Blood of My Kin

Another discalaimer: This story comtains sexual content involving a minor and incest(kind of). If either of those bother you, you probably shouldn't read this. This story also does not at all imply that I condone either Incest of Pedophilia. You've been warned.


Blood of My Kin
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The halls echoed as two blades crashed together, the metallic clang reverberating from the cold stone. Two figures stepped back from one another, not wanting to compromise their distance.

One figure, smaller than the other, frowned in concentration. Her pretty red eyes, however, refused to remain fixed upon her target. Not the way she wanted them to.

Her opponent, a tall, pale man garbed in aristocratic clothing, smirked at her. He, too, had glowing eyes, identical to hers, partially hidden under an unruly, yet dignified head of blonde locks. He stepped forward, causing her to snap out of her daze and distance herself accordingly.

“Something on your mind?” He took another step closer. She didn’t retreat this time, but instead lunged in, her rapier pointed ahead. It was a foolish move, she realized as she acted.

Her father sidestepped fluidly, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. He pulled her to him, causing her to gasp as he subdued her. It was over in seconds, his forearm under her chin, the thin blade of his rapier slipped under an elegant curl of her fiery hair, the cool tip tickling her skin. She quivered.

“You’re dead,” he said, the usual smugness of his voice underscored with a slight disappointment. “What’s troubling you, Amy? You know better than to make such mistakes.”

Raphael released his grip, and the young girl retreated from him. She refused to make eye contact.

“It’s nothing, father,” she lied, her deceit as obvious to herself as it was to him. “I’m just not feeling my best, I suppose…”

“I see…” he replied, thoroughly unconvinced. But he knew his daughter. She was independent, had always been. She could take care of herself, whatever the problem was.

“Very well,” he resigned. “I suppose we’ll stop here for today. Get some rest. It’s an important day for you tomorrow.”

With one last encouraging smile, Raphael Sorel turned from his daughter and walked towards the exit of the cold stone hall. Amy’s eyes followed him out.

“Yes, father…”

…

She lay awake in her room, garbed in a fine lavender nightgown, lying upon her luxurious four poster bed. The light of dawn poured through the single tall window of her room, the stained glass softly painting her pale skin with colors. All around her were lavish possessions, but still she lay awake in misery.

It was the morning of her birthday. Later in the evening, when her and father woke, they would celebrate her fifteenth anniversary. She tilted her head, looking down upon her body. She certainly didn’t feel any older. Ever since that day, when father had stumbled home, bleeding and near death, she hadn’t aged a day. Something had changed that day, in the both of them.

Father told her that it was because of Soul Edge. It had turned them into something powerful, more than human. For the most part, she rather liked it. They mostly slept during the day, but at night, oh at night, she felt like she never had before. She felt powerful, like she could accomplish any feat she set her mind to. It came at a small price. She had never really cared for anyone, except for father, of course, and she felt little remorse for the humans she fed upon, if at all.

Yet, as her birthday approached, she felt troubled. She hadn’t aged in body, but felt much older in soul. She felt that her thoughts and emotions had matured, and that she was indeed approaching womanhood. She had begun to feel things, things she had never felt previously. She knew what it was, the concept of lust, and desire. Before father had taken her to live with him, she had come and gone in different orphanages, where there were no secrets or mysteries amongst the children.

But feeling these emotions was so much different than hearing them whispered about while the nursemaids weren’t around. She longed to fulfill the desires, more than anything. She would gladly trade any lavish gifts she might receive at her birthday celebration.

But it didn’t seem to be fated for her. There was, after all, only one person she could ever conceive letting touch her that way, the only one she wanted to touch her. But she knew it couldn’t be. She was a daughter to him, nothing more than his little princess. She couldn’t bear the shame of him finding out, the look of disgust and disappointment he would surely wear. He was hers, the way she wanted him, only in her dreams.

Amy closed her crimson eyes, trying to sleep, wanting to dream of Raphael. She ran her fingertips over the fabric of her nightgown, stimulating her nipples. She had grown quite a bit before she had stopped aging, and her body was curved and petite, not quite womanly, but close. She groped her own breast, her other hand making it’s way down, practiced in the nightly ritual. Her prissily manicured nails tickled at her midriff, causing her pale, milky skin to tighten in goose bumps.

She crept lower, her legs arched as she rubbed at her moist lips, naked under her nightdress. Her other hand left her breasts and traveled up to her blood red locks, tangling as she rubbed and probed herself. She inhaled sharply, biting her lip with her pointed fang to keep from moaning, her free hand diving to join her other in the deed.

She arched her back as she came, a stuttering groan escaping her throat and passing her pursed lips. She fell back onto the mattress. Like the time before, and the time before that, she found the act less and less satisfying.

