The Mccallister Curse Pt 01

This is just a short note to say thankyou to some awesome people that have inspired me to actually write and finish a piece as well as publish it. Darth_Aussie and his crew thank you so much.

A special thanks to JasonT for help reading and helping edit this very first piece of mine.

To my potential readers out there just a few quick things

This story does contain futanari and will continue to do so. If that's not your thing I apologise but it will be a recurring part of this tale.

This part of the story has taken me a long time to write and while I am hoping part 2 will show up much quicker, I wouldn't expect it soon.

This story will probably have multiple different sexual themes and content and I will endeavour to put the correct tags on them as I go.

Prologue

Danielle was about to die.

She had been young and stupid or perhaps merely naïve, but in her own mind she had been completely and utterly in love.

It had begun unsurprisingly with a boy or more specifically a young man.

The previous summer a new noble family had moved into the manor overlooking the little village where she had spent her entire life.

It was not a poor village by any means, but neither was it prosperous, a few dozen houses and farmhouses, a blacksmith and a few other small stores, two inns and of course on the hilltop overlooking them all, the manor.

People got by and on occasion saved a little extra to pass onto the next generation. The arrival of new Lords and Ladies to their small part of the world would probably be the biggest event in the village for a generation if not two.

Danielle could remember thinking at the time "What have they done to end up here?"

As it was, the whole village turned out to watch their new masters arrive. A stupendous procession of burdened carts and gleaming carriages drawn out in a line, carrying everything the family needed and much it did not.

It was here that she first saw him.

Duncan McCallister of House McCallister, heir to Lord Ian McCallister and one of the six Great Houses of Steelhaven.

He was of course, tall and handsome, hair dark enough to almost be black and a very generous smile. He had been leaning out one of the carriage windows, waving and smiling at everyone they passed, particularly the young women of the village.

She hadn't noticed that at the time, she had been too busy staring at him, too distracted by his devilish good looks, to really focus on what he had been doing. But thinking back about it now, she could see it, the extra attention he gave them and the dark gleam in his eyes as he looked at them. If only she had seen it then, noticed that feral light, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Instead, she watched along with everyone else, caught up in the magic of the event. When Duncan's carriage had passed her, time seemed to slow and everything around them had ceased to exist, she just stared into those pale blue eyes, at a face that seemed just a touch too handsome. He smiled at her. She shivered, a chill running all the way down her spine. From that moment her fate was set, Danielle was hooked.

He filled her thoughts constantly. During the day chores and errands ended up taking twice as long or were forgotten entirely as she daydreamed of the darkly handsome man, about meeting him, talking to him and all manner of imagined futures they could have together.

The nights were worse and yet secretly desired even more. While the waking dreams were simple, hopeful things, the ones that came through the long dark hours of the night were something else.

They were desire.

They were sin.

Wickedness and lust all compressed into an intense realism that only dreams can provide.

All night, every night they came, till she awoke covered in sweat and twisted with the sheets of her humble cot. The images, the feelings, the lust, burning themselves into her brain.

She was on her back, Duncan above her. He held her arms above her head trapping her beneath him, his mouth crushing hers, tongues battling each other within as he ever so slowly pushed his thick length inside her, the legs spread wide by his hips. He sank into her warm depths, right to the hilt before pulling back just as slow. It was almost torturous. He never changed speed, whenever she tried to urge him on with ankles crossed behind him or tried to rise to meet him, he would stop. Burying his cock as deep into her core as he could or even worse leave her empty and craving.

Another dream.

He had her bent over her families dining table, a fist in her hair, the other grasping at her hip as he pummelled his cock into her. Each thrust sending a wave of ecstasy through her body and moans would escape her lips. The more she moaned the harder he fucked her, and the cycle would continue until she came screaming his name, her walls clamping down on his invader and he would swell and spasm and fill her with his cum, a cry of his own to match to her passion.

Another.

