Chapter 1: Taboo Dance

Note: Thanks to b0b for beta reading this!

Sven Falk – Despeir Foothills, Kivoneth Princedom, The Strifelands of Zeutch

I crawled forward on my belly, the firelight reaching up from the depression below, a bright glow at odds with its dark creators: Shizhuthian slavers. They served the foul nagas of the fractured lands across the Despeir Mountains to the east. My heart thudded in my chest, hands eager for tonight’s business. Even in the dark night, I could feel the knife-like mountains looming over us; the barrier between civilization and the tyranny of the foul nagas.

My sister crept up against me, a year younger, her lithe, pink robes dull in the darkness. A heat rose in me, her breasts pressing against the thin fabric, swaying with her every movement. Flickers of campfire highlighted the edges of her body, outlining her curves. A sweet scent filled the air. Her eyes reflected back at me, big and questioning.

“It’s them,” I whispered, turning my attention down to the camp, ignoring the rise of my cock. She was my sister. Not a doxy slattern dancing in a tavern.

Slovenly disorder ruled the camp. To the north, a large tent was pitched, the cloth dark even with the light glowing from its interior. On the south side were the wagons of slaves, their Zeutchian prisoners still inside, huddled in the mass. A forest of limbs, so dirty they appeared to be gray or brown, stuck through the bars. Most were women, pleasure slaves for humans favored by their naga rules. The rest were to be worked to death in the iron mines of Hizzithya. Three soldiers lounged by the fire, laughing as they ate the stew. Two more were on the edges, wearing their black armor, swarthy faces alert.

“Contact her,” my sister, Kora, said, her voice fair and refined, with a melodic music that came from her training as a priestess of Rithi, Goddess of Art.

My sister shouldn’t be skulking through the foothills of the Despeir Mountains attacking raiders. Neither of us should. We should be back in Az, her serving in the temple, acting as a muse to artists from around the world who attended the University. While I should be lounging in taverns, carousing with my friends, drinking on my parents’ largess, whoring with the companionable women, and enjoying the delights of Ava.

Damn that bastard for stealing it all away! I could still see the fires burning, consuming our home, our parents and Katriana still inside.

I thrust my hand into my pouch, seizing the alabaster statue. I pulled it out, setting it on my palm and holding it before my face. It stood the length of my hand from wrist to fingertip, carved in the shape of a young woman, her body slender and fair, the detail so exquisite it captured the nipples topping her small breasts and the down of her pubic hair between her thighs.

My heart lurched. How long had it been? Months? Nearly a year.

“Ava,” I whispered, my thick finger sliding down the cold stone statue from her neck, between her breasts, and down to her pussy. “Ava, it’s Sven.”

Life breathed into the statue. Tiny eyes blinked, lips smiling. Hips undulated, grinding a cold heat against my thighs. “Sven,” the statue spoke in the light and airy voice of the princess. “Did you find them?”

“They raided the village just like you claimed,” I answered, keeping my finger rubbing her pussy, wondering if Ava felt it in distant Echur. “How did you know?”

The statue’s face twisted. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Your father?” Anger burned in my voice.

My sister gave the statue a sharp look, saying, “Your father is involved with these slavers, Ava?”

“Maybe.” Ava’s statue trembled. I pictured the red-gold hair of the princess quivering about her face as she sat in her bed, controlling the statue across the intervening miles. “I learned about it from him. I fear ... I fear his agents want those slaves.”

“Then he’s going to be sorely disappointed,” I grinned, my hand slipping down to grasp my dagger’s hilt. “We’ll free them.”

“Just you and Kora?” Ava gasped. “Against a Shizhuthian raiding party?”

“Trust me.” I winked at the little statue. “Don’t I always get away? How many times did I steal into your bower beneath your father’s nose?”

My sister stared hard at me, disapproval on her lips.

“Many times,” Ava sighed, a fond look spilling across the statue’s face. “But be careful, Sven. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I told the statue, bringing my finger to her mouth, pressing on the hard, yet somehow soft lips.