Amy fell into a light and disappointed sleep, her room growing bright as the sun continued to rise outside.

…

“Happy birthday, my darling.”

Amy stood at the head of the long dining room table, staring down the vast stretch, at all the gifts compiled for her, a mountain of diversely shaped and colored parcels, all topped in pretty bows. All of them extravagant. All of them meaningless.

Raphael stood beside her, examining her face. He could not decipher her sorrow.

“Amy,” he finally asked. “What’s wrong?”

His daughter met his crimson eyes with her own, her cute dimples showing in a small, forced smile.

“Nothing, father,” she lied. “Everything is wonderful.” She stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Raphael returned her embrace, his hand atop her head, affectionately, paternally. Amy felt her heart sink deeper.

“Amy,” her father tried once more. “I know you’re troubled. What’s the matter?”

She looked up at him, their eyes meeting. She knew he could see through her lies, though she may try to hide them. Her eyes began to well with tears.

“Father, I…” she choked. “I love you so much…” She hugged him tighter, her tears flowing freely.

“Amy,” Raphael said, his voice colored with slight laughter. “I love you, too.” He freed himself from his embrace, crouching on one knee, so that he was eye level with her. He pressed his forehead to hers, giving her a comforting smile.

“You are all I care for in this wretched world,” he said to her. “I would do anything for you. Tell me what troubles you.”

Amy said nothing, only staring into her father’s reassuring eyes, her vision slightly blurred by the remaining tears. She found it hard to disregard her trust in him. She wanted so badly to say to him what she said in her dreams. To touch be touched as she was in her dreams. It was possible now, as close as they were. She leaned in, her lips grazing his before he darted back in surprise. He stumbled and landed sitting down, an uncharacteristically clumsy gesture. His eyes were wide with shock, unblinking as he looked at his daughter.

“Amy…” he managed, unable to follow it with anything else. Amy felt the shame she had imagined as Raphael stared disbelievingly. Still, it was too late to take it back. She crept closer to him, leaning over his body to try to kiss him again.

“Please…” she started, stopping herself from calling him father. That couldn’t be helping. “You’re the only one I want…” There lips touched again, more connected this time, a legitimate kiss.

Raphael couldn’t believe what was happening. This was his daughter. Not truly his flesh and blood, but his precious child, nonetheless. He couldn’t allow this to happen. Not because it was wrong. He knew the taboos of human cultures. Incest, not to mention her age. That hardly mattered to him. He was beyond mortal men, them and their social constructs. Amy’s opinion was the only one that mattered to him. That was why he couldn’t. This would undoubtedly change the bond between them. He pulled away from his daughter’s lips.

“Amy, I can’t,” he said. “You’re my daughter.” To his surprise, this seemed to be what Amy wanted to hear. She smiled, the first authentic smile he had seen on her in the last few days.

“I’ll still be your daughter,” she said to him. “I promise.” She leaned in and kissed him again, more passionately this time. Her father did not resist. There tongues met, the sensation more than Amy had expected. Every detail, every caress, everything was wonderful. Her hands ran under Raphael’s shirt, her nails scratching eagerly at his abdominals.

Presently, the two of them were still on the cold stone floor, Amy straddled atop Raphael. He stood up, hoisting Amy up with one strong arm under her bottom. He stepped toward the dining table and, with a quick swipe of his free arm, knocked all the clutter aside, clearing a space for them. Amy watched momentarily as several of her birthday gifts tumbled to the ground. She was glad to see them fall. They were trivial compared to the gift she was currently receiving.

Raphael set Amy down on the fine linen tablecloth. She watched him, entranced, as he removed his shirt, revealing his perfect body. They were fighters, the both of them, and were both in peak physical condition.

Amy met his eyes, keeping him watching as she slowly shed her own clothing. She wore an elaborate single piece black dress, along with fishnet stockings and boots. She provocatively slipped the dress down her shoulders, gradually revealing she was wearing nothing underneath, loving every second of her father’s eyes upon her as she revealed her breasts, her midriff, her thighs. She lay on her back, her legs up in the air as she lifted the dress over them, revealing herself, now adorned only in her stockings and boots.

She rose to her knees on the table again, pleased to see Raphael’s eyes still upon her body. She reached to him and hooked her fingers over the hem of his pants, pulling him to her. She pulled down his pants, letting them fall around his ankles, and pulled him yet closer to herself by his erection, causing him to gasp. It was enormous, partially due to the fact that she herself was so small. It would hurt, she knew, which only furthered her excitement. Pain was part of the experience, and she wanted all of it.