This time she was in large bed, silken scarves tied her limbs to the posts and candles burned brightly throughout the room, shadows flickering against the walls as Duncan hovered as the edge of her sight. His shadowed face smiling down at her, his teeth shining in the candlelight. He waved to someone outside her view and they came forwards. A man and woman, both lean and pale and beautiful, faces never remembered when she woke. Only Duncan would be remembered.

They would lean over her to either side, hot mouths and smooth lips descending on her breasts, sucking, nibbling, their teeth gently biting her nipples and pulling them away from her heaving chest. Their hands would traverse her skin, softly running down her body, the inside of her legs but always avoiding her most intimate of places. They would work her to a frenzy and then Duncan would descend.

He trailed warm kisses up the inside of her legs, his breath tickling her skin and finally after an eternity his mouth would close over wet folds and he would assault her with his tongue.

That one would always wake her. The ecstasy she felt could no longer be contained by her slumber and she would awaken to damp sheets and unfulfilled desire.

There were other dreams also. Darker dreams. Dreams that terrified more than they aroused. They did not come often, rare enough to be dismissed as merely nightmares conjured from her tortured lusts.

She hung from the ceiling, or Danielle guessed it was the ceiling. Something covered her eyes, a rough fabric pulled tightly and blocking the light and leaving her trapped in darkness. Her hands were tightly bound behind her, the same course fabric cutting slightly into her skin, the legs spread open, feet pulled upwards and away. Rough hands grabbed her head, she gasped and hard cock filled her mouth, pushing deep and hard into her throat. She choked and it withdrew if only for a second, then it was back violating her mouth again and again.

It was not alone, a tongue traced its way briefly across her slit before disappearing and another cock took its place, spearing its hard length into her. It showed as little concern for her as the one choking her did. Pushing to the hilt and withdrawing only to be slammed back in again. They fell into a rhythm, filling her and leaving her. Again, and again and again till they came, the one in her mouth pulling back to paint her face, the other thrusting deep into her and releasing its load within her depths. She heard them groan, and then she was free of them, their hands and cocks disappearing, feet shuffling in the darkness. Then new hands and new cocks and it was time to go again. A whole procession of them, too many to count, using her as toy for their pleasure before leaving their mark. Cumming on her face, her breasts and back or deep within her, some choosing to sink their throbbing meat into her tight ass instead and she would whimper as lights flashed in the darkness of her blindfold as they stretched her ass and pushed into her tight hole again and again as they blew their loads into her ass.

On and on it would go until she woke, incredibly aroused, but fearful, ashamed and confused. Wishing dreams of Duncan had visited her that night instead.

With dreams like those and the naivety of young woman, it was unsurprising that things progressed the way they did. By the end of the summer Danielle had been convinced their love was one for the ages.

She had managed to get work within the manor, something insignificant for a little extra coin for her family and had stumbled upon Duncan alone in a corner of the house. He had looked so handsome and noble and she had not been able to help herself.

Going to him, basking in his presence, glued to those pale eyes she had confessed her love to him. He had smiled at her and fed her honeyed lies and she had believed him like a fool, that he had watched her from afar, that he needed her, that he loved her too. And all the while that dark gleam shone in his eyes, brighter than ever.

Soon enough he was making her dreams reality, he could think of any number of tasks at the manor that were suitable cover for their hidden love and somehow, they always came to her, she would act put upon but in need of coin and would walk to the manor in an apparent sulk right up until she stepped inside, and he would whisk her away to and empty room and he would act the part of caring lover while he used her.

To her it had been perfect, her noble handsome Duncan bringing her more joy than she had thought possible. But all good things must come to an end and they did suddenly and in a way her innocent view had not thought possible.

They had carried on their little charade for months, everything had seemed perfect, she was in heaven and then she had gone to the manor to share with Duncan what she had believed to be fantastic news.

He was to be a father, she was pregnant.

The response she received was not the one she had imagined. There was no cheering, no cries of joy and a tearful embrace, no exclamations of love or laughter. Instead, all that she received had been a deep foreboding silence. Duncan had looked at her, his handsome face a mask, no visible expression crossing his visage, not even an inkling in his pale eyes. Then he had stood from his position on the sofa in the lounge where she had taken him to share the good news, he had looked at her again, then turned and strode away, leaving her sitting alone, in shock and on the verge of tears.

