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      "writing": "[center]The Incestuous Vices of Sasha Tatlavica[/center]\n\n[center]Bruno Hirschkoff[/center]\n[center]© February 2025[/center]\n\n[i]This is a work of erotic fiction for discerning adults only.[/i]\n\n[i]All characters and settings are fictional. The world of Asantrea and all of its concepts, locations, characters and associated artwork, literature, and other material is the sole creation of the Author and remains their intellectual property. [/i]\n\n[i]This work is not for commercial publication or distribution without the Author’s written consent.[/i]\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n[center]Chapter 3[/center]\n[center]The [i]Dosvakny’a[/i]\n\n1782 Arahan Domini\nArhanifell, Olkvarskali Oblast, Ithenor[/center]\n\n[center] *[/center]\n\nSasha had been home from the [i]Vospitanye [/i]for a little over a month. After the incident with his father, Sasha had become a little more discreet in his hedonistic wallowing. Finding out about [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]had been an unexpected boon to him, and was serving as an outlet for many of the young marten’s repressed thoughts and feelings. He no longer felt alone, a solitary writer in a society that relegated such minds to the periphery of the collective. [i]Tails of Whimsy, [/i]it turned out, was the name given to the artists’ collective itself, not a location. Meetings moved around, from bar to bar, tavern to tavern, each one brought to life by the influx of creative minds with their liberated social inhibitions and pursuit of delights of mind, body and culture. Sasha at first remained in the shadow of Ruslan and Svetla, but within a few weeks of attending the regular meetings, he’d become an accepted part of the collective. \n\nThey opened his eyes in ways he never thought possible. Sasha had no idea that so much music, laughter, poetry, stagecraft or art could exist in a city like Arhanifell. He simply didn’t know what he didn’t know, and was enchanted by [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]to the point of wanting it never to end.\n\nMeanwhile, at home, Ilyas began to ask more and more often of Sasha whether he had found a suitable [i]Dosvakny. [/i]He even introduced his son to Gotbedin, a colleague of Reyhani’s from the university’s academic board. He had a daughter who would soon graduate the [i]Vospitanye, [/i]he said, and would need to find a [i]Dosvakny. [/i]His father spoke highly of Sasha’s ambitions to go into academia, of his great intellect and kindness. Sasha was deeply intimidated by Gotbedin. He was a portly and severe fellow, who seemed to use his rotundity to invade one’s personal space and exhaled noisily through his nose where others might have politely laughed. But what bothered Sasha the most was the way Ilyas flattered him. It was so unlike his father, and the things he said to Gotbedin about Sasha were patently false, in some cases. He was not, as his father suggested, naturally skilled in the natural sciences, nor possessed of any great passion for the discipline of the scientific method. \n\nAfter Gotbedin had left their home, Sasha expressed as much to Ilyas. \n\n“I know, Sasha… but you need to find someone. Gotbedin is a curmudgeonly sod, but he’s extremely well connected and [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with someone close to him will open many doors for you, both personally and professionally,” Ilyas reasoned. \n\n“But you know as well as I do that I am useless with most science,” Sasha protested. “He’ll find out quickly that I’m not who you say I am.”\n\nIlyas did not have a good answer for that; Sasha could tell he was holding back from telling Sasha he should just study harder, or spend less time immersed in his silly fantasies of being a writer to devote more time to learning the sciences he claimed not to love. But to his credit, he did not say as much, and seemed genuinely to be trying to help Sasha find his place. \n\nStill, Ilyas’ actions perturbed Sasha, and he rankled at the thought that he would have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t just to satisfy the social norms of his society. Meeting Ruslan and Svetla and becoming involved in the city’s underground creative scene seemed to have highlighted that disconnect, in Sasha’s mind.\n\nSasha briefly considered asking if Ruslan or Svetla would agree to [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with him, and for a short time he thought it would be a good option. But the more he thought about it, the less suitable they seemed. Besides, he reasoned, neither Ruslan nor Svetla were interested in the stuffy and staid institutions of respectable Olkvar society, and their ‘unclean’ relationship told him straight away that they would not respect the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]either. Then there was the thought of having to introduce them to his family. They were actors. In the eyes of most Olkvars, they were dreamers, layabouts and ne’er-do-wells. And particularly for the Tatlavicas with their deep connections to the city’s academic elite, such a pairing would not be favourably regarded. And the last thing Sasha wanted was for his [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]to do more damage than if he remained single and—supposedly—chaste.\n\nSvarina still stood in Sasha’s mind as his preferred partner. It would be perfect, he thought—he would not have to performatively appease another family by upholding any expectation of pursuing a career in science, and if she agreed… Sasha’s heart hammered in his chest at the mere thought that she might. For her to agree to be with him in that context… it would imply, to him, that she felt the same about him as he did for her. \n\nAll he needed to do was find an opportunity to bring it up in conversation, and to ask her. But even for an author, he was struggling to find the words.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nIt was late evening. After a family meal to which Ma∂ina had invited her [i]Dosvakny, [/i]Reyhani and Ilyas retired to bed early. Ma∂ina and her partner remained for another hour before they too departed, leaving Svarina and Sasha alone together. They sat in front of the fire in the mezzanine lounge, with their backs to the ornate balustrade that ran around the inner edge of the space. The golden flicker of the fire was the only light, and cast long shadows around the space which danced along the bookshelves behind two wing-back leather armchairs, and blanketed the entrance foyer and staircase below in darkness. \n\n“It has been some time since we spoke alone,” Svarina said. “How are you settling in, little brother? The first month after leaving the [i]Vospitanye [/i]was… tumultuous, for me.”\n\nSasha gave her a thin smile and gathered his evening gown about himself. “Father speaks endlessly of the [i]Dosvakny’a[/i],” he said, slouching into his armchair opposite Svarina.\n\nIlyas, despite his early reassurances, was heaping pressure on Sasha to take the next step towards adulthood. Svarina gave her brother a sultry smile and slouched down to mirror his position. It was an immodest position for a woman, and Sasha felt his ears burning. All of his fantasies of her clamoured in his mind, and he felt as if she could read him like a book. The thought of asking her to be his [i]Dosvakny[/i] was on the tip of his tongue. \n\n“Yes, he is anxious for you to pair up with someone with connections, like Ma∂ina did. He only wants the best for you, you know. He sees how happy Ma∂ina is, and remembers how miserable Elvira was when she was forced to break with her [i]Dosvakny [/i]to marry a man. Elvira was always drawn to other women, you know.”\n\n“How would you know?” Sasha jibed. “You and I both were at Orya Yulinka for the whole time that was happening!”\n\n“Mother tells me things, you know. Women talk differently among themselves than they do when men are around. I am sure men are the same way.”\n\n“Men talk boorishly of the size of their rods,” Sasha said flatly. “And which women… or men… they wish to bury them into. At least, that was the topic of conversation in the final year at the [i]Vospitanye.[/i]”\n\nSvarina made a chittering noise of disgust. “Oh, the utter [i]cretins,[/i]” she said. \n\nSasha nodded affirmation. “Yes… it always felt… uncomfortable, to be around them for those conversations. As if those they coveted were little more than a conquest. They do not see the whole person, and for that they miss out on so much of the rapture of exploration, of mutual enjoyment of the physical.”\n\n“You’re a curious man, Sasha Tatlavica. You’re not like any other man I have ever known. As you say, most are boorish louts beneath the veneer of social propriety, but you are… softer than they are, gentler. Fascinated with people and their proclivities. Like a poet.”\n\nShe knew the word would get a reaction from him, and she was right. Sasha straightened in his chair and subtly raised his chin. \n\n“I am… glad that I come across as such, to you, dear sister,” he said. \n\n“Thought you’d appreciate that,” she smirked. “I should like to hear about that writers’ group you attend, sometime. I cannot imagine it being even faintly interesting, but you seem to have become fascinated by it.”\n\nSasha squirmed slightly in his armchair. \n\n“It is… so incredibly colourful, Svarina. Moreso than I feel I can express. There are more than just authors of novels; there are poets, musicians, actors, painters, sculptors, philosophers, performers of all kinds… it is a little like the colour and vivacity of a circus, the sort of place where the cast-offs of any number of cities and towns collect and share their ideas. It makes everything else seem dull and grey, by comparison.”\n\n“Do they…” Svarina began, and then paused. \n\n“What?”\n\n“Is there a lot of sexual congress?”\n\nSasha spluttered. \n\n“What? Is it such a terrible thing to ask?” Svarina said indignantly. “You’ve shown me some of the things you write, it [i]drips [/i]with sex, Sasha. I only wonder if that comes from your circus of actors and poets, since they so clearly exist outside of our social hierarchy.”\n\n“I… suppose there must be some amount of it happening, although I’ve not paid it all that much attention,” Sasha said carefully. “My writing is far from the most erotic I’ve seen.”\n\n“You are a shockingly bad liar, Sasha Tatlavica,” Svarina laughed. “I should wonder that it is like an orgy of desire, that you attend every week to gain inspiration and satiate your curiosities.”\n\nShe was gazing at him, her eyes glinting in the firelight and her hands steepled in front of her muzzle, slouched immodestly in her armchair with the soft cloth of her evening gown laid over the subtle curves of her body like the ephemeral garments the ancients carved from marble to appear softer than silk. He swallowed thickly.\n\nThere was a moment of silence. He would never get a better chance, he fancied. Sasha took a deep breath and held it, then exhaled. Then another. Slowly, the words coalesced in his mind, and he forced his voice to be calm and level; “Svarina, I never asked and you’ve never said… are you [i]Dosvakny’y[/i] with anyone?”\n\nShe gave him another of those little half-smiles she always gave him. The type of smile that hinted that she could read his mind, and see his most depraved thoughts writ large across his face.\n\n“Yes, little brother, I am taken. A little after the end of my first month home, my contract began. I… I am sorry, I can tell this was not what you wanted to hear. You were going to ask me, weren’t you?”\n\nSasha’s heart sank like a stone. Svarina was taken. She was off limits to him. The realisation did not hit him like a hammer blow, but welled up from within him like the destructive fire of a volcano, burning all it passed with languid and terrible slowness. He swallowed thickly and stared into the fire. Then something occurred to him.\n\n“With whom?” he asked. “I have seen you leave the house during the day, but you are always back in the evenings. Do you only visit them during the day? And never have them over?”\n\n“Oh, he lives here.”\n\nSasha’s brain took a solid ten seconds to process the meaning of his sister’s off-handed comment. He felt as if he was clinging to a Sarg galleon in a storm. \n\n“Wait. You… you are [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with [i]Father?!”[/i]\n\n“Yes! Did he not mention? He was Singri∂’s, as well.”\n\n“N-no, he did not mention!”\n\nSasha was shocked. Svarina was [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with their father. Images pulsed and throbbed through his mind of what that meant, in practice, when they were alone together. He struggled to imagine his stoic father being comfortable teaching anyone about the sorts of things a [i]Dosvakny [/i]should, let alone his own daughter… not to mention [i]two [/i]of his daughters.\n\n“Are you alright there, little brother?” Svarina smirked. “You seem… piqued.”\n\nSasha hurriedly gathered the folds of his gown into his lap. Svarina noticed, and fixed him with a look that melted the ice in his heart as easily as the volcano sweeps away a field of grain.\n\n“I… my apologies, that was… quite a shock. He is very discreet about it, I have never heard… I mean… seen… or… thought…” Sasha stumbled over his words. \n\nSvarina raised a hand and curled her fingers to observe her manicured claws with a sort of aloof smugness. \n\n“What’s… what’s it like?” Sasha managed after a moment of awkward silence. \n\n“What, being [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with one’s own father?”\n\nSasha nodded. \n\n“You little pervert,” Svarina chuckled. “It’s… Well, it’s alright, I suppose. We talk a lot. It’s very open. He tells me stories of when he was our age, exploring and discovering things with his [i]Dosvakny. [/i]She was his age, and they truly loved one another, as he said on your first night here.”\n\n“Do you… uhm…” Sasha began. [i]Fuck? [/i]his mind concluded. \n\nSvarina lifted her gaze to stare at him. He once again felt that she was reading his thoughts. He throbbed in his clothing. But instead of chastising him or calling him a pervert, she gave a wistful sigh.\n\n“No. He never… he’s got a strong moral compass, or at least has repressed that part of himself that deep down wants to,” she sighed. “He can speak very openly in some moments, but in others he’s as uptight as a priest. I’ve learned that those are the moments when he’s fighting something back. He… is very good at ignoring certain things. Treating them with utter detachment and nonchalance, like he’s discussing the weather or advising me on how to calculate some physical constant or other, not…” \n\n“Not…?” Sasha prompted. \n\nSvarina stared into the fire for a long moment and then chittered in frustration, squeezing her thighs together tightly. “Not… instructing me on how to give pleasure to a man with my mouth with his fingers standing in for… for… or how to trim the fur… down there… so that I look younger… apparently men like that. I’ll never quite understand it. Surely men want a [i]woman, [/i]not a girl, yes? But no, father says, the absence of the adult fur there allows… ugh. I sometimes wish he would be less uptight and stuck to his moral virtues, and just [i]fuck me,” [/i]she said breathily. “Show me what it is to be taken by a man. He… he ignores the signs I give him, no matter how… ahh… frank I am, or how forward. I am often so turned on it [i]aches.”