Bloodlines

Prelude:

This story is set in medieval times in a fantasy world that does not exist. Any resemblance to people real or imagined is purely coincidental. If any characters in this story actually did exist, and they were involved in the sexual scenes described, they would be eighteen years of age or older.

Now that the disclaimer is done with, I hope you enjoy the story. Please feel free to let your imagination go wild, as usual, this is a story to stimulate your imagination, as well as your pleasure zones.

Unlike most of my previous stories, this one has many chapters. I have already completed several and if the response is good enough to the first chapter, I will add several more shortly.

I normally don't do well with multi chapter stories, but this one has captured my imagination and the fingers have moved quickly across the keyboard. I have, of course been forced to retrace my steps several times as the story develops within my mind, but feel I am far enough in to at least release the first few words.

Enjoy, and let me know if you would like to see where the twisted tale leads!

*****

Chapter 1

Ian pulled the hood of his robe down close around his face, trying to block as much of the icy wind as possible. Behind him, Ayra's horse snorted, voicing its complaint of the freezing cold. Ayra herself remained silent, wrapped in her furs as she sat atop the animal, seemingly oblivious to the storm. Ian plowed forward, his feet crunching through the frozen snow, breaking a trail. He was nearly exhausted, and knew he had to find some sort of shelter soon.

Shielding his eyes with his fur covered hand, Ian tried peering into the distance, hoping to spot some sign of civilization. Hell, he would settle for a shallow cave at this point. He licked his lips, the salty taste of salty blood oozing from his cracked lips helping to keep him in the here and now. He jerked on the reigns, dragging the horse forward, the poor creature fighting every step. Ian's voice was little more than a raw whisper as he tried crying words of encouragement to the beast.

Glancing behind them, Ian could see their tracks, slowly filling as the icy snow continued blowing. His fingers had long since lost all feeling, and he knew frostbite would probably set in if it hadn't already. He trudged forward another hundred yards cursing at the gods. Ian knew if he didn't find shelter soon, they would be nothing but a meal for the wolves.

Slowly a shadowy shape appeared ahead, coalescing out of the blinding snow. It grew bigger with each step, its darkness more welcoming than intimidating. The wind seemed to lessen as Ian trudged forward, until he was standing before a massive stone wall. The wooden gate was burnt and half missing. Above it, the keystone still bore the coat of arms of Edan, a sword encircled by a thorny crown.

"It's one of the guard posts." Ian muttered, his words more a hoarse whisper.

Edan meant little to Ian, a fallen kingdom from the past filled with stories of better times. He had never experience such times, his had been a life of hard work and struggle growing up. Even now, fate had intervened, dealing his life a burdensome blow. Just coming into adulthood, he should have been seeing the world, experiencing what it had to offer, and of course, dipping his dick in a myriad of young women.

The death of his father seven months ago had put an end to that dream. Ian glanced back at the bundle of furs sitting astride the horse. His mother was a strong woman, yet as winter took hold, even she had to admit defeat. Pregnant, and ready to give birth in a month, she had finally accepted that their only choice was to seek shelter at her husband's brother's hold.

The mass of furs atop the horse shifted and Ayra peered out, her pale skin declaring she was in need of shelter as much as Ian was. She nodded, her lips forming into a slight smile as she struggled to climb down.

"Stay up there until we are inside." Ian croaked, his throat feeling like it was going to crack, just trying to speak.

She nodded and settled back into the saddle, as Ian pushed the charred remnants of the gate aside and led the horse through. The signs of fire continued as he coaxed the horse through the gate and into the inner courtyard. He was no warrior, but it didn't take one to know what had happened here. The main building was in shambles, half collapsed, the charred timbers sticking up like frozen claws grasping at the frigid wind.

Ian's hand went to the sword on his hip, hoping that they were long gone. He knew he was no warrior and was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt any attacker. Still, the feel of the hilt in his hand gave him comfort.

Ian waited, listening as best he could. The wind was howling, picking up speed and he could feel it sneaking through the layers of furs. After several seconds passed without any sign of movement he relaxed, his hand still resting on the sword but no longer gripping it so tightly. If there was anyone hiding out there, they were probably frozen anyway.