Not knowing what else to do she had gone home to try and figure out what she had done wrong, why Duncan had rejected her. What was she going to do? The very next morning she had received her answer.

Shouting and loud banging on the door to her family's modest house had awoken her from troubled slumber and she had been barely awake when she opened the door. She hadn't heard what they had been yelling till it was too late.

Duncan had not been idle. As soon as Danielle had left the manor he had gone to his father with the unwanted news. His family had been banished to this flyspeck of a village because the other great families of Steelhaven feared them and the powers they had gained. Some little farmer's whore could not be allowed to interfere with their plans.

Lord Ian McCallister was a sombre man, tall and dark haired like his son, but gaunt and with an aura of power and wisdom that seemed to radiate from his very body. He commanded and people obeyed. He had taken the news well; he had of course been expecting it considering the number of girls his son had been dallying with. It had only been a matter of time. He was ready and a plan was put into motion. His family would not be sullied by common blood.

Danielle was about to die.

The crowd was screaming at her, her friends, her family, people she had known her entire life. Hurling vile obscenities and hateful names. But most of all they were screaming Witch!

She shook her head, the blow she had taken when opening the door that morning still had it ringing as she tried to move. The mob had done its work well. Danielle was helpless, tied to a thick pole in the middle of the town square, a few townspeople still piling bundles of kindling at her feet while most stood back and jeered.

"Silence!" Came a roared command from beyond Danielle's sight.

In an instant there was, a deathly calm covering the entire square. The townsfolk ceasing their yelling and only the small clatter of wood being piled upon wood could be heard.

Danielle watched as the mob parted before her, an aisle of men and women forming for the man who had doomed her. "Duncan, what are you doing? What is happening?"

Duncan strode towards her, a malicious smirk gripping his face, his clear voice laced with mockery. "Ah my love, is it not obvious to you? Is it not clear? You are a witch and we simply cannot tolerate that. You will be burnt, and you will die." The mockery was gone by the end, replaced by a vicious glee as he reached her pyre, standing barely an arm's length away from her.

"But I'm not a witch! I love you; I need you." The pleading within her voice surprising even Danielle.

"I know," he smirked, then again that malicious smile "But so, do all the others."

Raising his arms to the side, hands gesturing in summons.

Danielle could not believe it. Two, three, four, five, six. Six girls all sidled towards Duncan and draped themselves around him. Her heart shattered.

Duncan could see it in her face, in her eyes, that exact moment when dreams were crushed, and he found it glorious. He could not help himself, he had to gloat, it was just too much of a temptation.

"You were never the only one" he crowed.

He gestured to the girls.

"I've had them all, right from that very first day. Just like you. You were never special, I never loved you, you were just a plaything, just a toy, just like everyone else in this stupid little village is a plaything for the McCallisters, little toys for us to amuse ourselves with and discard as we wish. They won't even remember you by the time this is done."

"Enough." A deep foreboding voice carried its way across the square.

The word seemed to come from nowhere to Danielle, so entranced had she been by Duncan's diatribe she had failed to notice the powerful Lord of the McCallister's presence in the square. Danielle's eyes fixed on him as he too came to stand before her. Duncan's presence seemed to wilt as the Lord came closer and she realised that this was the man who controlled today's event, this is the man who would see her dead.

She could only whisper one word to him such did she feel diminished by his presence so close to her.

"Why?"

Lord McCallister seemed surprised when she spoke, that she could do even much and looked her in the eyes.

"Such a strong will. It is a pity you are not of The Families; we could use that. The why is because you are an interference and that cannot be allowed. We McCallisters have a plan and anything that gets in the way will be exterminated," he replied.

There was no reply from Danielle, his words so matter of fact, so plain and powerfully spoken that she could not think of anything to try and dissuade him. Lord McCallister looked to the mob of townspeople hovering, watching and waiting.

