Full Bloom In Winter

Author's Notes: This story is erotic fantasy written by Etaski. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. © Etaski 2010

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This story, like most of my others, is based in current fantasy game settings and I tend to favor more "evil" personalities. Please be warned that this particular story has heavy incest overtones which are appropriate in defining the characters. If you've read "The Fiendish Codex II: Tyrants of the Nine Hells," this should not seem out of place.

If that is not to your taste, I have given fair warning. The rest, please enjoy.

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Indrath Rousse, Lord of the Arcanum and the foundation of control within the icy city of Winter Home, was scrying on his daughter. He still felt the acute thrill and almost fierce pride as he regularly tasted her dreams these past two years and knew she had begun to awaken. He had seen the signs of the Ardeur—that which would become the source and fuel of her magic, as it was in himself. The Ardeur had begun to mature within her body.

Perhaps he'd sensed it before that point, and perhaps he'd always hoped for it.

Now he knew for certain: unlike some of his earlier offspring, she would—in truth—become like him.

Lady Indra was named for her father, sheltered and raised by him and his loyal servants in Rousse Manor. She was Fey'ri, and she had received a fine education exploring both of her heritages—diabolic and elven—as well as that of the city which may become her own with time, if not in name, then in its politics and economics and resources.

In practice, however, she had known mostly leisure and play. Indulgence and affection were hers in abundance as her powerful parent doted on her youthful desires during the first century of her life.

Now those desires were to mature and swell, and very rapidly, if Indra's current enthusiasm was any indication.

He could see through his scrying circle into his daughter's bedroom. Her head and shoulders rested on her pillow, and her devil-red rear end raised up in the air as she kept her knees wide. Her maroon wings stretched out to the sides and were trembling as she used a smooth wooden phallus to repeatedly violate the netherhole just beneath her prehensile tail, which was lashing side to side in an excited S-curve. Her clawed fingers tapped and rubbed at her mound in a most knowing way. Scrying did not normally allow for sound unless he put much more power into it, but still he could see her lips parted and her blank, yellow eyes half-closed. He could imagine the small squeals and canine whimpers as she wallowed in the pleasure which was fast becoming her power.

In spite of all his abilities and influence, in spite of his connections and privilege, he soon had to accept that he must rely on others to satisfy her properly, to protect her and allow her to explore her nature so that her development was not hindered.

Jealous heat settled more frequently in his middle these days at the reflection, but he knew the necessity. There was no doubt in Lord Indrath's mind that the dreams he'd been sending his daughter would not keep her satisfied for much longer.

If she were to leave the Manor to find that which she craved...? He shuddered to think of what might happen.

So he was responsible for finding her first lovers. They must be skilled, well-formed, with better-than-average endurance, for she would be hungry. They must not quail at the thought of whose daughter they penetrated and marked with their seed, but nor must they take too much pride in that fact. These would be difficult to find, but Indrath knew they existed. He had one or two in mind to start.

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"Enter, daughter."

Indrath could see her nipples through the thin, purple gown that she'd donned in her hurry to answer his summons. He could see the brightness in her eyes, feel the distracted air, and he could hear the frustrated, grumbling animal much lower in her consciousness. She made sure the door of his study latched behind her before she came forward with the grace of her station.

He had interrupted her self-dalliance on purpose.

As Indra drew nearer to his broad, luxurious desk, he could also smell her. She was likely still wet between her thighs, with nothing on beneath the gown, which was a close shade to her own mid-length, violet hair. It would seem the apple of his eye hoped this meeting would be quick so she might return to her quarters and not have to resort to the apothecary's lubricants to begin exploring again.

*My dear, you are so exquisite. And so much like me,* he thought privately.

"You sent for me, Father?"

His trained ear could detect the husky quality easily, the slight quaver. She was no doubt so sensitive by now—enhanced by being drawn away from relative privacy and into the presence of others who may not know how her soft inner thighs were slick against each other. He did not figure it would take much to get her to accept what he wished of her.