Ian scanned the courtyard, looking for some sort of shelter. The wind let up briefly, and he spotted a small stone building tucked in the corner alongside the main building. It looked intact, even the roof was undamaged, or at least appeared intact under a heavy blanket of snow.

The horse seemed to see it at the same time and actually moved forward without Ian having to tug and shout encouragement, though he doubt his shouts were little more than raspy croaks. Ian's hopes soared as he neared the building and saw the door was still intact. As he reached the door, Ian dropped the reigns, and pressed his hands against the stout wood. It creaked, and opened slowly, the latch hanging bent and twisted.

Ian glanced back at the horse and saw Ayra looking at him, her eyes speaking the same desperation he felt. He held up his hand briefly, and then pulled his sword, the screech of steel making his teeth rattle. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside, ready to do battle if necessary. The hut was a single room, its contents hidden in darkness. Ian croaked out a warning, half expecting to be set upon by demons of the night, but nothing stirred.

Ian heard footsteps behind him and spun around as Ayra stepped through the door, leading the horse. She stared wide eyed at him for a moment then they both burst into fits of laughter, the sound seeming to add a bit of warmth to the empty building.

Ayra stepped to the side, and fumbled with the packs, pulling out the small metal box. Inside were one of their most precious possessions, strike sticks; small wooden sticks with a compound on them that ignited easily. In moments she was holding up the lantern, its flickering light slowly growing until it filled the room.

"The must have been the smithy." Ian said, recognizing the huge anvil and the stone fire pit.

"They always kept a bin of coal inside." Ayra said, walking past him and peering beside the fire pit.

Even wrapped in furs, her condition was obvious, her belly swollen to the point he thought she might burst. She put the lantern on the anvil, and walked into the shadows, pausing only long enough to gesture for Ian to close the door. He nudged the horse aside and shoved the door closed, pinning it shut with the remnants of the latch.

"It wouldn't keep out intruders but it should hold against the wind." He thought, as he stacked a couple of packs against it just to make sure.

"Bust up that shelf to start the fire." Ayra said, her voice taking on that motherly tone Ian hated as she opened a bin and grabbed several chunks of coal. "Coal makes a fine fire but it needs heat to start."

Ian quickly smashed the shelf, piling the splinters into the fire pit as Ayra stepped back into the light carrying a small bucket of coal. It took two strike sticks to start the splinters, but at least they lit, and quickly the flames licked upward, adding to the glow in the room. Ian carefully added more pieces of wood until there was a respectable fire going.

"I'll unload the horse." Ian said, as Ayra knelt by the fire and started slowly adding chunks of coal to the fire.

Ian paused for a moment, looking at Ayra. She had untied her outer fur robe and it hung open. Kneeling as she was the fire cast flickering light across her face, and body. Her belly seemed to have swollen even more during the week they had been travelling, and Ian wondered if perhaps her estimate of when the baby would come was off a bit. Not only had her stomach swollen to extreme proportions, but her breasts had as well, pressing tight against her wool dress. He could clearly see her nipples, pressed hard against the fabric.

Ayra smiled up at him, and Ian quickly turned away, afraid she might notice where his gaze had been. She just nodded, as she gently worked the bellows, directing the flames at the pieces of coal. By the time Ian had unpacked the horse, the fire was blazing, and he could feel the room beginning to warm. Ian removed his outer robe and hung it on the pins where the shelf had been before unrolling the furs and arranging them into a makeshift bed near the fire pit.

"Are you hungry?" Ian asked, pulling the saddle bag open and removing some dried meat.

Ayra just shook her head and added more coals. The fire was at a full blaze now, the heat a welcome change after three days sleeping in a makeshift tent. Ian took a bite of the meat, then grabbed the skin and drank a swallow of water.

Ayra, apparently satisfied that the fire was stable, walked over to where Ian's robe hung and removed her outer robe, hanging it as well.

"You did well, Ian." She said, walking slowly to where he sat and dropping down beside him.

With the outer robe gone, her condition was even more evident, her swollen belly stretching her wool dress tight against her, her belly button clearly visible, protruding against the fabric. Her tits, swollen in anticipation of the child hung heavy against her swollen stomach, small wet spots visible where the nipples pressed against the fabric.