"A torch, so that we may burn the witch" he said.

It took less than a minute and then he was turning back to Danielle, torch in hand, flame burning bright and high. She had slumped in her bonds now, seeming to accept the inevitable. Three short steps and he tossed the torch into the waiting lumber at her feet. The sudden arrival of the flame seemed to awaken her as she jerked away from it, or tried to, the bonds allowing little of such an action.

The fire spread around the base of her pyre quickly, the heat upon her rising sharply and as it did, so did Danielle's anger. A terrible anger finally awoken at the very last moment. She raised her head, the McCallisters were already walking away, not even bothering to watch the fiery climax of their murderous scheme.

"HEAR ME MCCALLISTER!"

Danielle's voice cracked across the square, striking the retreating figures like a blow. Lord and son jerked and turned as one at the unexpected cry to gaze upon the pyre. The flames were climbing higher, half of Danielle's dress was alight with flame, but she did not scream nor cry. She transfixed the McCallisters with her gaze. Furious, unyielding anger making them glow more than any reflection of the burning wood could possibly do. The fire consuming her making her appearance demonic and unholy.

"I Curse you McCallister. I Curse you and all your blood!

"May the eyes of heaven be eternally blinded to your blasted fates!

"May the denizens of Hell hunt you and yours, till the very last of you is dust!

"May the dark lusts that have blinded me from truth and cost me my life be carried till the very end of time by your family heirs!

"This trinity of hatred I lay upon you and yours as the price you must pay for killing me!"

Before the Cursed words had ended, they could see nothing but flame, Danielle had been wholly consumed in the inferno but still the words came as if spoken by the very fire itself. And then laughter. No screams, no cries for mercy or salvation. Just a Curse and laughter that was entirely more mocking than any Duncan had ever produced.

Lord McCallister stood and watched the pyre burn till it was naught but ash and embers. The blasted girl had been a damned witch, a convenient lie had become a monstrous truth. He had felt the Curse, felt it settle upon him, into his bones and blood. It had been a true Curse, a dying Curse from a murdered witch. A doom for his family.

He had seen it hit Duncan, his son, his heir. His own sins bringing the dark princeling to his knees. His body folding beneath weight of his doom, the price he would have to pay for his mistake too much for the young McCallister.

But he. He was Lord Ian McCallister. The most powerful, the most brilliant, the most dangerous McCallister in generations and he would not be undone by the dying words of a burning witch. It was time for another plan.

Part 1

Sara swore and another piece of clothing went flying out of the wardrobe, across the room and landed amongst a rapidly growing pile of previously discarded clothes atop the bed, she knew it was in here somewhere. Another piece of clothing went flying.

"Where the hell is it?" she muttered.

The irritation clear in her soft voice and another piece joined the pile. A few minutes later and several more items of apparel joined the heap on the bed

"Booyah!" was the sudden cry of victory that reverberated throughout the room.

Sara turned from the wardrobe, fists raised in triumph above her head, a mass of black fabric clenched in one of them. Kicking the door of her wardrobe closed with a lazy flick of her heel, Sara chose to ignore the new mountain occupying her bed and walked around it to her mirror.

Full length and black framed it leant against a wall next to her computer desk on one side of her room, unfurling the black mass in her hand and smoothing it down her front, Sara took a look at what she was planning on wearing out that night. It was almost a little black dress, the almost stemming from the fact it was quite a bit shorter than what was practical and the amount of cleavage it would show could almost be illegal. She grinned. It was perfect for a night of drinking, partying and shameless flirtation, it would drive the boys crazy with lust.

Turning left, then right, left again Sara took in all the angles, she knew it would look good because frankly she knew she looked good, and that was probably an understatement. She was slim, but with subtle curves to her waist, generous firm breasts of a seemingly gravity defying nature, killer toned legs topped by a heart shaped ass, pale smooth skin and the deepest silky black hair that fell well past her shoulders. She looked like a proper goddess of the night world.