He smiled genuinely and warmly, knew well by now the effect it had on her, and he could almost hear her heart trip when he stepped around the large oak desk, opening his arms. "Yes, my heart's gift."

She was stiff for the slightest moment as he embraced her—this was unusual, as she normally fell greedily into any hug he offered—and he thought he knew why. She was just that small bit confused: she was aroused, and he smelled good and warm, and he loved her. The pulse of desire manifested in a brief thought that he glimpsed in her mind through their blood connection: she would lay upon his desk, her tail curling around his thigh as her legs opened wide, and she would have him.

He had only to ask.

*Ask me...* That lower consciousness of hers whispered seductively to him. *Take me. Make me feel good, I know you can.

*I trust you.*

He had not been so challenged in many years. It took more strength of will than he cared to admit to resist her unspoken plea, to withdraw gently and smile down at her, touching her cheek.

"Indra," his voice was smooth and magnetic, demanding attention whether he was declaring an order or coaxing a sacrifice into his bed or onto his altar. "I have brought someone for you."

Lord Indrath stepped back a little more and gestured to the silent man who had been seated before and had stood up upon Indra entering. Both of them knew she had not even noticed him in the presence of her powerful parent and her own distraction, but she did now.

Her pupilless eyes raked over him, seeing only a human man—complete with round ears, not pointed like her own—of tall stature, taller than her, and a fighter's build. His skin, like many natives of Winter Home, was very pale, and the hair on his head was fair, a lovely thick gold, cut short, his crisp chest hair peeking through his shirt only somewhat darker by comparison. His typical round, human eyes where white with warm brown irises, giving her the impression of depth, as if a devil could look into him without trying to pluck out his thoughts from the ether.

As humans went, he was reasonably handsome, but not stunning, not exotic. He wore cured leather breeches and a black belt, tough outdoor boots, and an attractive, blue, long-sleeved shirt appropriate for the climate, though his fur cloak or coat must be hung elsewhere, for it would not be nearly warm enough outside. He was forgettable in a room of extraordinary and powerful members of the Arcanum or the Guilds, but would make most women of his race smile as they looked upon him, his strength and height working in his favor if he was presented as a potential stud.

The man bowed at the waist and lowered his eyes. "Lady Indra."

Indra seemed to understand during the pregnant pause which followed. This may actually be what her father was presenting her: a stud. Her gaze shifted from the blonde man back to her father, eyes a little wider now. Indrath grinned at her, seeing her youth—excited at the potential but momentarily at a loss what to do—and his wings that matched hers flexed and rustled a bit as he shifted yet another step away from her and gestured for the blonde man to come forward.

"Daddy—" she began as if to protest, but then the man kneeled down in front of her and took the hem of her slim, thin gown and began to lift it.

Once the silk reached her knees, his hands clasped the material to her thighs and kept sliding it upward, shuffing and gliding over the deep red skin. The blonde head disappeared just beneath the bunched fabric, his mouth pressing to her crotch but out of direct view of anyone in the room. Indra's expression, however, told it all—shock, bewilderment, then utter, enraptured pleasure.

"Oh..." She quivered, trying to keep her feet as her knees grew less stable.

Indrath watched, wishing he could take the shoulder straps of her V-necked gown and pull them down. Her breasts clearly wished to be released of their confines as they strained before his eyes. But...that was not his place tonight. Not tonight.

The man's left hand abandoned its place holding up her gown as it moved between his daughter's legs. Indrath could feel Indra's sensations dart through the air as the blunt, thick finger pushed into her ripe core. By the sound of it...yes, she was still quite wet from her activities prior to her summoning.

Indra cried out and hunched over as she again had to work to keep her balance. Her jaw was slack and hands finally moved to touch the man's blonde hair, her clawed fingers combing through it and applying gentle pressure to keep his mouth in place. All this as she still stared at her Father several paces away.