Ian blushed as she leaned past him and grabbed a piece of bread, her tit rubbing his leg as she did. She was his mother, yet his thoughts went someplace a son's thoughts should not go.

"Hopefully the storm will blow over during the night." Ian said, standing up and walking over to the horse.

He needed a distraction, anything to keep his mind occupied. He could feel his cock pressing hard against his pants and he closed his eyes, trying to will it to behave. He grabbed some feed and the feedbag, shaking his head as he saw how little was left. If they didn't start making better progress, the supplies would run out before they got to his uncle's hold.

"Your clothes are damp, they will need to dry." Ayra said, as she climbed onto the makeshift bed.

"I know. I was just waiting until..." Ian said, feeling uncomfortable.

She let out a soft chuckle, and dropped back into the furs.

"Well, you're not getting under the furs in wet clothes." She said, before taking a bite of her bread.

"Yours are nearly as wet." Ian replied, looking at her.

"And they are coming off as soon as I get under the furs." She said, placing her food on a small stone and pulling the furs aside.

She slid under the furs, and Ian could see them moving. Moments later she held out her woolen dress.

"Hang it near the fire and get undressed." She said. "We need to get some sleep."

It was like her telling him to do his chores when he was a child. Ian's anger flared for a moment but he held his tongue. Instead he stood up and walked over to the fire pit. Once he had hung her dress up, Ian glanced back at her. She was completely under the furs, even her head. He smiled gratefully as he added a dozen chunks of coal and a few pieces of the shelves to the fire. Then he quickly disrobed then rushed over and slid beneath the furs.

"So, do you know where we are?" Ayra said, once Ian was under the furs.

"This is one of the old outposts, perhaps Forks Ridge." Ian said, guessing.

The truth was he had no idea. He had been guessing where they were for the past two days. He was just grateful they had found shelter, and with it, hopefully a travelled road.

"Fork's Ridge was bigger. This is more like a travelers post; we're probably on the old Royal Highway east of Fork's Ridge." She replied, rolling onto her back. "Kessen's or maybe Leeann's if I had to guess."

She suddenly let out a gasp, and stiffened.

"Are you alright Ayra?" Ian said, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"I...I'm fine. And you should call me mother." She replied, the tension in her voice making it obvious that she wasn't.

"Is it the...?" Ian began, afraid actually mentioning the child in her womb might make it worse.

"She's just restless. The warmth of the furs after feeling so cold all day is all." She said, grasping his hand and placing it on her stomach.

Ian could feel the faint pressure as the child within moved about. He let his hand rest there for several moments while they lay in silence. Gradually the movement ceased, and Ayra seemed to relax.

"I think she trusts you." Ayra whispered, lifting her hand off his and turning to face him. "And I trust you as well."

"Do you really believe Brayden will take us in?" Ian said, pulling his hand back suddenly when he felt her breast brush against it.

"He will, Ian. He will honor your father's memory; he will honor the family blood. Besides, he has no sons of his own. He will welcome a strong back to help with the work. And I, well I have ways of making myself of use."

"And the child? What about her, as you seem so sure it is a girl." Ian said, still unsure of her proclamation that the child she carried was a girl.

"She is your father's blood as well, and she will find a place. I'm not saying it will be easy, but it is the only choice we have."

Ian knew she was right, but he didn't like it. He vaguely remembered his uncle, though he wasn't sure if it was his memories, or memories from the stories his father had told him. Either way, he was certain that his uncle was not a kind man. Ian wasn't convinced he would be pleased to see them.

"We should get some sleep." Ayra said, her hand reaching up to brush Ian's cheek before she rolled onto her side, her back to him.

For Ian, sleep was slow to come, and when it finally did, it was filled with images of Ayra, lying naked, the skin of her swollen belly moving in ripples as his little sister squirmed inside her. She was shouting at him as he stood at her feet, staring at her womanhood, his swollen cock gripped firmly in his hand.