[/i]\n\nSasha’s breath was frozen in his throat, even as the furnace of Bezar himself roared in his loins. Svarina was still gazing into the flickering fire, not at him, as if somehow the flames would be her confidant, her shield and keep her secret. Sasha, driven by his surging arousal, and perhaps a little immaturely, allowed the folds of his gown to fall to his hips once again, such that if she were to look over she would see the straining ridge of his erection under his clothes. He stared at her hungrily. He saw her thighs tense and release rhythmically a couple of times, and her lips parted just a touch. Her nipples were erect within her gown, and he could see the little peaks they cast in the cloth by the flickering firelight. Sasha ached to taste her breath, to feel the warm softness of her lips pressed to his, and the hunger in her touch as she pushed her hand down the front of his…\n\n“I’m sorry, Sasha, that was… a lot… I should not have shared that mu… Are you quite alright there, Sasha?”\n\nShe was staring at him suddenly, not into the fire. Sasha froze. He was breathing rapidly, and calmed himself with some effort. She was not staring at his face. Her tongue flicked momentarily past her upper lip, and she pressed her hand into her groin for a brief moment, before standing. \n\n“I should… retire, before my resolve not to hike my skirt and sit on that dissipates entirely. Put it away, Sasha.”\n\nSasha covered his tented pants with his gown again. Svarina stepped toward him and leaned in to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. With her, she brought a waft of a scent so intimate, so warm and enticing that Sasha immediately knew precisely what it was… although it was a thing he had never smelt before. His cock burned with desire in his pants, throbbing and drooling into the cloth, and he pressed his hand onto it firmly, breathing deeply of the scent of his sister’s arousal.\n\n“Good boy,” she purred, and then chuckled against his ear, lingering there. Her hand clenched and unclenched, and she transferred her gaze into his lap again. Then she plucked his hand away from it, and his gown fell open again. She exhaled shakily. “Must be hard to ignore that when it gets like that. Father’s is similarly sized… seems you take after him.”\n\nThen she kissed the corner of his mouth delicately, straightened, stretched luxuriantly, turned her back and slunk off up the stairs. He stayed there in a state of shock and painfully intense arousal, holding her scent in his lungs until he saw stars in the back of his eyes and was forced to take a fresh breath.\n\nSvarina knew [i]exactly [/i]what she’d been doing to him, by revealing such an intimacy, Sasha fancied. Their shared moment of arousal smouldered in Sasha’s mind for the remainder of the evening, while he brought himself to the burning, teetering edge of climax again and again in the privacy of his room, imagining her doing just the same… yet it was not that thought specifically that finally sent Sasha into convulsions of sticky ecstasy against his pillow. It was imagining Svarina touching herself, boldly and openly, in the presence of their stoic father. An image that was so intense that he completely abandoned any notion that spilling his seed alone was forbidden, and simply allowed it to happen.\n\nHe knew for Arahan’s truth that if she were to be so open, so bold, around him, he would be powerless to resist her temptations, [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]or no. As he drifted into sleep, he discovered that the spark of hope he held for a closer bond with his sister had not been entirely extinguished by knowing that she was taken by their father.\n\nAnd suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to his brain, Sasha knew what he had to do.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n“Sasha!” Ilyas greeted his son with a hug and a kiss to his forehead. \n\n“Good morning,” Sasha mumbled. \n\n“Did you sleep well?” Reyhani said, bustling him into the kitchen and furnishing him with a steaming bowl of porridge.\n\nSasha nodded and returned his mother’s hug, holding the porridge up to save it spilling into her hair.\n\n“Have you had any further thoughts about the offer from Gotbedin?” Ilyas prompted. “I and your mother are going to see him today and should like to convey your answer to him.”\n\nReyhani took the cue to leave the two men alone for that discussion, and made her way upstairs with a bowl of porridge for Svarina. \n\n“I can tell from your silence that you are reluctant… I can always find some others to introduce you to, if you do not feel that being close to Gotbedin would benefit…”\n\n“N-no,” Sasha said.\n\nIlyas stopped talking. \n\n“I… don’t know if I can, father, I…”\n\n“But Sasha, you must! Why, if you do not take a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]there are many who will assume, with no evidence whatsoever, that you are living uncleanly and sullying yourself in the fleshpots! And we all know about your writers’ group, already people are beginning to wonder about you…”\n\nSasha felt an upwelling of anger. How dare people he did not so much as know the names of whisper about his private life? What business was it of theirs?\n\n“It is not the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]itself that disturbs me, father! Rather that it seems to be all about elevating one’s status or silencing the gossipers, and not for love, or friendship, or even lust. Is not the purpose of the [i]Dosvanky’a [/i]to allow two people the opportunity to mutually explore and learn the intricacies of intimacy, the language of love and sex, without being considered sullied by society for daring to have desires before marriage?”\n\n“I…yes, of course, but…”\n\n“So how is that served by partaking of one arranged partnership before another? I… I cannot imagine it, father. But I am trapped, am I not? For if I do not accept a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]your colleagues at the university will think I am a degenerate and you by association.”\n\nIlyas maintained his silence.\n\n“So… for the sake of avoiding such accusations upon us, father… would you be my [i]Dosvakny?”[/i]\n\nIlyas stammered, and then fell into a long moment of silence, wherein he simply stared at his son. \n\n“Sasha, I don’t…”\n\n“I know about Svarina, father. And about Singri∂.”\n\nIlyas squirmed uncomfortably. \n\n“I understand,” Sasha continued with intensity. “Though I wish that you had told me. To creep around in secrecy, to hold such an important thing to yourself… What did you think, that I would accuse you of being a pervert? Svarina and I have spoken of it.”\n\n“I cannot agree to this, Sasha, not with you in such a state of anger!”\n\n“Then think on it for a day, for my mind is made up and I shan’t change it. You need not scour the academies for yet more people I do not know.”\n\nIlyas held up his hand for silence, and Sasha complied. “If I agree to this, Sasha, you must know that ours would not be a sexual relationship, beyond answering questions you may have, or offering advice to you. There would be no outlet for your… desires… with me. I am… committed to your mother, and…”\n\nSasha nodded immediately, and gave a slight smile. “Oh I know it would be… nominally chaste, father. As I said, Svarina and I spoke.”\n\nIlyas considered. “Are you certain that you want this? If you and I enter [i]Dosvakny’a, [/i]you will be prohibited from seeking the pleasures of the flesh with any other, until the arrangement is terminated. I think we both know on a level how strong your desires are. There would be no…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. \n\n“I do not need it. I have never had it before, and I have my writing, for that. I want this, father.”\n\n[i]And this will guarantee that I stay close to Svarina, [/i]Sasha thought – an idea that caused his heart to race.\n\nIlyas abruptly chuckled, and his face split into a wide grin. “Oh, that I do know. I have read a little of your work, Sasha. You are a… singularly skilled writer.”\n\nIt was Sasha’s turn to nearly turn inside out. \n\n“Don’t worry. I enjoyed what I read. We must discuss it, sometime,” Ilyas laid his arm around Sasha’s shoulders and playfully ruffled his chest through his dressing gown. “My Sasha, my [i]Dosvakny!”[/i]\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAfter their tense and sexually charged interaction by the fire, he and Svarina did not spend much time alone together for the following week. She barely reacted to learning that he’d entered a [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with Ilyas, which surprised him somewhat. Sasha supposed it was probably for the best that she was keeping her distance from him; she had been very obviously aroused, as had he, and given his fantasies of her, it would have been a serious breach of etiquette for them to have gone any further than they did. In his private moments, Sasha imagined that Svarina’s aloofness was her way of keeping her own desire for him under control; that if they were to have another interaction like the one last week, she would not have the restraint to not rip off her clothes and mount him…\n\nDuring the day, Sasha wrote poetry and was beginning to dabble in stageplay as well. His fascination with the Athonian classics won him some level of quick recognition among the writers and performers at [i]Tails of Whimsy, [/i]and he began writing parts for specific actors.\n\nOf an evening, though, Sasha dedicated himself to the most perverted caprices his mind could conjure. It was more than just erotica for his own gratification; it was a compulsion. A calling. More than one of the writers to whom he had been introduced at [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]were cagey and guarded about their writing—until they learned that Sasha wrote scandalous debauchery, too. He shared some of his work with them, and they shared theirs with him. Through that, his mind was opened yet further, by people who clearly had some modicum of sexual experience that he lacked. \n\nHe felt driven to publish some of this work, to commit the hedonism that consumed his mind to paper and through it, write a commentary of the hypocrisy that seemed to so deeply underlie Olkvar society, and which gave rise to the very concept of the [i]Dosvakny’a.[/i]\n\nLittle about Sasha’s relationship to Ilyas truly changed in the first week of their declaration of [i]Dosvakny’y. [/i]Ilyas took himself off to work as usual, and while his continual prodding of Sasha to find a partner obviously ceased, for which Sasha was deeply grateful, he felt somewhat lost about what his responsibilities actually were. The [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]itself was a legal contract administered by the Arhani city authority, although its signing had been an occasion of almost no ceremony at all, attended only by Ilyas and Sasha themselves.\n\nThe main difference was that the boundaries between them no longer mattered—the veil of social stiffness was gone, as Ilyas shelved his role as Sasha’s father in favour of his role as Sasha’s [i]Dosvakny. [/i]Sasha wondered how Ilyas would divide his time among Svarina and he, and what his mother’s thoughts were on the arrangement.\n\nOne evening, Ilyas approached the doorway of Sasha’s room when he arrived home from his day’s work at the university. Sasha was, as usual, sitting at his writing desk, and was speaking lines aloud as he wrote them into his latest piece of stageplay.\n\n“Sasha?” Ilyas called.\n\nHe hung back, and waited for an answer before he walked in. Sasha chuckled. \n\n“Come in, father, I am decent and clothed.”\n\n“Good, although I suppose I need not worry about that any longer. I simply do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”\n\n“I very much doubt anything you could do, would make me uncomfortable any longer,” Sasha said. “What did you think of the poems you took to read last night?”\n\n“I liked them,” Ilyas said simply. “Although I fear that I do not have a literary mind in the slightest, so much of the hidden meaning probably escapes me. Here, I brought you more paper and ink. I did not anticipate you would go through it so fast!”\n\nSasha rose and hugged his father tightly, and took the proffered gifts. Ilyas hugged back slightly awkwardly. The older marten smelt faintly of old books, as though he’d been sitting in a library absorbing the vanillin oozing from a thousand old tomes—which, Sasha supposed, was probably exactly what he’d been doing, in a way. Sasha knew with some degree of certainty in that moment that Ilyas was probably not being entirely truthful with him about not having a literary mind. He’d already revealed that he was similarly afflicted with perversity of the mind, both through his own direct admission and through his lack of shock at the state he’d found Sasha in not long ago. \n\nSasha pulled back from the hug and fixed his father with a quizzical look, his eyes narrowed and lips drawn in a thin smile. Then he sat down on his wooden writing chair and leaned artistically on the desk.\n\n“What’s that look for?” Ilyas asked guardedly. \n\n“What’s been the favourite thing of mine that you’ve read?” \n\nIlyas hummed. “Is this a trick question?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“About your more… ahh… niche works?”\n\n“Perhaps.”\n\n“I have not read it all, but here and there I’ve caught a page or two—the adventures of Eos and Titus are… singularly enticing. I do wonder where you get such ideas from.”\n\n“From a mind which swims in the most debaucherous of sins, father. As I’m sure you’re aware.”\n\nIlyas cleared his throat. “Where are you going with this, Sasha?”\n\n“Well… you are my [i]Dosvakny, [/i]I am meant to share such things with you, am I not? About these urges and feelings that consume me?”\n\nIlyas chuckled. “You sound like your sister.”\n\nSasha’s eyelids fluttered and he exhaled with a soft hiss through his teeth. Ilyas raised an eyebrow. \n\n“What was the first thing Svarina asked you?” Sasha asked.\n\nIlyas drummed his fingers. Then he took a breath. “She wanted to see the tool that made her,” he said.\n\n“Oh, Arahan’s teeth, that’s…”\n\n“Direct.”\n\n“Mm.”\n\n“Did you show her?”\n\n“Not right away, but eventually, yes.”\n\n“Thus how she knows of your size, evidently.”\n\n[i]“What?!”[/i]\n\n“Svarina and I spoke of your [i]Dosvakny’a[/i], as I told you. At one point during our conversation, I became erect, and she mentioned that you and I appear to be similarly sized.”\n\nSasha’s openness in his admission caused his heart to flutter. Was he going too far? Admitting too much? He need not have worried. Ilyas simply laughed. \n\n“Aye, she has a certain boldness about her. But I should not be surprised to find that we are indeed very similar, being father and son.”\n\nThere was a moment of awkward silence. \n\n“You’re going to ask to see it, aren’t you?” Ilyas said. \n\n“N-no, no I’m not, it’s alright. I ahh… don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”\n\n“You won’t.”\n\n“…if it turns out that mine is larger.”\n\nIlyas snorted with laughter and playfully cuffed Sasha’s ear. Sasha laughed and hugged around his father’s waist. It was a level of openness and comfort that had never existed between the two men, and it warmed Sasha’s heart. Perhaps the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]would be about more than just sexual tension. Perhaps its true purpose was companionship, above all else.\n\n“There is… one thing that has been worrying me, somewhat,” Sasha said eventually. \n\n“Oh?”\n\n“This little poem I’ve written… is it too… ahh… direct, do you think?”