*Daddy—*

*I'm impressed, daughter, that you can still reach me this way.*

*You want...this?*

*That is immaterial. Do you want this?*

Her head nodded almost immediately, her eyes still wide and expressing awe. *I ache...I've been aching...so often. My dreams do not feed me anymore. I want this, I just...didn't know how to ask.*

Indrath relaxed his own tightly-controlled aura just a little, letting his potent energy mix with that hot, chaotic turmoil surrounding his offspring. She gasped and finally her eyes closed. Her body trembled and her wings did a reflexive flap as she uttered a rougher sound, lusty and growling. "Yes..."

The Fey'ri Lord had to take another step back from the pair in order not to become ensnared but gestured again, this time to his desk. "Balance yourself, daughter. You must show some control."

Indra clearly didn't want to move or to stop; she looked instead as if she would rather drop to her knees right there on the floor. She began to sink.

*Control.* His mental demand caused an additional shudder to go through her.

*What...difference does it make?* She struggled to send the thought to him, her mind's voice sluggish as lush, sloppy sounds came from beneath her dress.

*Because you are Lady Indra Rousse, my daughter. You will indulge in this, you must, and you will enjoy every moment. But either you will control the Ardeur, or it will control you. Every lover will be watching, they will see each time you succeed and each time you fail. If you don't remember your failures and your successes as well as they will, you will not last long in Winter Home.

*And I will not lose you that quickly.*

Trembling now, blinking at him as her play had just gotten more serious, Indra sucked in a breath and clenched her fingers into the blonde man's hair, tugging on it and trying to step back. He responded like a suckling pig refusing to leave his sow's teat, burrowing his head further in, his jaw working as he mouthed her, his fingers still embedded in her twat and his free hand still gripping her thigh. She looked at her father helplessly for a moment, and he frowned back at her.

Her Lord's disapproval was enough to cool her fires that little bit. She got a new grip on the man's hair and yanked hard, causing him to cry out in pain. "Come," she said hoarsely, "take your hand from me and follow me."

The lower half of the man's face glistened, as did his left hand, as he leaned back to let her dress drop and he blinked up at her, his gaze as hazy with lust as any Domination spell she'd ever witnessed. To her knowledge, however, no such spell had been cast on him.

She still held onto his hair as she stepped on wobbly legs closer to her father's desk, and the man crawled, seeming quite willing to follow that way. She noticed he kept his three wet fingers on his left hand from actually touching the floor. He hoped to put them back inside, perhaps.

When she reached the desk, she first started to settle onto her elbows, bent at the waist and presenting her backside to the blonde man. Then she looked almost nervously over her shoulder toward her father; perhaps he wouldn't approve—?

Her father was gone.

She looked toward the other side of the study, over her other shoulder, trying to locate him. Then she looked back around again. She couldn't see him no matter where she looked.

Indra was trying to decide if he'd left or merely made himself invisible—she was having difficulty sensing his aura at all— when she felt the blonde man raising her dress again, this time sliding his hands along the backs of her thighs. He exposed most of her buttocks and she immediately felt his mouth on her again, gently biting and sucking on her as his hands massaged and squeezed the fiery-colored globes. Her tail automatically curled upward toward her spine, hovering over her back as the last bit coiled around itself, quivering alongside her breathing.

*Ohhh...feels good...*

Lord Indrath hadn't left, of course; she only could no longer sense him nor see him. He would not leave his daughter entirely to something so new and powerful without a protector, a watcher. Tonight, he was that protector. If all went well, the man currently swirling his tongue between his daughter's cheeks may take on that role, for a short time, until he trained a more powerful guardian.

But for now, she didn't need to be certain he was watching.

Just as in the dreams Indrath had sent her, just as he'd known she would, Indra slowly relaxed and gave in to the Ardeur. She rested her torso on the desk and reached back both hands to pull her buttocks further apart, breathy and demanding the blonde human take full advantage of the access to her depths.

Indrath, knowing he'd have to practice this many times, soothed the protective and jealous heat when the man did as she bid him, his fingers plunging back into her and his tongue spearing her rosebud. Now Indrath could hear what he hadn't been able earlier; she was shrieking and squealing in pleasure, gasping and cooing, her body demanding more.