Ian woke in the middle of the night, his body covered in sweat. He heard rustling sounds and peered from under the furs. Ayra was standing at the fire, gently stirring the coals as she coaxed the fire back to life. Her swollen breasts swayed back and forth clearly outlined in the glow of the coals as she pushed the small bellows, breathing life into the fire. As the flames burst forth, her outline became more visible, and he could see the skin of her stomach moving. Once again Ian had to wonder if she was right about having another month before the baby would come.

The sight stirred unbidden thoughts in him, forbidden desires he struggled to quench. Ian closed his eyes, slipping deeper under the furs, hoping to block out the images, secretly wanting to see more. A few minutes later, he heard soft footsteps, and then felt the furs shift as Ayra slid back in beside him.

"We'll be alright Ian." She whispered.

Ian felt her hand slip around his waist then felt her body press against his back, the warmth of her flesh soaking into him. He could feel her breasts, the nipples hot, seeming to burn holes into his back. Her swollen belly pressed into his lower back, warming him. Every inch of his body became oversensitive, the spots she touched shivered and burned, the spots she didn't shuddered in anticipation of her possible touch.

He tried to control his breathing, hoping she would think him still asleep. Every inch of his body was tingling, and where her fingers rested against his stomach, he felt on fire. His cock was twitching, slowly swelling as unbidden thoughts raced through his head. He imagined her hand slowly moving downward to grasp his manhood; her voice was shaky as she soothed him, reassuring him that she wanted this as bad as he did.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to chase away the images. It did no good as memories from the past crept into his mind. Memories of sneaking up to the edge of the loft late at night to watch as she and his father made love. She would sit astride him, her naked body glowing in the soft light from the fire as she rode him, her tits swaying from side to side, full and begging for attention. They were larger now, getting ready for the child within her yet even then they were big. Ian couldn't help but wondered what it would look like, what it would feel like to have her riding him like that.

Ian let out a soft moan, shifting slightly, hoping her hand would slide downward. Just to have her touch his swollen manhood, just for a moment would be enough. Suddenly she jerked away, rolling away from him. Ian cursed at himself for being so foolish. Still, in the shadowy darkness, images quickly returned, and he knew sleep would elude him for a while.

Ian remained still for a while, listening to her breathing. He hoped she would turn back to him, press her body back against his, and melt into him again. He wondered if she had any of the same desires that burned within him. He knew the idea was ridiculous, but he wondered anyway.

It seemed like hours passed. Ian looked over at the fire, still burning, the flames flickering, casting moving shadows across the walls. Seeing her standing beside the fire had mesmerized him. He slid from under the furs and stood up, his cock straining poking straight out, an obscene spectacle that he secretly hoped she would see.

Ian walked over to the fire, adding more coals and stirring it, sending the flames licking upward as he positioned himself so she would see him in profile. It was ridiculous, and he knew it, yet he stood there imagining she was watching him, hoping that the sight of his excitement would overwhelm her. No sound came, her breathing remained steady. After several minutes Ian accepted the fact that she was asleep and walked back over to the furs. Climbing back under the furs, he resigned himself to a sleepless night. His body however, had other ideas and he slowly drifted off into a dream filled sleep.

Chapter 2

Ricah did her best to hide her distaste as her husband gripped his scrawny cock and waved it at her as if the mere sight of it would have her begging. In her youth, that would have worked, not because she had ever been physically attracted to him, but because she wanted nothing more than to have a child, his child. Not to please him, but to secure her future.

But years of trying had produced nothing. Not a single pregnancy. She had considered gaining the trust of one of the guards and getting with child that way. Unfortunately, most of the guards were, if nothing else, loyal to Brayden. Not that she doubted she could find a willing guard, she just doubted finding one that wouldn't talk.

She swirled the tankard, watching as the dark liquid slowly melded with the wine. Just the sight of it slowly disappearing made her smile. She turned and walked slowly toward he husband, carefully choosing her words.

"I apologize milord." She said, walking over and placing her hand on his shoulder. "It is that time, and I fear..."

She forced the smile from her lips, knowing his revulsion of female bodily functions. He snarled and pushed her hand away.

"Then send in one of the serving girls. I have no interest in your problems." He growled, almost cowering from her in revulsion.