\n\nHe was intending to take the piece to [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]the following evening to present to Ruslan and Svetla, part of a small anthology of sonnets and shorter pieces he’d penned, and itself a verse of a longer piece loosely based on the Eos and Titus story. Ilyas stood behind Sasha with his hands on his shoulders to peer over his shoulder at his words. \n\n \n\n[i]As the fweeteft Nectare of that moft Forbyddenne Bloome, outwardly from her Flowed as Liqeure into mine Aychinge Soul, an Floode of the moft Voluptuous and Yndulgente Love I hath felt. O, to fpill of mine moft fecretyve whimsy amongft the Petalles of her Adoration,over-cometh by a Desyre Divyne [/i]\n\n[i] [/i]\n\n“A curious use of metaphor, Sasha,” Ilyas noted. “Is this what you wish to be known for writing? It is… subtle, but deeply erotic at the same time. It hints at the rather more intense material in your other works, but unless one had read them, one might miss that in the forest of metaphor.”\n\nSasha’s ears were burning hotly and he squirmed under his father’s scrutiny. He wondered if Ilyas knew he was writing quite directly about Svarina. Or that she was the muse for all of his romantic and erotic pieces, these days. What had been a naïve and directionless eroticism through his days at the [i]Vospitanye [/i]had found a focus, a direction and an obsession, that he felt singularly incapable of placing on anyone but her.\n\nIn the depths of his mind he was certain that Ilyas knew that—that he could read his thoughts just as he imagined Svarina could. \n\n“So… about… mastering one’s urges[i],” [/i]Sasha prompted, to try and distract Ilyas from his poetry. He turned on his chair to face his father and looked up at him.\n\n“Hmm? Oh! Ahh, yes,” Ilyas responded with a guffaw. “About that. My apologies, Sasha, you are the first young man I’ve partnered with, so it’s as new to me as it is to you, in a way.”\n\nSasha fixed him with a doubtful stare. “But, unlike Svarina and Singri∂, father, you and I are… similarly equipped, and you were my age once. How did you manage it?”\n\n“Well, I was with my [i]Dosvakny [/i]fairly quickly after leaving the [i]Vospitanye, [/i]Sasha. Less than a month. But you’re right, during that first month of freedom and relative privacy, I did little else but pleasure myself. It is a normal part of growing up, despite what the priests say about the virtues of abstaining. It’s the whole reason we allow these partnerships outside of marriage; to allow young people to express their urges and explore themselves and their partners. I ah… I do recognise that in your case though, and indeed in Svarina’s, there is an additional challenge, caused by me.”\n\n“So you are saying it is normal to feel this way?”\n\n“Yes, Sasha, it is. Self-pleasure is… it’s universal. Even the priests do it, in all likelihood. Total abstinence is a complete farce. I understand it feels overwhelming at times… I’ve walked in on you more than once already mounting your pillow or obviously aroused. But there’s nothing wrong with you for having such strong urges. Feel free to indulge them… I shall certainly not stop you, or chastise you for it.”\n\nSasha mulled over Ilyas’ response, until his father cleared his throat.\n\n“Is there… is there anything you need to ask me about? That is one of the main roles of a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]after all, to be a person who you can ask questions of, about your body, or others’ bodies, or how best to conduct yourself.”\n\n“Is it… ahh…” Sasha began. \n\n“Have no fear, Sasha. Ask me anything at all.”\n\nSasha took a deep breath. “Is it normal for uh… for semen to spill during those moments? I had thought it was something that only happened during sexual congress between partners, but for me… I cannot prevent it happening.”\n\nIlyas’ eyebrows raised and his eyes sparkled briefly. \n\n“Is that a legitimate question?”\n\n“You said I could ask you anything!” Sasha snorted indignantly.\n\n“Yes, Sasha… and I am sorry that such knowledge was not already yours! How have you been managing it?”\n\nSasha’s ears were burning, and he had an erection. Ilyas appeared to have one too, judging from the way he squirmed and plucked surreptitiously at the front of his trousers. \n\n“I… try my very hardest not to let it happen, father. I can feel when it is about to occur, and then I stop, whatever it is I’m doing, and wait for it to go away, and then continue. But sometimes, I cannot stop, and just recently I have been allowing it to happen more and more.”\n\nIlyas exhaled slowly through his teeth and regarded his son, who was clearly quite piqued even just discussing it. \n\n“You do not need to hold it in, Sasha,” he said quietly, in a slightly husky voice. “Especially if doing so is something you are forcing. Why, most men and boys spill themselves near daily with impunity; the release of semen allows mental clarity and… it feels nice, and that is the key. Self-pleasure is meant to emulate sexual congress, to the extent that it can. It is safe and you should not take literally the strictures of the church. I believe I have seen references to Kasdall in your writing, the old pagan god of lust—ejaculation in historic times was considered to be the god speaking through your body, and it was openly encouraged. Offerings to Kasdall in his shrines were… ahh… quite deliberate offerings of lust and ejaculation.”\n\nSasha nodded slowly. \n\n“Feel no guilt for it, Sasha. It is a near-universal experience, but it seems like you hold yourself to notions of abstinence that defy your strong urges.”\n\n“Do you spill yourself often?” Sasha asked.\n\nIlyas laughed. “As often as I can. Less so the older I get, but at your age… often multiple times in a day.”\n\n“How? Every time it happens, I need to wash my pillow or my clothing or my fur! You must have never slept in a dry bed, or always had semen in your pelt.”\n\nIlyas blinked. “Ahh, yes you tend to use your pillow, don’t you? Why not simply use your hand and spill it into a cloth, or into your other hand to wash away more easily?”\n\nSasha blinked several times, slowly. \n\n“How… how do you use your hand?”\n\nIlyas’ mouth opened and closed. He harrumphed and began scouting across the room for an object. His hand fell on a rolled-up sheaf of papers, tied with a red ribbon. Sasha’s writing, that he was taking to [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]the following evening.\n\nIlyas held the papers horizontally in one hand, and wrapped his other hand in a loose fist around the cylinder. \n\n“Have you never considered this, Sasha?” he inquired. He moved his hand back and forth along the cylinder of paper, in a slow rhythm. \n\nSasha frowned. “I mean… yes, I have done that, of course, but nothing much happened and I stopped after a few moments.”\n\n“You need to give it some time, learn your technique. Doing so is quite different from one man to the next, although the premise of it is the same. You are attempting to cause your hand to emulate a partner’s vagina or… other body part, in a way that might feel like it would if you were thrusting your penis inside them during sexual congress. You probably already fantasise about exactly that while you’re hunched over your pillow, yes? Perhaps imagining that your pillow is a partner—Eos, for instance, from your stories, whom you are thrusting yourself into?”\n\nSasha hesitantly nodded. \n\n“Using your hand can make it much easier to control, once you get the hang of it. And it feels much better if you add some lubricant. There is some olive oil in the pantry downstairs I believe.”\n\nSasha squirmed. His penis released a lazy pulse of precum into his trousers, making a wet stain at the peak of his arousal. \n\nIlyas chuckled and motioned to the straining tent. “Though, if you are already in such a state, the clear fluid you create combined with some saliva can work just as well, in a pinch. I shall leave you to… learn about it, shall I?”\n\nIlyas stood, and returned the rolled up sheaf of papers to Sasha’s desk. The front of the older marten’s trousers were sharply distended, and he bore his own wet spot. Sasha stared at it. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for his father to [i]show [/i]him how to use his hand… by doing it to him. Demonstrating his own technique to him. His mind fogged with the thought of his father, stoic and gruff, standing behind him with that stiff rod pushed against the side of his tail, his hand moving up and down along his…\n\n“Sasha?”\n\nSasha started. Almost without realising it, he had stood and was advancing on his father. He drew back and covered himself with his hands. \n\n“You poor creature. Please, release some of that tension. And don’t hold it in!”\n\nIlyas withdrew, and left Sasha to his own devices. Sasha wanted to ask him to stay. To help. To teach him. But the words died on his lips. \n\nAs the door swung shut behind Ilyas, Sasha grappled with his clothing. He fumbled the buttons of his trousers open and shucked them hurriedly down his thighs. A thick stringy rope of slick fluid webbed down with them, and he sat his bare arse on his wooden writing chair. His cock stared up at him angrily, its head half-glistening with wetness. \n\nHurriedly, before the idea could leave his mind, Sasha fumbled for a sheet of paper and a quill, and hastily scrawled;\n\n \n\n[i]Titus and Eos’ Father discovers the fiblings engaged in their Forbyddenne Lust. They are afeared of his re-action, to fuch a debauch as theirs. Yet their Father… [Philocrates? Euphorion? Chysion? The latter may mean ‘ejaculation’] rather than expressing his Dystaste or Rage at their Synneful writhing, taketh it upon himself to teach them all the better, and begins by teaching his Son Titus and his Daughter Eos the Pleasures of Titus’ own Flesh by ftanding behind him, with his own Rod ftiff and exposed pressing to his Son’s Arse, and moving his Hand along his Son’s ftiff prick until he fpills of his Semen and offers it not only to Kasdall but to Eos, his Semen fplashing onto her Tits[/i]\n\n[i] [/i]\n\nSasha groaned hornily at the image he conjured in his mind, inserting Ilyas into his debauched fantasies for the first time. He was surprised how much that turned him on. His balls ached and twitched, hanging heavily between his spread thighs with a thick rope of clear, sticky fluid dangling from the head of his almost painfully erect cock. \n\nHe closed his eyes and tilted his head back over the backrest of his chair. It was easier to imagine it was Ilyas’ hand on his cock that way. And easier to imagine Svarina beneath his desk, her hot breath on his balls, her hand between her thighs…\n\nSasha curled his hand around his penis and slid his grip loosely up and down over it. The taut skin of his shaft, circumcised as he was, did not have much movement in it, and his grip slipped and caught on the skin. He squeezed harder, and moved the skin up and down to the extent he could. That felt better. But it also felt rough and almost painful. Then he remembered what Ilyas had said about lubrication. He was drooling large amounts of that clear, slippery fluid, and he swiped up a thick drool of it on his palm. Then he surrounded his glans with it, smearing it around the flesh and the skin behind it. His hand slid easily over it then, and Sasha gave a guttural, chittering moan at the rush of pleasure it caused almost instantly. \n\nMessily, hastily, he spat on both of his palms and wrapped both of his hands around his aching rod. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, still—his technique was untested and the only way he truly knew how to bring himself sexual pleasure was in the rhythmic grinding of his penis into his mattress or pillow. But there were times when he would put his hands beneath his pillow, and fold it around himself to thrust into something that surrounded his rod. Awkwardly, he held his hands open-palmed alongside his penis, and slid them up and down. It felt nice, but it didn’t set him alight. Frustratedly, he palmed over his slickened glans roughly and his breath caught in his throat. His hips jolted, and he instinctively curled his fist around his glans. His hips moved of their own accord it seemed, driving his urgently stiff prick into his palm. He gripped his shaft with the other hand and twisted his hands, as though his cock were a bottle he was trying to uncork, and was rewarded by a steady flow of the clear slickness. His balls tingled and his abdomen clenched and trembled. He hurriedly let go of himself and watched his cock pulse and twitch. It felt like he was desperate to piss when he rubbed it like that.\n\n[i]…[/i] [i]attempting to cause your hand to emulate a partner’s vagina or… other body part, in a way that might feel like it would if you were thrusting your penis inside them during sexual congress…[/i]\n\nIlyas words came back to him. \n\nHis hands were emulating something he had never felt, how should he know he was doing it correctly?\n\nHis penis glistened with wetness and there were little spiderwebs of stringy wetness in the dense fur around its base. He clenched his inner muscles and pushed, then clenched again. A squirt of the clear fluid, tainted with urine, trickled down his aching shaft into the nest of fur at its root. \n\n“Svarina’s vagina…” he mumbled hornily to himself, clamping his eyes shut and continuing to masturbate. \n\nHe gripped his cock in both hands, one over the other, and moved both hands up and down along it, a motion he imagined might be how a vagina would feel. Sliding down over him and back up again, slick and wet and warm. Sasha grunted and gurgled and hunched over himself. \n\nThat feeling returned almost instantly; the feeling of desperately needing to urinate. He pushed again, and forced a heavy squirt of piss through his fist, splattered messily by his fingers. His body convulsed, and he did not stop his rubbing. It was the most intense thing he’d ever felt.\n\nBut it wasn’t a nebulous fantasy of Svarina’s vagina that made him ejaculate. \n\nAt the last moment, as the stinging, pleasurable burn of semen rose up along his cock in the seconds before it spilled from him, he was imagining Ilyas on his knees in front of him, his mouth on his son’s cock, his own penis ejaculating across the floorboards under his writing desk. \n\nSasha yelped and released a primal chitter, and yanked his hands instinctively away from his rod. A thick, gooey rivulet of semen oozed from it to drip onto the floor. He clenched hard, fighting his instinct to force it not to spill, and then forcibly released the inner muscle he held so tightly shut. Immediately, a powerful blast of semen launched high over his head, then another onto his chest. His legs tensed and convulsed, and entirely unbidden he tipped backwards and his chair fell out from underneath him, sending the ejaculating marten sprawling onto his back on the floor with a loud thud, semen splattering messily all over his torso from his cock.\n\nHe laid there in a daze for a long minute. \n\nThen his door opened, and Ilyas came rushing in. \n\n“Sasha! Are you alright, I heard that bang, what h—oh by Arahan’s teeth.”\n\nIlyas burst out laughing, and in the heady rush of afterglow, so did Sasha. \n\n“I’m glad to see that worked, then!” Ilyas managed after a minute, brushing tears of mirth from his cheeks. \n\n[center]*[/center]"
    },
    ".description.json": {
      "description": "As Sasha settles in at home, Olkvar societal expectations begin to rear their heads - even as Sasha finds his niche and starts to draw closer to his poet and actor friends, Ruslan and Svetla. The Dosvakny'a is a pre-marital contract of monogamy, which is an expectation of young Olkvars prior to marriage. But Sasha cannot imagine being happy in such a scenario - when the subject of his deepest and most intense desire is his own sister, Svarina. \n\nBut a solution may be at hand...\n\nAlso... Sasha learns to crank his hog properly, finally. Thanks, Dad!"