Her power—once she learned to build, focus and control it—would be formidable. Tonight, however, she would simply be taken while awake, for the first time in her young life. It was a formality at this point; she had already used many false phalli in every hole, knew what to expect, her mind had been introduced already to so many sordid delights that she nearly believed she had already experienced them.

However, despite the power within being stoked quite hot through her dreams, it still needed to be coupled with the physical connection to another aura to be ignited. Ignited and controlled. The power running the conduit between her and her breathing lovers would be much more intimidating than those in her dreams. Her power would feed the lust of her lover as well as her own, pushing them both to new heights.

If she was truly of devil-blood, as her heritage proclaimed, then the chaotic thrashing of the Ardeur within would frighten her, and she would have to do something about it or be overwhelmed by it.

She would realize this before the end of tonight.

The human was standing up now, hurriedly unbuckling his belt and unfastening his breeches, his erection clearly straining for freedom. She was encouraging him, still holding herself open for him, and Indrath doubted the man knew just how lucky he was. He was the one whom the Lord had chosen and, for now, the fair-haired one could only think about pleasing his beloved daughter.

Indrath felt the penetration as Indra was mounted for the first time, its intensity flinging the sensation across the mind-gap between them. She screamed shrilly, closing her eyes against the very different feel of a living, warm body fitting inside hers. The blonde man took firm hold of her hips, his hands incredibly white against her dark red skin, and humped her like the breeder that he was, hard and fast. She let go of her buttocks to grip the desk where she could, only reaching the edge directly in front of her.

The Lord of the Manor breathed out slowly as he listened to their mixed grunts and squeals, their flesh slapping together as they coupled.

The first coherent thing to leave his daughter's mouth, he thought, was a choked, hoarse "daddy" as she was swept up to the orgasm from which she'd been interrupted earlier. Her claws dug into the thick oak and her tail sought the man's torso, trying to wrap around it instinctively. Her wings flailed and she tensed and shook, the thrusting male behind her not letting up as she lay helpless to the sensations.

When she'd gone lax again, Indra tried to get her hands beneath her to push herself up, but the blonde man had only to press a hand on her back between her wings to settle her back down. Indrath's daughter behaved almost as if she were drunk and confused as the man continued rutting with her.

Indrath mentally tapped into the man's endurance, subtly tweaking it to reduce the sensitivity of his prick a bit so that he was far from finished.

The design of Indra's gown was such that her tail could be threaded through a hole sewn at the small of her back, and it was this which presented an obstruction to the man exposing any more of his Lady's skin. In what should have been an unforgivable offense, he grabbed hold of the base of her tail and jerked the gown further up while he pulled down on it, soon freeing the prehensile appendage and pushing it to the side. Next the blonde man slammed his hips against hers, holding her impaled against the desk as strong hands tore at the hole of her dress, soon ripping it up and down and throwing the gown open like a reverse robe to expose her back from nape to cunt. Then he reached around her wobbly wings to pull at the shoulder straps of her gown.

The blonde man was determined to strip her utterly naked. Groaning incoherently, Indra was unable to stop, direct, or help him, so he did as his lust demanded. He remained mostly clothed, and she was being dominated.

The big, human hands tugged the cloth free from under her then moved from her hips all the way up to her shoulders where he gripped her. There was a squelching noise as he withdrew his cock from her drooling orifice. His hips shifted to a new position and he drew back on her shoulders, forcing her to arch her back.

He spoke only two words— "Spread yourself"— and Indra dazedly obeyed. She reached back again, fumbling a little, to part her buttocks. Instantly the man pressed hard against her star, beginning to sink in immediately since she'd been teasing that orifice earlier. Indra gasped then groaned.

Indrath had watched it all, witnessed as the purple cloth was peeled down his daughter's body, her hair of nearly the same color covering her face. He watched as her broad expanse of skin the brightest diabolic red was exposed, her tail thrashing erratically as she was made to arch backward with her breasts thrust forward, as she obeyed the human's simple command. He watched the human sodomize his daughter with urgent force. Her whimpers and moans as the blonde bucked against her tugged at Indrath's heart, but she remained bent over and unable to gather back her control that she'd lost during her first climax.