She took a precursory lick the tip before wrapping her lips around it, her mouth barely cupping around the head. She turned her scarlet eyes, up to her father, smiling around his member as she saw his expression of pleasure, encouraging her to take him deeper into her. The pointed fangs of her canines grazed his erection as she moved back and forth on him, adding sensation.

Amy took hold of her father’s hand, pushing his fingers through her hair as she continued her ministrations, taking his member deeper and deeper each time, stretching her mouth, the tip reaching well into her throat.

Finally she released him, causing him to gasp in surprise. She lay back again, her legs pointed up in the air, giving Raphael a view as she slipped her finger between her legs, readying herself. She gasped as she felt the engorged tip press at her entrance. She parted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, so he could lean over her. They kissed again, Amy gasping into his mouth as she felt him begin to press inside. He went halfway before retreating, only to press in further just afterwards. He took his time, moving slowly, tenderly, not wanting to hurt her. It was nice, but not what she wanted. She leaned up to his ear, whispering into it.

“Don’t be gentle with me,” she said. “I want all of it.”

Raphael said nothing, responding physically instead. He thrust into her, hard, causing Amy to shriek in painful ecstasy. He continued pounding into her, his daughter arching her back as she moaned, her round, petite breasts bouncing pleasantly. She reached around her father’s back and clawed as hard as she could, her nails digging into his pale skin. He moaned loudly at the sensation, muttering her name as he did.

“Fatherrr…” she moaned in reply, feeling a physical anticipation within her, growing in intensity with each thrust. She gripped his back, coaxing him to thrust faster. He complied, each time sending a bittersweet jolt all through her body. She was on the verge of orgasm. She pulled herself up to him, her mouth at his neck. She sank her fangs into him, biting as hard as she could, reveling in the taste of his blood, the sweet nectar tasting better than any human she had ever had. Still he thrust, rocking her entire body with waves of rapture, each one numbing the pain a little more.

She came, her whole body quivering, her consciousness blurring as she felt the sublime physical sensation. She fell back and laid there for a moment, feeling her father still thrusting into her. Then she opened her eyes, not realizing they had closed. She pushed him away, forcing him to pull out. She rose to her shaky knees and kissed him hard, his blood still on her pouting lips, the taste of it on her tongue.

They broke their kiss and Amy, in one swift movement, grabbed her father and pulled him onto the table. He lay there, his legs hanging over the edge. Amy climbed atop him, straddling him with her pristine body. She gasped as he slipped back into her. There was no pain time, and she began rocking immediately. Raphael grabbed her hips to assist with her movements, and she in turn grabbed onto his wrists, pushing and pulling herself in a steady rhythm.

They moved in unison that way, slowly at first, but quickly gaining momentum. Already, Amy felt another heated orgasm building within her, coming much easier and more quickly than the first. She reached down and scratched him some more, this time down his front, her dragging nail marks leaving thin rivulets of blood.

She thrust as fast as her body would allow, her frenzied movements bringing her closer and closer. It was all more than she ever could have imagined. Every detailed sensation of his manhood within her was divine, luring her closer to the edge of bliss.

“Father!” She cried out again as she came once more, her single word trailing off into a long, lusty moan. Her rocking slowed, but never stopped, their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat, exerted more than they had been in quite some time.

Raphael lifted her off of him, getting off of the table and leaving Amy bent over on her hands and knees. She sighed as she felt Raphael’s erection slip into her again, wasting no time in building up a thrusting rhythm from behind her. He was close to his own orgasm. Amy coaxed him onward, eager for him to finish, knowing what was to come.

“Please, father,” she cooed. “Please give me more. I want all of it.”


He thrust harder in response, his breathing harsh and ragged. He finally choked out a reply.

“I am… I’m going to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. Amy pulled forward, his member leaving her. She turned around on the table and grabbed hold of his throbbing erection, propped up on her knees and one hand before him. She sucked on the tip, her vampiric teeth once more tickling him, her hand pumping the shaft.

She felt him tense up, and pulled her lips away, opening her mouth as he came. His seed spilled forth onto her tongue, some of it dripping over her lips and running down her chin and neck. She swallowed it all, using her finger to wipe up any that had left her mouth, licking it clean. Raphael’s member pulsed in her hand, hypersensitive from orgasm. In one smooth motion, she took all of it into her mouth, pressing in until the tip was down her throat, her nose pressed against his body. She felt him shudder, his voice a quivering gasp, helpless to her hold over him. Satisfied, she let him go.

She rose up, standing on her knees atop the table, eye level with her exhausted lover. She pulled him close, giving him an affectionate kiss.

“Thank you, father,” she said happily. “That was wonderful.” Raphael smiled tiredly in response.

“Happy birthday, Amy.”

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An idea I've had for a while. Tell me what you think. Read, Rate, Review, and Enjoy!