    },
    ".writing.json": {
      "writing": "[center]The Incestuous Vices of Sasha Tatlavica[/center]\n\n[center]Bruno Hirschkoff[/center]\n[center]© February 2025[/center]\n\n[i]This is a work of erotic fiction for discerning adults only.[/i]\n\n[i]All characters and settings are fictional. The world of Asantrea and all of its concepts, locations, characters and associated artwork, literature, and other material is the sole creation of the Author and remains their intellectual property. [/i]\n\n[i]This work is not for commercial publication or distribution without the Author’s written consent.[/i]\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n[center]Chapter 3[/center]\n[center]The [i]Dosvakny’a[/i]\n\n1782 Arahan Domini\nArhanifell, Olkvarskali Oblast, Ithenor[/center]\n\n[center] *[/center]\n\nSasha had been home from the [i]Vospitanye [/i]for a little over a month. After the incident with his father, Sasha had become a little more discreet in his hedonistic wallowing. Finding out about [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]had been an unexpected boon to him, and was serving as an outlet for many of the young marten’s repressed thoughts and feelings. He no longer felt alone, a solitary writer in a society that relegated such minds to the periphery of the collective. [i]Tails of Whimsy, [/i]it turned out, was the name given to the artists’ collective itself, not a location. Meetings moved around, from bar to bar, tavern to tavern, each one brought to life by the influx of creative minds with their liberated social inhibitions and pursuit of delights of mind, body and culture. Sasha at first remained in the shadow of Ruslan and Svetla, but within a few weeks of attending the regular meetings, he’d become an accepted part of the collective. \n\nThey opened his eyes in ways he never thought possible. Sasha had no idea that so much music, laughter, poetry, stagecraft or art could exist in a city like Arhanifell. He simply didn’t know what he didn’t know, and was enchanted by [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]to the point of wanting it never to end.\n\nMeanwhile, at home, Ilyas began to ask more and more often of Sasha whether he had found a suitable [i]Dosvakny. [/i]He even introduced his son to Gotbedin, a colleague of Reyhani’s from the university’s academic board. He had a daughter who would soon graduate the [i]Vospitanye, [/i]he said, and would need to find a [i]Dosvakny. [/i]His father spoke highly of Sasha’s ambitions to go into academia, of his great intellect and kindness. Sasha was deeply intimidated by Gotbedin. He was a portly and severe fellow, who seemed to use his rotundity to invade one’s personal space and exhaled noisily through his nose where others might have politely laughed. But what bothered Sasha the most was the way Ilyas flattered him. It was so unlike his father, and the things he said to Gotbedin about Sasha were patently false, in some cases. He was not, as his father suggested, naturally skilled in the natural sciences, nor possessed of any great passion for the discipline of the scientific method. \n\nAfter Gotbedin had left their home, Sasha expressed as much to Ilyas. \n\n“I know, Sasha… but you need to find someone. Gotbedin is a curmudgeonly sod, but he’s extremely well connected and [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with someone close to him will open many doors for you, both personally and professionally,” Ilyas reasoned. \n\n“But you know as well as I do that I am useless with most science,” Sasha protested. “He’ll find out quickly that I’m not who you say I am.”\n\nIlyas did not have a good answer for that; Sasha could tell he was holding back from telling Sasha he should just study harder, or spend less time immersed in his silly fantasies of being a writer to devote more time to learning the sciences he claimed not to love. But to his credit, he did not say as much, and seemed genuinely to be trying to help Sasha find his place. \n\nStill, Ilyas’ actions perturbed Sasha, and he rankled at the thought that he would have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t just to satisfy the social norms of his society. Meeting Ruslan and Svetla and becoming involved in the city’s underground creative scene seemed to have highlighted that disconnect, in Sasha’s mind.\n\nSasha briefly considered asking if Ruslan or Svetla would agree to [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with him, and for a short time he thought it would be a good option. But the more he thought about it, the less suitable they seemed. Besides, he reasoned, neither Ruslan nor Svetla were interested in the stuffy and staid institutions of respectable Olkvar society, and their ‘unclean’ relationship told him straight away that they would not respect the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]either. Then there was the thought of having to introduce them to his family. They were actors. In the eyes of most Olkvars, they were dreamers, layabouts and ne’er-do-wells. And particularly for the Tatlavicas with their deep connections to the city’s academic elite, such a pairing would not be favourably regarded. And the last thing Sasha wanted was for his [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]to do more damage than if he remained single and—supposedly—chaste.\n\nSvarina still stood in Sasha’s mind as his preferred partner. It would be perfect, he thought—he would not have to performatively appease another family by upholding any expectation of pursuing a career in science, and if she agreed… Sasha’s heart hammered in his chest at the mere thought that she might. For her to agree to be with him in that context… it would imply, to him, that she felt the same about him as he did for her. \n\nAll he needed to do was find an opportunity to bring it up in conversation, and to ask her. But even for an author, he was struggling to find the words.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nIt was late evening. After a family meal to which Ma∂ina had invited her [i]Dosvakny, [/i]Reyhani and Ilyas retired to bed early. Ma∂ina and her partner remained for another hour before they too departed, leaving Svarina and Sasha alone together. They sat in front of the fire in the mezzanine lounge, with their backs to the ornate balustrade that ran around the inner edge of the space. The golden flicker of the fire was the only light, and cast long shadows around the space which danced along the bookshelves behind two wing-back leather armchairs, and blanketed the entrance foyer and staircase below in darkness. \n\n“It has been some time since we spoke alone,” Svarina said. “How are you settling in, little brother? The first month after leaving the [i]Vospitanye [/i]was… tumultuous, for me.”\n\nSasha gave her a thin smile and gathered his evening gown about himself. “Father speaks endlessly of the [i]Dosvakny’a[/i],” he said, slouching into his armchair opposite Svarina.\n\nIlyas, despite his early reassurances, was heaping pressure on Sasha to take the next step towards adulthood. Svarina gave her brother a sultry smile and slouched down to mirror his position. It was an immodest position for a woman, and Sasha felt his ears burning. All of his fantasies of her clamoured in his mind, and he felt as if she could read him like a book. The thought of asking her to be his [i]Dosvakny[/i] was on the tip of his tongue. \n\n“Yes, he is anxious for you to pair up with someone with connections, like Ma∂ina did. He only wants the best for you, you know. He sees how happy Ma∂ina is, and remembers how miserable Elvira was when she was forced to break with her [i]Dosvakny [/i]to marry a man. Elvira was always drawn to other women, you know.”\n\n“How would you know?” Sasha jibed. “You and I both were at Orya Yulinka for the whole time that was happening!”\n\n“Mother tells me things, you know. Women talk differently among themselves than they do when men are around. I am sure men are the same way.”\n\n“Men talk boorishly of the size of their rods,” Sasha said flatly. “And which women… or men… they wish to bury them into. At least, that was the topic of conversation in the final year at the [i]Vospitanye.[/i]”\n\nSvarina made a chittering noise of disgust. “Oh, the utter [i]cretins,[/i]” she said. \n\nSasha nodded affirmation. “Yes… it always felt… uncomfortable, to be around them for those conversations. As if those they coveted were little more than a conquest. They do not see the whole person, and for that they miss out on so much of the rapture of exploration, of mutual enjoyment of the physical.”\n\n“You’re a curious man, Sasha Tatlavica. You’re not like any other man I have ever known. As you say, most are boorish louts beneath the veneer of social propriety, but you are… softer than they are, gentler. Fascinated with people and their proclivities. Like a poet.”\n\nShe knew the word would get a reaction from him, and she was right. Sasha straightened in his chair and subtly raised his chin. \n\n“I am… glad that I come across as such, to you, dear sister,” he said. \n\n“Thought you’d appreciate that,” she smirked. “I should like to hear about that writers’ group you attend, sometime. I cannot imagine it being even faintly interesting, but you seem to have become fascinated by it.”\n\nSasha squirmed slightly in his armchair. \n\n“It is… so incredibly colourful, Svarina. Moreso than I feel I can express. There are more than just authors of novels; there are poets, musicians, actors, painters, sculptors, philosophers, performers of all kinds… it is a little like the colour and vivacity of a circus, the sort of place where the cast-offs of any number of cities and towns collect and share their ideas. It makes everything else seem dull and grey, by comparison.”\n\n“Do they…” Svarina began, and then paused. \n\n“What?”\n\n“Is there a lot of sexual congress?”\n\nSasha spluttered. \n\n“What? Is it such a terrible thing to ask?” Svarina said indignantly. “You’ve shown me some of the things you write, it [i]drips [/i]with sex, Sasha. I only wonder if that comes from your circus of actors and poets, since they so clearly exist outside of our social hierarchy.”\n\n“I… suppose there must be some amount of it happening, although I’ve not paid it all that much attention,” Sasha said carefully. “My writing is far from the most erotic I’ve seen.”\n\n“You are a shockingly bad liar, Sasha Tatlavica,” Svarina laughed. “I should wonder that it is like an orgy of desire, that you attend every week to gain inspiration and satiate your curiosities.”\n\nShe was gazing at him, her eyes glinting in the firelight and her hands steepled in front of her muzzle, slouched immodestly in her armchair with the soft cloth of her evening gown laid over the subtle curves of her body like the ephemeral garments the ancients carved from marble to appear softer than silk. He swallowed thickly.\n\nThere was a moment of silence. He would never get a better chance, he fancied. Sasha took a deep breath and held it, then exhaled. Then another. Slowly, the words coalesced in his mind, and he forced his voice to be calm and level; “Svarina, I never asked and you’ve never said… are you [i]Dosvakny’y[/i] with anyone?”\n\nShe gave him another of those little half-smiles she always gave him. The type of smile that hinted that she could read his mind, and see his most depraved thoughts writ large across his face.\n\n“Yes, little brother, I am taken. A little after the end of my first month home, my contract began. I… I am sorry, I can tell this was not what you wanted to hear. You were going to ask me, weren’t you?”\n\nSasha’s heart sank like a stone. Svarina was taken. She was off limits to him. The realisation did not hit him like a hammer blow, but welled up from within him like the destructive fire of a volcano, burning all it passed with languid and terrible slowness. He swallowed thickly and stared into the fire. Then something occurred to him.\n\n“With whom?” he asked. “I have seen you leave the house during the day, but you are always back in the evenings. Do you only visit them during the day? And never have them over?”\n\n“Oh, he lives here.”\n\nSasha’s brain took a solid ten seconds to process the meaning of his sister’s off-handed comment. He felt as if he was clinging to a Sarg galleon in a storm. \n\n“Wait. You… you are [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with [i]Father?!”[/i]\n\n“Yes! Did he not mention? He was Singri∂’s, as well.”\n\n“N-no, he did not mention!”\n\nSasha was shocked. Svarina was [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with their father. Images pulsed and throbbed through his mind of what that meant, in practice, when they were alone together. He struggled to imagine his stoic father being comfortable teaching anyone about the sorts of things a [i]Dosvakny [/i]should, let alone his own daughter… not to mention [i]two [/i]of his daughters.\n\n“Are you alright there, little brother?” Svarina smirked. “You seem… piqued.”\n\nSasha hurriedly gathered the folds of his gown into his lap. Svarina noticed, and fixed him with a look that melted the ice in his heart as easily as the volcano sweeps away a field of grain.\n\n“I… my apologies, that was… quite a shock. He is very discreet about it, I have never heard… I mean… seen… or… thought…” Sasha stumbled over his words. \n\nSvarina raised a hand and curled her fingers to observe her manicured claws with a sort of aloof smugness. \n\n“What’s… what’s it like?” Sasha managed after a moment of awkward silence. \n\n“What, being [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with one’s own father?”\n\nSasha nodded. \n\n“You little pervert,” Svarina chuckled. “It’s… Well, it’s alright, I suppose. We talk a lot. It’s very open. He tells me stories of when he was our age, exploring and discovering things with his [i]Dosvakny. [/i]She was his age, and they truly loved one another, as he said on your first night here.”\n\n“Do you… uhm…” Sasha began. [i]Fuck? [/i]his mind concluded. \n\nSvarina lifted her gaze to stare at him. He once again felt that she was reading his thoughts. He throbbed in his clothing. But instead of chastising him or calling him a pervert, she gave a wistful sigh.\n\n“No. He never… he’s got a strong moral compass, or at least has repressed that part of himself that deep down wants to,” she sighed. “He can speak very openly in some moments, but in others he’s as uptight as a priest. I’ve learned that those are the moments when he’s fighting something back. He… is very good at ignoring certain things. Treating them with utter detachment and nonchalance, like he’s discussing the weather or advising me on how to calculate some physical constant or other, not…” \n\n“Not…?” Sasha prompted. \n\nSvarina stared into the fire for a long moment and then chittered in frustration, squeezing her thighs together tightly. “Not… instructing me on how to give pleasure to a man with my mouth with his fingers standing in for… for… or how to trim the fur… down there… so that I look younger… apparently men like that. I’ll never quite understand it. Surely men want a [i]woman, [/i]not a girl, yes? But no, father says, the absence of the adult fur there allows… ugh. I sometimes wish he would be less uptight and stuck to his moral virtues, and just [i]fuck me,” [/i]she said breathily. “Show me what it is to be taken by a man. He… he ignores the signs I give him, no matter how… ahh… frank I am, or how forward. I am often so turned on it [i]aches.”[/i]\n\nSasha’s breath was frozen in his throat, even as the furnace of Bezar himself roared in his loins. Svarina was still gazing into the flickering fire, not at him, as if somehow the flames would be her confidant, her shield and keep her secret. Sasha, driven by his surging arousal, and perhaps a little immaturely, allowed the folds of his gown to fall to his hips once again, such that if she were to look over she would see the straining ridge of his erection under his clothes. He stared at her hungrily. He saw her thighs tense and release rhythmically a couple of times, and her lips parted just a touch. Her nipples were erect within her gown, and he could see the little peaks they cast in the cloth by the flickering firelight. Sasha ached to taste her breath, to feel the warm softness of her lips pressed to his, and the hunger in her touch as she pushed her hand down the front of his…\n\n“I’m sorry, Sasha, that was… a lot… I should not have shared that mu… Are you quite alright there, Sasha?”