughter heal, Bradan had to turn away. The desire for her body was always calmed by seeing the magic work. It didn't matter that she didn't know she was using it, just having the curse was bad enough. Actually, that she used it without even knowing it probably made it worse, since that meant she also didn't have control of it; not that he believed anyone could truly control magic. As his lust faded he cut away the brush around the big rock and then a little back from the bank of the stream, making a clearing that would be a suitable camp for the evening. He had just finished lighting a fire when Catrin returned from the stream, dragging her pack with one hand and carrying her clothes in the other, smiling drowsily. She always looked so alluring in that mood and Bradan had to focus on making a dinner to suppress stirrings he had no intention of fulfilling.
Curling up naked by the fire, using her clothing as a pillow, Catrin looked at her legs, bemused. They had seemed so scraped and raw before she had rinsed them off in the stream, yet now they bore just the merest hints of pink scratches. She considered that maybe letting her pee run down her legs as she walked had irritated them into feeling worse. She shrugged and turned to the fire, letting the drowsiness of her cold bath last a little longer while she watched her father cutting some animal up for cooking. He puzzled her. At times he would be touching her affectionately, caressing her small breasts until her nipples ached, kissing her deeply, even, rarely, caressing the soft mound between her legs. Other times he seemed to be trying to avoid seeing her, turning to face odd directions or getting up and moving away to do small tasks that didn't really need doing.