Ava kissed my finger. Then the statue went still, the magic animating it gone.

“Do you really love her, brother?” Kora asked, her voice tight.

“I love all the women I bed, sister dear.” I scooped up the statue and, with care, wrapped her up in oilcloth and slipped her into my belt pouch. “They all hold a place in my heart.”

“Even that Thlinian hussy you fucked in Cheyvn last week. The one you bent over the table and buggered while drunk.”

“I loved every moment being in her ass. And she certainly loved my cock, sister dear.” I grinned at Kora again, my hands so sweaty. Gods, she was beautiful, golden-blonde hair glinting in the enemy firelight, falling in two braids down her back.

“You are as disgusting as Las,” she said. “Ava deserves better.”

I fought down the heartache. It has been a year since I saw the princess in the flesh. Since the fire. Anger clenched my jaw. “Let’s liberate the slaves and ruin her father’s evening.”

“That, brother mine, is something I would relish.” Kora shivered. “I’ll provide the distraction?”

“You do it so well,” I said, slithering back from the edge of the cliff and out of sight of the sentries.

My sister disrobed with such casual ease, exposing her body to me. Even in the darkness, with only a half-moon shining down on us, I groaned at the sight of her round breasts with upswept nipples. They stood hard before her as she slid her hands down her tattooed flesh, marking her as a Radiant of Rithi, a full priestess. It was too dark to make them out, but ink adorning her flesh, showing her skill and talents.

Her body moved with such grace, shifting and dancing as she evoked beauty to draw upon her goddess’s magic. Her hands slid down her flat stomach to her groin, dipping across shaved flesh and rubbing on that quivering treasure.

How many women had I bed with the same golden-blonde hair? Eyes closed, pumping inside them, imagining they were my younger sister.

Too many.

It was torture watching her perform her magic. She let out a wanton sigh, her fingers sliding through the folds of her pussy and then penetrating her hot depths. I envied every man she took as a lover, as infrequent as that was these days. My leather pants were so tight. I rubbed sweaty palms on my thighs, watching her dance.

Burning with incestuous passion for her.

I could hear her fingers sliding in and out of her flesh, that wet plunge into hot flesh. My dick twitched with each one. My sister’s breasts jiggled as her head threw back, her twin braids swaying behind her. She turned as she masturbated, her curving ass facing me, painted by pale moonlight, her crack an inviting shadow.

When I buggered that Thlinian slattern, I felt my sister’s eyes on me. I wanted her to see my cock, to see my prowess, to hear how the slut moaned and gasped, her bowels clenching on my dick. I wanted my sister to know the passion I could give her.

If I wasn’t her brother.

Pater’s cock, she was radiant.

Moonlight shimmered around her body as she swayed and pumped her fingers. Sparkles, tinged with auroric rainbows, glinted across her pale skin as she gathered more and more of her Goddess’s magic, swirling the light around her as her fingers plunged faster and faster into her flesh.

“Oh, Gods,” she whimpered, her voice so throaty. Her eyes looked at me over a shoulder, burning with her pleasure. “You shouldn’t watch me.”

“You’re so beautiful,” I groaned, wanting to jerk my own cock.

Her hips swayed, her ass wiggling at me as she plunged fingers into her pussy. She must be so hot, her flesh boiling around those lucky digits. Her moans grew louder and louder. Her body quivered, the light swirling about her body, silvery, woven with shadows.

And then her back arched. Her ass clenched. Rivulets of her cream ran down her thighs, squirting from her pussy as her orgasm crashed through her. My heart beat so fast. My body on fire. I wanted to seize her, to fuck her. Let vengeance be damned and the slaves suffer while I enjoyed my sister.

I beat down such selfishness. She’d hate me if I tried. Those slaves needed freedom. Deserved it.

And Prince Meinard had to pay.

“Rithi, bless my sexual juices and let them paint with your concealing radiance,” she moaned. The lights and shadows swirling about her body surged down her back and sides, crossing her curving ass, and diving into her cumming pussy. Her juices glowed as they dripped from her pussy and ran down her thighs.