\n\nShe was staring at him suddenly, not into the fire. Sasha froze. He was breathing rapidly, and calmed himself with some effort. She was not staring at his face. Her tongue flicked momentarily past her upper lip, and she pressed her hand into her groin for a brief moment, before standing. \n\n“I should… retire, before my resolve not to hike my skirt and sit on that dissipates entirely. Put it away, Sasha.”\n\nSasha covered his tented pants with his gown again. Svarina stepped toward him and leaned in to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. With her, she brought a waft of a scent so intimate, so warm and enticing that Sasha immediately knew precisely what it was… although it was a thing he had never smelt before. His cock burned with desire in his pants, throbbing and drooling into the cloth, and he pressed his hand onto it firmly, breathing deeply of the scent of his sister’s arousal.\n\n“Good boy,” she purred, and then chuckled against his ear, lingering there. Her hand clenched and unclenched, and she transferred her gaze into his lap again. Then she plucked his hand away from it, and his gown fell open again. She exhaled shakily. “Must be hard to ignore that when it gets like that. Father’s is similarly sized… seems you take after him.”\n\nThen she kissed the corner of his mouth delicately, straightened, stretched luxuriantly, turned her back and slunk off up the stairs. He stayed there in a state of shock and painfully intense arousal, holding her scent in his lungs until he saw stars in the back of his eyes and was forced to take a fresh breath.\n\nSvarina knew [i]exactly [/i]what she’d been doing to him, by revealing such an intimacy, Sasha fancied. Their shared moment of arousal smouldered in Sasha’s mind for the remainder of the evening, while he brought himself to the burning, teetering edge of climax again and again in the privacy of his room, imagining her doing just the same… yet it was not that thought specifically that finally sent Sasha into convulsions of sticky ecstasy against his pillow. It was imagining Svarina touching herself, boldly and openly, in the presence of their stoic father. An image that was so intense that he completely abandoned any notion that spilling his seed alone was forbidden, and simply allowed it to happen.\n\nHe knew for Arahan’s truth that if she were to be so open, so bold, around him, he would be powerless to resist her temptations, [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]or no. As he drifted into sleep, he discovered that the spark of hope he held for a closer bond with his sister had not been entirely extinguished by knowing that she was taken by their father.\n\nAnd suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to his brain, Sasha knew what he had to do.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n“Sasha!” Ilyas greeted his son with a hug and a kiss to his forehead. \n\n“Good morning,” Sasha mumbled. \n\n“Did you sleep well?” Reyhani said, bustling him into the kitchen and furnishing him with a steaming bowl of porridge.\n\nSasha nodded and returned his mother’s hug, holding the porridge up to save it spilling into her hair.\n\n“Have you had any further thoughts about the offer from Gotbedin?” Ilyas prompted. “I and your mother are going to see him today and should like to convey your answer to him.”\n\nReyhani took the cue to leave the two men alone for that discussion, and made her way upstairs with a bowl of porridge for Svarina. \n\n“I can tell from your silence that you are reluctant… I can always find some others to introduce you to, if you do not feel that being close to Gotbedin would benefit…”\n\n“N-no,” Sasha said.\n\nIlyas stopped talking. \n\n“I… don’t know if I can, father, I…”\n\n“But Sasha, you must! Why, if you do not take a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]there are many who will assume, with no evidence whatsoever, that you are living uncleanly and sullying yourself in the fleshpots! And we all know about your writers’ group, already people are beginning to wonder about you…”\n\nSasha felt an upwelling of anger. How dare people he did not so much as know the names of whisper about his private life? What business was it of theirs?\n\n“It is not the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]itself that disturbs me, father! Rather that it seems to be all about elevating one’s status or silencing the gossipers, and not for love, or friendship, or even lust. Is not the purpose of the [i]Dosvanky’a [/i]to allow two people the opportunity to mutually explore and learn the intricacies of intimacy, the language of love and sex, without being considered sullied by society for daring to have desires before marriage?”\n\n“I…yes, of course, but…”\n\n“So how is that served by partaking of one arranged partnership before another? I… I cannot imagine it, father. But I am trapped, am I not? For if I do not accept a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]your colleagues at the university will think I am a degenerate and you by association.”\n\nIlyas maintained his silence.\n\n“So… for the sake of avoiding such accusations upon us, father… would you be my [i]Dosvakny?”[/i]\n\nIlyas stammered, and then fell into a long moment of silence, wherein he simply stared at his son. \n\n“Sasha, I don’t…”\n\n“I know about Svarina, father. And about Singri∂.”\n\nIlyas squirmed uncomfortably. \n\n“I understand,” Sasha continued with intensity. “Though I wish that you had told me. To creep around in secrecy, to hold such an important thing to yourself… What did you think, that I would accuse you of being a pervert? Svarina and I have spoken of it.”\n\n“I cannot agree to this, Sasha, not with you in such a state of anger!”\n\n“Then think on it for a day, for my mind is made up and I shan’t change it. You need not scour the academies for yet more people I do not know.”\n\nIlyas held up his hand for silence, and Sasha complied. “If I agree to this, Sasha, you must know that ours would not be a sexual relationship, beyond answering questions you may have, or offering advice to you. There would be no outlet for your… desires… with me. I am… committed to your mother, and…”\n\nSasha nodded immediately, and gave a slight smile. “Oh I know it would be… nominally chaste, father. As I said, Svarina and I spoke.”\n\nIlyas considered. “Are you certain that you want this? If you and I enter [i]Dosvakny’a, [/i]you will be prohibited from seeking the pleasures of the flesh with any other, until the arrangement is terminated. I think we both know on a level how strong your desires are. There would be no…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. \n\n“I do not need it. I have never had it before, and I have my writing, for that. I want this, father.”\n\n[i]And this will guarantee that I stay close to Svarina, [/i]Sasha thought – an idea that caused his heart to race.\n\nIlyas abruptly chuckled, and his face split into a wide grin. “Oh, that I do know. I have read a little of your work, Sasha. You are a… singularly skilled writer.”\n\nIt was Sasha’s turn to nearly turn inside out. \n\n“Don’t worry. I enjoyed what I read. We must discuss it, sometime,” Ilyas laid his arm around Sasha’s shoulders and playfully ruffled his chest through his dressing gown. “My Sasha, my [i]Dosvakny!”[/i]\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAfter their tense and sexually charged interaction by the fire, he and Svarina did not spend much time alone together for the following week. She barely reacted to learning that he’d entered a [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with Ilyas, which surprised him somewhat. Sasha supposed it was probably for the best that she was keeping her distance from him; she had been very obviously aroused, as had he, and given his fantasies of her, it would have been a serious breach of etiquette for them to have gone any further than they did. In his private moments, Sasha imagined that Svarina’s aloofness was her way of keeping her own desire for him under control; that if they were to have another interaction like the one last week, she would not have the restraint to not rip off her clothes and mount him…\n\nDuring the day, Sasha wrote poetry and was beginning to dabble in stageplay as well. His fascination with the Athonian classics won him some level of quick recognition among the writers and performers at [i]Tails of Whimsy, [/i]and he began writing parts for specific actors.\n\nOf an evening, though, Sasha dedicated himself to the most perverted caprices his mind could conjure. It was more than just erotica for his own gratification; it was a compulsion. A calling. More than one of the writers to whom he had been introduced at [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]were cagey and guarded about their writing—until they learned that Sasha wrote scandalous debauchery, too. He shared some of his work with them, and they shared theirs with him. Through that, his mind was opened yet further, by people who clearly had some modicum of sexual experience that he lacked. \n\nHe felt driven to publish some of this work, to commit the hedonism that consumed his mind to paper and through it, write a commentary of the hypocrisy that seemed to so deeply underlie Olkvar society, and which gave rise to the very concept of the [i]Dosvakny’a.[/i]\n\nLittle about Sasha’s relationship to Ilyas truly changed in the first week of their declaration of [i]Dosvakny’y. [/i]Ilyas took himself off to work as usual, and while his continual prodding of Sasha to find a partner obviously ceased, for which Sasha was deeply grateful, he felt somewhat lost about what his responsibilities actually were. The [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]itself was a legal contract administered by the Arhani city authority, although its signing had been an occasion of almost no ceremony at all, attended only by Ilyas and Sasha themselves.\n\nThe main difference was that the boundaries between them no longer mattered—the veil of social stiffness was gone, as Ilyas shelved his role as Sasha’s father in favour of his role as Sasha’s [i]Dosvakny. [/i]Sasha wondered how Ilyas would divide his time among Svarina and he, and what his mother’s thoughts were on the arrangement.\n\nOne evening, Ilyas approached the doorway of Sasha’s room when he arrived home from his day’s work at the university. Sasha was, as usual, sitting at his writing desk, and was speaking lines aloud as he wrote them into his latest piece of stageplay.\n\n“Sasha?” Ilyas called.\n\nHe hung back, and waited for an answer before he walked in. Sasha chuckled. \n\n“Come in, father, I am decent and clothed.”\n\n“Good, although I suppose I need not worry about that any longer. I simply do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”\n\n“I very much doubt anything you could do, would make me uncomfortable any longer,” Sasha said. “What did you think of the poems you took to read last night?”\n\n“I liked them,” Ilyas said simply. “Although I fear that I do not have a literary mind in the slightest, so much of the hidden meaning probably escapes me. Here, I brought you more paper and ink. I did not anticipate you would go through it so fast!”\n\nSasha rose and hugged his father tightly, and took the proffered gifts. Ilyas hugged back slightly awkwardly. The older marten smelt faintly of old books, as though he’d been sitting in a library absorbing the vanillin oozing from a thousand old tomes—which, Sasha supposed, was probably exactly what he’d been doing, in a way. Sasha knew with some degree of certainty in that moment that Ilyas was probably not being entirely truthful with him about not having a literary mind. He’d already revealed that he was similarly afflicted with perversity of the mind, both through his own direct admission and through his lack of shock at the state he’d found Sasha in not long ago. \n\nSasha pulled back from the hug and fixed his father with a quizzical look, his eyes narrowed and lips drawn in a thin smile. Then he sat down on his wooden writing chair and leaned artistically on the desk.\n\n“What’s that look for?” Ilyas asked guardedly. \n\n“What’s been the favourite thing of mine that you’ve read?” \n\nIlyas hummed. “Is this a trick question?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“About your more… ahh… niche works?”\n\n“Perhaps.”\n\n“I have not read it all, but here and there I’ve caught a page or two—the adventures of Eos and Titus are… singularly enticing. I do wonder where you get such ideas from.”\n\n“From a mind which swims in the most debaucherous of sins, father. As I’m sure you’re aware.”\n\nIlyas cleared his throat. “Where are you going with this, Sasha?”\n\n“Well… you are my [i]Dosvakny, [/i]I am meant to share such things with you, am I not? About these urges and feelings that consume me?”\n\nIlyas chuckled. “You sound like your sister.”\n\nSasha’s eyelids fluttered and he exhaled with a soft hiss through his teeth. Ilyas raised an eyebrow. \n\n“What was the first thing Svarina asked you?” Sasha asked.\n\nIlyas drummed his fingers. Then he took a breath. “She wanted to see the tool that made her,” he said.\n\n“Oh, Arahan’s teeth, that’s…”\n\n“Direct.”\n\n“Mm.”\n\n“Did you show her?”\n\n“Not right away, but eventually, yes.”\n\n“Thus how she knows of your size, evidently.”\n\n[i]“What?!”[/i]\n\n“Svarina and I spoke of your [i]Dosvakny’a[/i], as I told you. At one point during our conversation, I became erect, and she mentioned that you and I appear to be similarly sized.”\n\nSasha’s openness in his admission caused his heart to flutter. Was he going too far? Admitting too much? He need not have worried. Ilyas simply laughed. \n\n“Aye, she has a certain boldness about her. But I should not be surprised to find that we are indeed very similar, being father and son.”\n\nThere was a moment of awkward silence. \n\n“You’re going to ask to see it, aren’t you?” Ilyas said. \n\n“N-no, no I’m not, it’s alright. I ahh… don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”\n\n“You won’t.”\n\n“…if it turns out that mine is larger.”\n\nIlyas snorted with laughter and playfully cuffed Sasha’s ear. Sasha laughed and hugged around his father’s waist. It was a level of openness and comfort that had never existed between the two men, and it warmed Sasha’s heart. Perhaps the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]would be about more than just sexual tension. Perhaps its true purpose was companionship, above all else.\n\n“There is… one thing that has been worrying me, somewhat,” Sasha said eventually. \n\n“Oh?”\n\n“This little poem I’ve written… is it too… ahh… direct, do you think?”\n\nHe was intending to take the piece to [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]the following evening to present to Ruslan and Svetla, part of a small anthology of sonnets and shorter pieces he’d penned, and itself a verse of a longer piece loosely based on the Eos and Titus story. Ilyas stood behind Sasha with his hands on his shoulders to peer over his shoulder at his words. \n\n \n\n[i]As the fweeteft Nectare of that moft Forbyddenne Bloome, outwardly from her Flowed as Liqeure into mine Aychinge Soul, an Floode of the moft Voluptuous and Yndulgente Love I hath felt. O, to fpill of mine moft fecretyve whimsy amongft the Petalles of her Adoration,over-cometh by a Desyre Divyne [/i]\n\n[i] [/i]\n\n“A curious use of metaphor, Sasha,” Ilyas noted. “Is this what you wish to be known for writing? It is… subtle, but deeply erotic at the same time. It hints at the rather more intense material in your other works, but unless one had read them, one might miss that in the forest of metaphor.”\n\nSasha’s ears were burning hotly and he squirmed under his father’s scrutiny. He wondered if Ilyas knew he was writing quite directly about Svarina. Or that she was the muse for all of his romantic and erotic pieces, these days. What had been a naïve and directionless eroticism through his days at the [i]Vospitanye [/i]had found a focus, a direction and an obsession, that he felt singularly incapable of placing on anyone but her.\n\nIn the depths of his mind he was certain that Ilyas knew that—that he could read his thoughts just as he imagined Svarina could. \n\n“So… about… mastering one’s urges[i],” [/i]Sasha prompted, to try and distract Ilyas from his poetry. He turned on his chair to face his father and looked up at him.\n\n“Hmm? Oh! Ahh, yes,” Ilyas responded with a guffaw. “About that. My apologies, Sasha, you are the first young man I’ve partnered with, so it’s as new to me as it is to you, in a way.”