Bloodline Eternal
Copyright© 2025 by Victoria Kane
Chapter 1: Arrival & Seduction
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1: Arrival & Seduction - Victoria discovers her father and grandfathers’ secret obsession with breeding her. She turns their desire into a ruthless competition.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Father Daughter Grand Parent FemaleDom Group Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Voyeurism AI Generated
Summer 2000 – Lang Villa, Tuscany
The terrace overlooked rolling vineyards drenched in thick, molten-gold late-afternoon light. The air was dense, almost syrupy, saturated with the cloying sweetness of ripening grapes and the heady, narcotic perfume of jasmine that clung to the stone balustrade like a lover’s sweat. A single table had been set for three: chilled Brunello di Montalcino breathing in a heavy crystal decanter, its deep crimson catching the light like fresh blood. Plates of prosciutto so thin it trembled at the slightest breath, fresh figs split open and glistening with sticky amber nectar, burrata weeping thick, creamy white onto white porcelain. The scent of it all rose warm and intimate, mingling with the faint salt of Elena’s own skin in the humid heat.
Elena Kane, twenty-four, beautiful, restless, sat in a thin white sundress that clung to her body like a second skin. The fabric had turned translucent from the day’s humidity. Every slow breath lifted it against her breasts, outlining the stiffening peaks of nipples darkened by the sun. A faint sheen of perspiration traced the hollow of her throat, slid between her breasts, and pooled at the small of her back where the dress stuck to her. She had married Richard two years earlier, still very much the young bride trying to find her place in the powerful Kane family. Lately Richard was always away on business. This “rest cure” in Tuscany had been Edward’s idea: time with family, time to relax, time to let the villa’s peace work its magic on her.
She had not expected both men to stay the entire summer.
Edward Kane, forty-six, silver just touching his temples, still broad-shouldered and commanding, poured the wine with measured grace. The liquid glugged thickly into the glass, dark and viscous, the scent of black cherry and leather rising sharp and intoxicating. His ice-blue eyes lingered on her a fraction longer than propriety allowed, tracing the damp line where the dress met her throat, then lower, following the slow rise and fall of her chest, the faint tremor of her breath.
She’s ripe, Edward thought, the wine loosening the thought he had buried for months. Twenty-four and already bored with my son. I built this empire for a heir worthy of it, and here she sits, skin flushed, waiting to be claimed.
Victor Lang, forty-four, her own father, dark-haired and olive-skinned, elegant in linen, sat opposite, watching her with the soft intensity he had always shown. Since she was a girl he had called her “la mia principessa,” but lately the endearment carried a different weight: lower, rougher, like velvet dragged across stone.
My daughter, Victor thought, the wine burning away the last pretense. I gave her life once. Tonight I’ll give her something more.
Conversation began innocently enough: the vintage, the harvest, Richard’s latest deal. But the wine flowed, warm and heavy on the tongue, coating her throat like velvet fire. The sun sank lower, turning the light amber, then crimson. The touches began.
Edward’s hand brushed hers as he passed the figs: lingering, deliberate, the pad of his thumb tracing the inside of her wrist where her pulse beat visibly, quickening under his touch, sending sparks up her arm.
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