\n\nSasha fixed him with a doubtful stare. “But, unlike Svarina and Singri∂, father, you and I are… similarly equipped, and you were my age once. How did you manage it?”\n\n“Well, I was with my [i]Dosvakny [/i]fairly quickly after leaving the [i]Vospitanye, [/i]Sasha. Less than a month. But you’re right, during that first month of freedom and relative privacy, I did little else but pleasure myself. It is a normal part of growing up, despite what the priests say about the virtues of abstaining. It’s the whole reason we allow these partnerships outside of marriage; to allow young people to express their urges and explore themselves and their partners. I ah… I do recognise that in your case though, and indeed in Svarina’s, there is an additional challenge, caused by me.”\n\n“So you are saying it is normal to feel this way?”\n\n“Yes, Sasha, it is. Self-pleasure is… it’s universal. Even the priests do it, in all likelihood. Total abstinence is a complete farce. I understand it feels overwhelming at times… I’ve walked in on you more than once already mounting your pillow or obviously aroused. But there’s nothing wrong with you for having such strong urges. Feel free to indulge them… I shall certainly not stop you, or chastise you for it.”\n\nSasha mulled over Ilyas’ response, until his father cleared his throat.\n\n“Is there… is there anything you need to ask me about? That is one of the main roles of a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]after all, to be a person who you can ask questions of, about your body, or others’ bodies, or how best to conduct yourself.”\n\n“Is it… ahh…” Sasha began. \n\n“Have no fear, Sasha. Ask me anything at all.”\n\nSasha took a deep breath. “Is it normal for uh… for semen to spill during those moments? I had thought it was something that only happened during sexual congress between partners, but for me… I cannot prevent it happening.”\n\nIlyas’ eyebrows raised and his eyes sparkled briefly. \n\n“Is that a legitimate question?”\n\n“You said I could ask you anything!” Sasha snorted indignantly.\n\n“Yes, Sasha… and I am sorry that such knowledge was not already yours! How have you been managing it?”\n\nSasha’s ears were burning, and he had an erection. Ilyas appeared to have one too, judging from the way he squirmed and plucked surreptitiously at the front of his trousers. \n\n“I… try my very hardest not to let it happen, father. I can feel when it is about to occur, and then I stop, whatever it is I’m doing, and wait for it to go away, and then continue. But sometimes, I cannot stop, and just recently I have been allowing it to happen more and more.”\n\nIlyas exhaled slowly through his teeth and regarded his son, who was clearly quite piqued even just discussing it. \n\n“You do not need to hold it in, Sasha,” he said quietly, in a slightly husky voice. “Especially if doing so is something you are forcing. Why, most men and boys spill themselves near daily with impunity; the release of semen allows mental clarity and… it feels nice, and that is the key. Self-pleasure is meant to emulate sexual congress, to the extent that it can. It is safe and you should not take literally the strictures of the church. I believe I have seen references to Kasdall in your writing, the old pagan god of lust—ejaculation in historic times was considered to be the god speaking through your body, and it was openly encouraged. Offerings to Kasdall in his shrines were… ahh… quite deliberate offerings of lust and ejaculation.”\n\nSasha nodded slowly. \n\n“Feel no guilt for it, Sasha. It is a near-universal experience, but it seems like you hold yourself to notions of abstinence that defy your strong urges.”\n\n“Do you spill yourself often?” Sasha asked.\n\nIlyas laughed. “As often as I can. Less so the older I get, but at your age… often multiple times in a day.”\n\n“How? Every time it happens, I need to wash my pillow or my clothing or my fur! You must have never slept in a dry bed, or always had semen in your pelt.”\n\nIlyas blinked. “Ahh, yes you tend to use your pillow, don’t you? Why not simply use your hand and spill it into a cloth, or into your other hand to wash away more easily?”\n\nSasha blinked several times, slowly. \n\n“How… how do you use your hand?”\n\nIlyas’ mouth opened and closed. He harrumphed and began scouting across the room for an object. His hand fell on a rolled-up sheaf of papers, tied with a red ribbon. Sasha’s writing, that he was taking to [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]the following evening.\n\nIlyas held the papers horizontally in one hand, and wrapped his other hand in a loose fist around the cylinder. \n\n“Have you never considered this, Sasha?” he inquired. He moved his hand back and forth along the cylinder of paper, in a slow rhythm. \n\nSasha frowned. “I mean… yes, I have done that, of course, but nothing much happened and I stopped after a few moments.”\n\n“You need to give it some time, learn your technique. Doing so is quite different from one man to the next, although the premise of it is the same. You are attempting to cause your hand to emulate a partner’s vagina or… other body part, in a way that might feel like it would if you were thrusting your penis inside them during sexual congress. You probably already fantasise about exactly that while you’re hunched over your pillow, yes? Perhaps imagining that your pillow is a partner—Eos, for instance, from your stories, whom you are thrusting yourself into?”\n\nSasha hesitantly nodded. \n\n“Using your hand can make it much easier to control, once you get the hang of it. And it feels much better if you add some lubricant. There is some olive oil in the pantry downstairs I believe.”\n\nSasha squirmed. His penis released a lazy pulse of precum into his trousers, making a wet stain at the peak of his arousal. \n\nIlyas chuckled and motioned to the straining tent. “Though, if you are already in such a state, the clear fluid you create combined with some saliva can work just as well, in a pinch. I shall leave you to… learn about it, shall I?”\n\nIlyas stood, and returned the rolled up sheaf of papers to Sasha’s desk. The front of the older marten’s trousers were sharply distended, and he bore his own wet spot. Sasha stared at it. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for his father to [i]show [/i]him how to use his hand… by doing it to him. Demonstrating his own technique to him. His mind fogged with the thought of his father, stoic and gruff, standing behind him with that stiff rod pushed against the side of his tail, his hand moving up and down along his…\n\n“Sasha?”\n\nSasha started. Almost without realising it, he had stood and was advancing on his father. He drew back and covered himself with his hands. \n\n“You poor creature. Please, release some of that tension. And don’t hold it in!”\n\nIlyas withdrew, and left Sasha to his own devices. Sasha wanted to ask him to stay. To help. To teach him. But the words died on his lips. \n\nAs the door swung shut behind Ilyas, Sasha grappled with his clothing. He fumbled the buttons of his trousers open and shucked them hurriedly down his thighs. A thick stringy rope of slick fluid webbed down with them, and he sat his bare arse on his wooden writing chair. His cock stared up at him angrily, its head half-glistening with wetness. \n\nHurriedly, before the idea could leave his mind, Sasha fumbled for a sheet of paper and a quill, and hastily scrawled;\n\n \n\n[i]Titus and Eos’ Father discovers the fiblings engaged in their Forbyddenne Lust. They are afeared of his re-action, to fuch a debauch as theirs. Yet their Father… [Philocrates? Euphorion? Chysion? The latter may mean ‘ejaculation’] rather than expressing his Dystaste or Rage at their Synneful writhing, taketh it upon himself to teach them all the better, and begins by teaching his Son Titus and his Daughter Eos the Pleasures of Titus’ own Flesh by ftanding behind him, with his own Rod ftiff and exposed pressing to his Son’s Arse, and moving his Hand along his Son’s ftiff prick until he fpills of his Semen and offers it not only to Kasdall but to Eos, his Semen fplashing onto her Tits[/i]\n\n[i] [/i]\n\nSasha groaned hornily at the image he conjured in his mind, inserting Ilyas into his debauched fantasies for the first time. He was surprised how much that turned him on. His balls ached and twitched, hanging heavily between his spread thighs with a thick rope of clear, sticky fluid dangling from the head of his almost painfully erect cock. \n\nHe closed his eyes and tilted his head back over the backrest of his chair. It was easier to imagine it was Ilyas’ hand on his cock that way. And easier to imagine Svarina beneath his desk, her hot breath on his balls, her hand between her thighs…\n\nSasha curled his hand around his penis and slid his grip loosely up and down over it. The taut skin of his shaft, circumcised as he was, did not have much movement in it, and his grip slipped and caught on the skin. He squeezed harder, and moved the skin up and down to the extent he could. That felt better. But it also felt rough and almost painful. Then he remembered what Ilyas had said about lubrication. He was drooling large amounts of that clear, slippery fluid, and he swiped up a thick drool of it on his palm. Then he surrounded his glans with it, smearing it around the flesh and the skin behind it. His hand slid easily over it then, and Sasha gave a guttural, chittering moan at the rush of pleasure it caused almost instantly. \n\nMessily, hastily, he spat on both of his palms and wrapped both of his hands around his aching rod. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, still—his technique was untested and the only way he truly knew how to bring himself sexual pleasure was in the rhythmic grinding of his penis into his mattress or pillow. But there were times when he would put his hands beneath his pillow, and fold it around himself to thrust into something that surrounded his rod. Awkwardly, he held his hands open-palmed alongside his penis, and slid them up and down. It felt nice, but it didn’t set him alight. Frustratedly, he palmed over his slickened glans roughly and his breath caught in his throat. His hips jolted, and he instinctively curled his fist around his glans. His hips moved of their own accord it seemed, driving his urgently stiff prick into his palm. He gripped his shaft with the other hand and twisted his hands, as though his cock were a bottle he was trying to uncork, and was rewarded by a steady flow of the clear slickness. His balls tingled and his abdomen clenched and trembled. He hurriedly let go of himself and watched his cock pulse and twitch. It felt like he was desperate to piss when he rubbed it like that.\n\n[i]…[/i] [i]attempting to cause your hand to emulate a partner’s vagina or… other body part, in a way that might feel like it would if you were thrusting your penis inside them during sexual congress…[/i]\n\nIlyas words came back to him. \n\nHis hands were emulating something he had never felt, how should he know he was doing it correctly?\n\nHis penis glistened with wetness and there were little spiderwebs of stringy wetness in the dense fur around its base. He clenched his inner muscles and pushed, then clenched again. A squirt of the clear fluid, tainted with urine, trickled down his aching shaft into the nest of fur at its root. \n\n“Svarina’s vagina…” he mumbled hornily to himself, clamping his eyes shut and continuing to masturbate. \n\nHe gripped his cock in both hands, one over the other, and moved both hands up and down along it, a motion he imagined might be how a vagina would feel. Sliding down over him and back up again, slick and wet and warm. Sasha grunted and gurgled and hunched over himself. \n\nThat feeling returned almost instantly; the feeling of desperately needing to urinate. He pushed again, and forced a heavy squirt of piss through his fist, splattered messily by his fingers. His body convulsed, and he did not stop his rubbing. It was the most intense thing he’d ever felt.\n\nBut it wasn’t a nebulous fantasy of Svarina’s vagina that made him ejaculate. \n\nAt the last moment, as the stinging, pleasurable burn of semen rose up along his cock in the seconds before it spilled from him, he was imagining Ilyas on his knees in front of him, his mouth on his son’s cock, his own penis ejaculating across the floorboards under his writing desk. \n\nSasha yelped and released a primal chitter, and yanked his hands instinctively away from his rod. A thick, gooey rivulet of semen oozed from it to drip onto the floor. He clenched hard, fighting his instinct to force it not to spill, and then forcibly released the inner muscle he held so tightly shut. Immediately, a powerful blast of semen launched high over his head, then another onto his chest. His legs tensed and convulsed, and entirely unbidden he tipped backwards and his chair fell out from underneath him, sending the ejaculating marten sprawling onto his back on the floor with a loud thud, semen splattering messily all over his torso from his cock.\n\nHe laid there in a daze for a long minute. \n\nThen his door opened, and Ilyas came rushing in. \n\n“Sasha! Are you alright, I heard that bang, what h—oh by Arahan’s teeth.”\n\nIlyas burst out laughing, and in the heady rush of afterglow, so did Sasha. \n\n“I’m glad to see that worked, then!” Ilyas managed after a minute, brushing tears of mirth from his cheeks. \n\n[center]*[/center]"
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  "writing": "[center]The Incestuous Vices of Sasha Tatlavica[/center]\n\n[center]Bruno Hirschkoff[/center]\n[center]© February 2025[/center]\n\n[i]This is a work of erotic fiction for discerning adults only.[/i]\n\n[i]All characters and settings are fictional. The world of Asantrea and all of its concepts, locations, characters and associated artwork, literature, and other material is the sole creation of the Author and remains their intellectual property. [/i]\n\n[i]This work is not for commercial publication or distribution without the Author’s written consent.[/i]\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n[center]Chapter 3[/center]\n[center]The [i]Dosvakny’a[/i]\n\n1782 Arahan Domini\nArhanifell, Olkvarskali Oblast, Ithenor[/center]\n\n[center] *[/center]\n\nSasha had been home from the [i]Vospitanye [/i]for a little over a month. After the incident with his father, Sasha had become a little more discreet in his hedonistic wallowing. Finding out about [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]had been an unexpected boon to him, and was serving as an outlet for many of the young marten’s repressed thoughts and feelings. He no longer felt alone, a solitary writer in a society that relegated such minds to the periphery of the collective. [i]Tails of Whimsy, [/i]it turned out, was the name given to the artists’ collective itself, not a location. Meetings moved around, from bar to bar, tavern to tavern, each one brought to life by the influx of creative minds with their liberated social inhibitions and pursuit of delights of mind, body and culture. Sasha at first remained in the shadow of Ruslan and Svetla, but within a few weeks of attending the regular meetings, he’d become an accepted part of the collective. \n\nThey opened his eyes in ways he never thought possible. Sasha had no idea that so much music, laughter, poetry, stagecraft or art could exist in a city like Arhanifell. He simply didn’t know what he didn’t know, and was enchanted by [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]to the point of wanting it never to end.\n\nMeanwhile, at home, Ilyas began to ask more and more often of Sasha whether he had found a suitable [i]Dosvakny. [/i]He even introduced his son to Gotbedin, a colleague of Reyhani’s from the university’s academic board. He had a daughter who would soon graduate the [i]Vospitanye, [/i]he said, and would need to find a [i]Dosvakny. [/i]His father spoke highly of Sasha’s ambitions to go into academia, of his great intellect and kindness. Sasha was deeply intimidated by Gotbedin. He was a portly and severe fellow, who seemed to use his rotundity to invade one’s personal space and exhaled noisily through his nose where others might have politely laughed. But what bothered Sasha the most was the way Ilyas flattered him. It was so unlike his father, and the things he said to Gotbedin about Sasha were patently false, in some cases. He was not, as his father suggested, naturally skilled in the natural sciences, nor possessed of any great passion for the discipline of the scientific method. \n\nAfter Gotbedin had left their home, Sasha expressed as much to Ilyas. \n\n“I know, Sasha… but you need to find someone. Gotbedin is a curmudgeonly sod, but he’s extremely well connected and [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with someone close to him will open many doors for you, both personally and professionally,” Ilyas reasoned. \n\n“But you know as well as I do that I am useless with most science,” Sasha protested. “He’ll find out quickly that I’m not who you say I am.”\n\nIlyas did not have a good answer for that; Sasha could tell he was holding back from telling Sasha he should just study harder, or spend less time immersed in his silly fantasies of being a writer to devote more time to learning the sciences he claimed not to love. But to his credit, he did not say as much, and seemed genuinely to be trying to help Sasha find his place. \n\nStill, Ilyas’ actions perturbed Sasha, and he rankled at the thought that he would have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t just to satisfy the social norms of his society. Meeting Ruslan and Svetla and becoming involved in the city’s underground creative scene seemed to have highlighted that disconnect, in Sasha’s mind.\n\nSasha briefly considered asking if Ruslan or Svetla would agree to [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with him, and for a short time he thought it would be a good option. But the more he thought about it, the less suitable they seemed. Besides, he reasoned, neither Ruslan nor Svetla were interested in the stuffy and staid institutions of respectable Olkvar society, and their ‘unclean’ relationship told him straight away that they would not respect the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]either. Then there was the thought of having to introduce them to his family. They were actors. In the eyes of most Olkvars, they were dreamers, layabouts and ne’er-do-wells. And particularly for the Tatlavicas with their deep connections to the city’s academic elite, such a pairing would not be favourably regarded. And the last thing Sasha wanted was for his [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]to do more damage than if he remained single and—supposedly—chaste.\n\nSvarina still stood in Sasha’s mind as his preferred partner. It would be perfect, he thought—he would not have to performatively appease another family by upholding any expectation of pursuing a career in science, and if she agreed… Sasha’s heart hammered in his chest at the mere thought that she might. For her to agree to be with him in that context… it would imply, to him, that she felt the same about him as he did for her. \n\nAll he needed to do was find an opportunity to bring it up in conversation, and to ask her. But even for an author, he was struggling to find the words.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nIt was late evening. After a family meal to which Ma∂ina had invited her [i]Dosvakny, [/i]Reyhani and Ilyas retired to bed early. Ma∂ina and her partner remained for another hour before they too departed, leaving Svarina and Sasha alone together. They sat in front of the fire in the mezzanine lounge, with their backs to the ornate balustrade that ran around the inner edge of the space. The golden flicker of the fire was the only light, and cast long shadows around the space which danced along the bookshelves behind two wing-back leather armchairs, and blanketed the entrance foyer and staircase below in darkness. \n\n“It has been some time since we spoke alone,” Svarina said. “How are you settling in, little brother? The first month after leaving the [i]Vospitanye [/i]was… tumultuous, for me.”\n\nSasha gave her a thin smile and gathered his evening gown about himself. “Father speaks endlessly of the [i]Dosvakny’a[/i],” he said, slouching into his armchair opposite Svarina.\n\nIlyas, despite his early reassurances, was heaping pressure on Sasha to take the next step towards adulthood. Svarina gave her brother a sultry smile and slouched down to mirror his position. It was an immodest position for a woman, and Sasha felt his ears burning. All of his fantasies of her clamoured in his mind, and he felt as if she could read him like a book. The thought of asking her to be his [i]Dosvakny[/i] was on the tip of his tongue. \n\n“Yes, he is anxious for you to pair up with someone with connections, like Ma∂ina did. He only wants the best for you, you know. He sees how happy Ma∂ina is, and remembers how miserable Elvira was when she was forced to break with her [i]Dosvakny [/i]to marry a man. Elvira was always drawn to other women, you know.”\n\n“How would you know?” Sasha jibed. “You and I both were at Orya Yulinka for the whole time that was happening!”\n\n“Mother tells me things, you know. Women talk differently among themselves than they do when men are around. I am sure men are the same way.”\n\n“Men talk boorishly of the size of their rods,” Sasha said flatly. “And which women… or men… they wish to bury them into. At least, that was the topic of conversation in the final year at the [i]Vospitanye.[/i]”\n\nSvarina made a chittering noise of disgust. “Oh, the utter [i]cretins,[/i]” she said. \n\nSasha nodded affirmation. “Yes… it always felt… uncomfortable, to be around them for those conversations. As if those they coveted were little more than a conquest. They do not see the whole person, and for that they miss out on so much of the rapture of exploration, of mutual enjoyment of the physical.”\n\n“You’re a curious man, Sasha Tatlavica. You’re not like any other man I have ever known. As you say, most are boorish louts beneath the veneer of social propriety, but you are… softer than they are, gentler. Fascinated with people and their proclivities. Like a poet.”\n\nShe knew the word would get a reaction from him, and she was right. Sasha straightened in his chair and subtly raised his chin. \n\n“I am… glad that I come across as such, to you, dear sister,” he said. \n\n“Thought you’d appreciate that,” she smirked. “I should like to hear about that writers’ group you attend, sometime. I cannot imagine it being even faintly interesting, but you seem to have become fascinated by it.”\n\nSasha squirmed slightly in his armchair. \n\n“It is… so incredibly colourful, Svarina. Moreso than I feel I can express. There are more than just authors of novels; there are poets, musicians, actors, painters, sculptors, philosophers, performers of all kinds… it is a little like the colour and vivacity of a circus, the sort of place where the cast-offs of any number of cities and towns collect and share their ideas. It makes everything else seem dull and grey, by comparison.”\n\n“Do they…” Svarina began, and then paused. \n\n“What?”\n\n“Is there a lot of sexual congress?”\n\nSasha spluttered. \n\n“What? Is it such a terrible thing to ask?” Svarina said indignantly. “You’ve shown me some of the things you write, it [i]drips [/i]with sex, Sasha. I only wonder if that comes from your circus of actors and poets, since they so clearly exist outside of our social hierarchy.”\n\n“I… suppose there must be some amount of it happening, although I’ve not paid it all that much attention,” Sasha said carefully. “My writing is far from the most erotic I’ve seen.”\n\n“You are a shockingly bad liar, Sasha Tatlavica,” Svarina laughed. “I should wonder that it is like an orgy of desire, that you attend every week to gain inspiration and satiate your curiosities.”\n\nShe was gazing at him, her eyes glinting in the firelight and her hands steepled in front of her muzzle, slouched immodestly in her armchair with the soft cloth of her evening gown laid over the subtle curves of her body like the ephemeral garments the ancients carved from marble to appear softer than silk. He swallowed thickly.\n\nThere was a moment of silence. He would never get a better chance, he fancied. Sasha took a deep breath and held it, then exhaled. Then another. Slowly, the words coalesced in his mind, and he forced his voice to be calm and level; “Svarina, I never asked and you’ve never said… are you [i]Dosvakny’y[/i] with anyone?”\n\nShe gave him another of those little half-smiles she always gave him. The type of smile that hinted that she could read his mind, and see his most depraved thoughts writ large across his face.\n\n“Yes, little brother, I am taken. A little after the end of my first month home, my contract began. I… I am sorry, I can tell this was not what you wanted to hear. You were going to ask me, weren’t you?”\n\nSasha’s heart sank like a stone. Svarina was taken. She was off limits to him. The realisation did not hit him like a hammer blow, but welled up from within him like the destructive fire of a volcano, burning all it passed with languid and terrible slowness. He swallowed thickly and stared into the fire. Then something occurred to him.\n\n“With whom?” he asked. “I have seen you leave the house during the day, but you are always back in the evenings. Do you only visit them during the day? And never have them over?”\n\n“Oh, he lives here.”\n\nSasha’s brain took a solid ten seconds to process the meaning of his sister’s off-handed comment. He felt as if he was clinging to a Sarg galleon in a storm. \n\n“Wait. You… you are [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with [i]Father?!”[/i]\n\n“Yes! Did he not mention? He was Singri∂’s, as well.”\n\n“N-no, he did not mention!”\n\nSasha was shocked. Svarina was [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with their father. Images pulsed and throbbed through his mind of what that meant, in practice, when they were alone together. He struggled to imagine his stoic father being comfortable teaching anyone about the sorts of things a [i]Dosvakny [/i]should, let alone his own daughter… not to mention [i]two [/i]of his daughters.\n\n“Are you alright there, little brother?” Svarina smirked. “You seem… piqued.”\n\nSasha hurriedly gathered the folds of his gown into his lap. Svarina noticed, and fixed him with a look that melted the ice in his heart as easily as the volcano sweeps away a field of grain.\n\n“I… my apologies, that was… quite a shock. He is very discreet about it, I have never heard… I mean… seen… or… thought…” Sasha stumbled over his words. \n\nSvarina raised a hand and curled her fingers to observe her manicured claws with a sort of aloof smugness. \n\n“What’s… what’s it like?” Sasha managed after a moment of awkward silence. \n\n“What, being [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with one’s own father?”\n\nSasha nodded. \n\n“You little pervert,” Svarina chuckled. “It’s… Well, it’s alright, I suppose. We talk a lot. It’s very open. He tells me stories of when he was our age, exploring and discovering things with his [i]Dosvakny. [/i]She was his age, and they truly loved one another, as he said on your first night here.”\n\n“Do you… uhm…” Sasha began. [i]Fuck? [/i]his mind concluded. \n\nSvarina lifted her gaze to stare at him. He once again felt that she was reading his thoughts. He throbbed in his clothing. But instead of chastising him or calling him a pervert, she gave a wistful sigh.\n\n“No. He never… he’s got a strong moral compass, or at least has repressed that part of himself that deep down wants to,” she sighed. “He can speak very openly in some moments, but in others he’s as uptight as a priest. I’ve learned that those are the moments when he’s fighting something back. He… is very good at ignoring certain things. Treating them with utter detachment and nonchalance, like he’s discussing the weather or advising me on how to calculate some physical constant or other, not…” \n\n“Not…?” Sasha prompted. \n\nSvarina stared into the fire for a long moment and then chittered in frustration, squeezing her thighs together tightly. “Not… instructing me on how to give pleasure to a man with my mouth with his fingers standing in for… for… or how to trim the fur… down there… so that I look younger… apparently men like that. I’ll never quite understand it. Surely men want a [i]woman, [/i]not a girl, yes? But no, father says, the absence of the adult fur there allows… ugh. I sometimes wish he would be less uptight and stuck to his moral virtues, and just [i]fuck me,” [/i]she said breathily. “Show me what it is to be taken by a man. He… he ignores the signs I give him, no matter how… ahh… frank I am, or how forward. I am often so turned on it [i]aches.”[/i]\n\nSasha’s breath was frozen in his throat, even as the furnace of Bezar himself roared in his loins. Svarina was still gazing into the flickering fire, not at him, as if somehow the flames would be her confidant, her shield and keep her secret. Sasha, driven by his surging arousal, and perhaps a little immaturely, allowed the folds of his gown to fall to his hips once again, such that if she were to look over she would see the straining ridge of his erection under his clothes. He stared at her hungrily. He saw her thighs tense and release rhythmically a couple of times, and her lips parted just a touch. Her nipples were erect within her gown, and he could see the little peaks they cast in the cloth by the flickering firelight. Sasha ached to taste her breath, to feel the warm softness of her lips pressed to his, and the hunger in her touch as she pushed her hand down the front of his…\n\n“I’m sorry, Sasha, that was… a lot… I should not have shared that mu… Are you quite alright there, Sasha?”\n\nShe was staring at him suddenly, not into the fire. Sasha froze. He was breathing rapidly, and calmed himself with some effort. She was not staring at his face. Her tongue flicked momentarily past her upper lip, and she pressed her hand into her groin for a brief moment, before standing. \n\n“I should… retire, before my resolve not to hike my skirt and sit on that dissipates entirely. Put it away, Sasha.”\n\nSasha covered his tented pants with his gown again. Svarina stepped toward him and leaned in to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. With her, she brought a waft of a scent so intimate, so warm and enticing that Sasha immediately knew precisely what it was… although it was a thing he had never smelt before. His cock burned with desire in his pants, throbbing and drooling into the cloth, and he pressed his hand onto it firmly, breathing deeply of the scent of his sister’s arousal.\n\n“Good boy,” she purred, and then chuckled against his ear, lingering there. Her hand clenched and unclenched, and she transferred her gaze into his lap again. Then she plucked his hand away from it, and his gown fell open again. She exhaled shakily. “Must be hard to ignore that when it gets like that. Father’s is similarly sized… seems you take after him.”\n\nThen she kissed the corner of his mouth delicately, straightened, stretched luxuriantly, turned her back and slunk off up the stairs. He stayed there in a state of shock and painfully intense arousal, holding her scent in his lungs until he saw stars in the back of his eyes and was forced to take a fresh breath.\n\nSvarina knew [i]exactly [/i]what she’d been doing to him, by revealing such an intimacy, Sasha fancied. Their shared moment of arousal smouldered in Sasha’s mind for the remainder of the evening, while he brought himself to the burning, teetering edge of climax again and again in the privacy of his room, imagining her doing just the same… yet it was not that thought specifically that finally sent Sasha into convulsions of sticky ecstasy against his pillow. It was imagining Svarina touching herself, boldly and openly, in the presence of their stoic father. An image that was so intense that he completely abandoned any notion that spilling his seed alone was forbidden, and simply allowed it to happen.\n\nHe knew for Arahan’s truth that if she were to be so open, so bold, around him, he would be powerless to resist her temptations, [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]or no. As he drifted into sleep, he discovered that the spark of hope he held for a closer bond with his sister had not been entirely extinguished by knowing that she was taken by their father.\n\nAnd suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to his brain, Sasha knew what he had to do.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n“Sasha!” Ilyas greeted his son with a hug and a kiss to his forehead. \n\n“Good morning,” Sasha mumbled. \n\n“Did you sleep well?” Reyhani said, bustling him into the kitchen and furnishing him with a steaming bowl of porridge.\n\nSasha nodded and returned his mother’s hug, holding the porridge up to save it spilling into her hair.\n\n“Have you had any further thoughts about the offer from Gotbedin?” Ilyas prompted. “I and your mother are going to see him today and should like to convey your answer to him.”\n\nReyhani took the cue to leave the two men alone for that discussion, and made her way upstairs with a bowl of porridge for Svarina. \n\n“I can tell from your silence that you are reluctant… I can always find some others to introduce you to, if you do not feel that being close to Gotbedin would benefit…”\n\n“N-no,” Sasha said.\n\nIlyas stopped talking. \n\n“I… don’t know if I can, father, I…”\n\n“But Sasha, you must! Why, if you do not take a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]there are many who will assume, with no evidence whatsoever, that you are living uncleanly and sullying yourself in the fleshpots! And we all know about your writers’ group, already people are beginning to wonder about you…”\n\nSasha felt an upwelling of anger. How dare people he did not so much as know the names of whisper about his private life? What business was it of theirs?\n\n“It is not the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]itself that disturbs me, father! Rather that it seems to be all about elevating one’s status or silencing the gossipers, and not for love, or friendship, or even lust. Is not the purpose of the [i]Dosvanky’a [/i]to allow two people the opportunity to mutually explore and learn the intricacies of intimacy, the language of love and sex, without being considered sullied by society for daring to have desires before marriage?”\n\n“I…yes, of course, but…”\n\n“So how is that served by partaking of one arranged partnership before another? I… I cannot imagine it, father. But I am trapped, am I not? For if I do not accept a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]your colleagues at the university will think I am a degenerate and you by association.”\n\nIlyas maintained his silence.\n\n“So… for the sake of avoiding such accusations upon us, father… would you be my [i]Dosvakny?”[/i]\n\nIlyas stammered, and then fell into a long moment of silence, wherein he simply stared at his son. \n\n“Sasha, I don’t…”\n\n“I know about Svarina, father. And about Singri∂.”\n\nIlyas squirmed uncomfortably. \n\n“I understand,” Sasha continued with intensity. “Though I wish that you had told me. To creep around in secrecy, to hold such an important thing to yourself… What did you think, that I would accuse you of being a pervert? Svarina and I have spoken of it.”\n\n“I cannot agree to this, Sasha, not with you in such a state of anger!”\n\n“Then think on it for a day, for my mind is made up and I shan’t change it. You need not scour the academies for yet more people I do not know.”\n\nIlyas held up his hand for silence, and Sasha complied. “If I agree to this, Sasha, you must know that ours would not be a sexual relationship, beyond answering questions you may have, or offering advice to you. There would be no outlet for your… desires… with me. I am… committed to your mother, and…”\n\nSasha nodded immediately, and gave a slight smile. “Oh I know it would be… nominally chaste, father. As I said, Svarina and I spoke.”\n\nIlyas considered. “Are you certain that you want this? If you and I enter [i]Dosvakny’a, [/i]you will be prohibited from seeking the pleasures of the flesh with any other, until the arrangement is terminated. I think we both know on a level how strong your desires are. There would be no…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. \n\n“I do not need it. I have never had it before, and I have my writing, for that. I want this, father.”\n\n[i]And this will guarantee that I stay close to Svarina, [/i]Sasha thought – an idea that caused his heart to race.\n\nIlyas abruptly chuckled, and his face split into a wide grin. “Oh, that I do know. I have read a little of your work, Sasha. You are a… singularly skilled writer.”\n\nIt was Sasha’s turn to nearly turn inside out. \n\n“Don’t worry. I enjoyed what I read. We must discuss it, sometime,” Ilyas laid his arm around Sasha’s shoulders and playfully ruffled his chest through his dressing gown. “My Sasha, my [i]Dosvakny!”[/i]\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAfter their tense and sexually charged interaction by the fire, he and Svarina did not spend much time alone together for the following week. She barely reacted to learning that he’d entered a [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with Ilyas, which surprised him somewhat. Sasha supposed it was probably for the best that she was keeping her distance from him; she had been very obviously aroused, as had he, and given his fantasies of her, it would have been a serious breach of etiquette for them to have gone any further than they did. In his private moments, Sasha imagined that Svarina’s aloofness was her way of keeping her own desire for him under control; that if they were to have another interaction like the one last week, she would not have the restraint to not rip off her clothes and mount him…\n\nDuring the day, Sasha wrote poetry and was beginning to dabble in stageplay as well. His fascination with the Athonian classics won him some level of quick recognition among the writers and performers at [i]Tails of Whimsy, [/i]and he began writing parts for specific actors.\n\nOf an evening, though, Sasha dedicated himself to the most perverted caprices his mind could conjure. It was more than just erotica for his own gratification; it was a compulsion. A calling. More than one of the writers to whom he had been introduced at [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]were cagey and guarded about their writing—until they learned that Sasha wrote scandalous debauchery, too. He shared some of his work with them, and they shared theirs with him. Through that, his mind was opened yet further, by people who clearly had some modicum of sexual experience that he lacked. \n\nHe felt driven to publish some of this work, to commit the hedonism that consumed his mind to paper and through it, write a commentary of the hypocrisy that seemed to so deeply underlie Olkvar society, and which gave rise to the very concept of the [i]Dosvakny’a.[/i]\n\nLittle about Sasha’s relationship to Ilyas truly changed in the first week of their declaration of [i]Dosvakny’y. [/i]Ilyas took himself off to work as usual, and while his continual prodding of Sasha to find a partner obviously ceased, for which Sasha was deeply grateful, he felt somewhat lost about what his responsibilities actually were. The [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]itself was a legal contract administered by the Arhani city authority, although its signing had been an occasion of almost no ceremony at all, attended only by Ilyas and Sasha themselves.\n\nThe main difference was that the boundaries between them no longer mattered—the veil of social stiffness was gone, as Ilyas shelved his role as Sasha’s father in favour of his role as Sasha’s [i]Dosvakny. [/i]Sasha wondered how Ilyas would divide his time among Svarina and he, and what his mother’s thoughts were on the arrangement.\n\nOne evening, Ilyas approached the doorway of Sasha’s room when he arrived home from his day’s work at the university. Sasha was, as usual, sitting at his writing desk, and was speaking lines aloud as he wrote them into his latest piece of stageplay.\n\n“Sasha?” Ilyas called.\n\nHe hung back, and waited for an answer before he walked in. Sasha chuckled. \n\n“Come in, father, I am decent and clothed.”\n\n“Good, although I suppose I need not worry about that any longer. I simply do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”\n\n“I very much doubt anything you could do, would make me uncomfortable any longer,” Sasha said. “What did you think of the poems you took to read last night?”\n\n“I liked them,” Ilyas said simply. “Although I fear that I do not have a literary mind in the slightest, so much of the hidden meaning probably escapes me. Here, I brought you more paper and ink. I did not anticipate you would go through it so fast!”\n\nSasha rose and hugged his father tightly, and took the proffered gifts. Ilyas hugged back slightly awkwardly. The older marten smelt faintly of old books, as though he’d been sitting in a library absorbing the vanillin oozing from a thousand old tomes—which, Sasha supposed, was probably exactly what he’d been doing, in a way. Sasha knew with some degree of certainty in that moment that Ilyas was probably not being entirely truthful with him about not having a literary mind. He’d already revealed that he was similarly afflicted with perversity of the mind, both through his own direct admission and through his lack of shock at the state he’d found Sasha in not long ago. \n\nSasha pulled back from the hug and fixed his father with a quizzical look, his eyes narrowed and lips drawn in a thin smile. Then he sat down on his wooden writing chair and leaned artistically on the desk.\n\n“What’s that look for?” Ilyas asked guardedly. \n\n“What’s been the favourite thing of mine that you’ve read?” \n\nIlyas hummed. “Is this a trick question?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“About your more… ahh… niche works?”\n\n“Perhaps.”\n\n“I have not read it all, but here and there I’ve caught a page or two—the adventures of Eos and Titus are… singularly enticing. I do wonder where you get such ideas from.”\n\n“From a mind which swims in the most debaucherous of sins, father. As I’m sure you’re aware.”\n\nIlyas cleared his throat. “Where are you going with this, Sasha?”\n\n“Well… you are my [i]Dosvakny, [/i]I am meant to share such things with you, am I not? About these urges and feelings that consume me?”\n\nIlyas chuckled. “You sound like your sister.”\n\nSasha’s eyelids fluttered and he exhaled with a soft hiss through his teeth. Ilyas raised an eyebrow. \n\n“What was the first thing Svarina asked you?” Sasha asked.\n\nIlyas drummed his fingers. Then he took a breath. “She wanted to see the tool that made her,” he said.\n\n“Oh, Arahan’s teeth, that’s…”\n\n“Direct.”\n\n“Mm.”\n\n“Did you show her?”\n\n“Not right away, but eventually, yes.”\n\n“Thus how she knows of your size, evidently.”\n\n[i]“What?!”[/i]\n\n“Svarina and I spoke of your [i]Dosvakny’a[/i], as I told you. At one point during our conversation, I became erect, and she mentioned that you and I appear to be similarly sized.”\n\nSasha’s openness in his admission caused his heart to flutter. Was he going too far? Admitting too much? He need not have worried. Ilyas simply laughed. \n\n“Aye, she has a certain boldness about her. But I should not be surprised to find that we are indeed very similar, being father and son.”\n\nThere was a moment of awkward silence. \n\n“You’re going to ask to see it, aren’t you?” Ilyas said. \n\n“N-no, no I’m not, it’s alright. I ahh… don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”\n\n“You won’t.”\n\n“…if it turns out that mine is larger.”\n\nIlyas snorted with laughter and playfully cuffed Sasha’s ear. Sasha laughed and hugged around his father’s waist. It was a level of openness and comfort that had never existed between the two men, and it warmed Sasha’s heart. Perhaps the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]would be about more than just sexual tension. Perhaps its true purpose was companionship, above all else.\n\n“There is… one thing that has been worrying me, somewhat,” Sasha said eventually. \n\n“Oh?”\n\n“This little poem I’ve written… is it too… ahh… direct, do you think?”\n\nHe was intending to take the piece to [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]the following evening to present to Ruslan and Svetla, part of a small anthology of sonnets and shorter pieces he’d penned, and itself a verse of a longer piece loosely based on the Eos and Titus story. Ilyas stood behind Sasha with his hands on his shoulders to peer over his shoulder at his words. \n\n \n\n[i]As the fweeteft Nectare of that moft Forbyddenne Bloome, outwardly from her Flowed as Liqeure into mine Aychinge Soul, an Floode of the moft Voluptuous and Yndulgente Love I hath felt. O, to fpill of mine moft fecretyve whimsy amongft the Petalles of her Adoration,over-cometh by a Desyre Divyne [/i]\n\n[i] [/i]\n\n“A curious use of metaphor, Sasha,” Ilyas noted. “Is this what you wish to be known for writing? It is… subtle, but deeply erotic at the same time. It hints at the rather more intense material in your other works, but unless one had read them, one might miss that in the forest of metaphor.”\n\nSasha’s ears were burning hotly and he squirmed under his father’s scrutiny. He wondered if Ilyas knew he was writing quite directly about Svarina. Or that she was the muse for all of his romantic and erotic pieces, these days. What had been a naïve and directionless eroticism through his days at the [i]Vospitanye [/i]had found a focus, a direction and an obsession, that he felt singularly incapable of placing on anyone but her.\n\nIn the depths of his mind he was certain that Ilyas knew that—that he could read his thoughts just as he imagined Svarina could. \n\n“So… about… mastering one’s urges[i],” [/i]Sasha prompted, to try and distract Ilyas from his poetry. He turned on his chair to face his father and looked up at him.\n\n“Hmm? Oh! Ahh, yes,” Ilyas responded with a guffaw. “About that. My apologies, Sasha, you are the first young man I’ve partnered with, so it’s as new to me as it is to you, in a way.”\n\nSasha fixed him with a doubtful stare. “But, unlike Svarina and Singri∂, father, you and I are… similarly equipped, and you were my age once. How did you manage it?”\n\n“Well, I was with my [i]Dosvakny [/i]fairly quickly after leaving the [i]Vospitanye, [/i]Sasha. Less than a month. But you’re right, during that first month of freedom and relative privacy, I did little else but pleasure myself. It is a normal part of growing up, despite what the priests say about the virtues of abstaining. It’s the whole reason we allow these partnerships outside of marriage; to allow young people to express their urges and explore themselves and their partners. I ah… I do recognise that in your case though, and indeed in Svarina’s, there is an additional challenge, caused by me.”\n\n“So you are saying it is normal to feel this way?”\n\n“Yes, Sasha, it is. Self-pleasure is… it’s universal. Even the priests do it, in all likelihood. Total abstinence is a complete farce. I understand it feels overwhelming at times… I’ve walked in on you more than once already mounting your pillow or obviously aroused. But there’s nothing wrong with you for having such strong urges. Feel free to indulge them… I shall certainly not stop you, or chastise you for it.”\n\nSasha mulled over Ilyas’ response, until his father cleared his throat.\n\n“Is there… is there anything you need to ask me about? That is one of the main roles of a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]after all, to be a person who you can ask questions of, about your body, or others’ bodies, or how best to conduct yourself.”\n\n“Is it… ahh…” Sasha began. \n\n“Have no fear, Sasha. Ask me anything at all.”\n\nSasha took a deep breath. “Is it normal for uh… for semen to spill during those moments? I had thought it was something that only happened during sexual congress between partners, but for me… I cannot prevent it happening.”\n\nIlyas’ eyebrows raised and his eyes sparkled briefly. \n\n“Is that a legitimate question?”\n\n“You said I could ask you anything!” Sasha snorted indignantly.\n\n“Yes, Sasha… and I am sorry that such knowledge was not already yours! How have you been managing it?”\n\nSasha’s ears were burning, and he had an erection. Ilyas appeared to have one too, judging from the way he squirmed and plucked surreptitiously at the front of his trousers. \n\n“I… try my very hardest not to let it happen, father. I can feel when it is about to occur, and then I stop, whatever it is I’m doing, and wait for it to go away, and then continue. But sometimes, I cannot stop, and just recently I have been allowing it to happen more and more.”\n\nIlyas exhaled slowly through his teeth and regarded his son, who was clearly quite piqued even just discussing it. \n\n“You do not need to hold it in, Sasha,” he said quietly, in a slightly husky voice. “Especially if doing so is something you are forcing. Why, most men and boys spill themselves near daily with impunity; the release of semen allows mental clarity and… it feels nice, and that is the key. Self-pleasure is meant to emulate sexual congress, to the extent that it can. It is safe and you should not take literally the strictures of the church. I believe I have seen references to Kasdall in your writing, the old pagan god of lust—ejaculation in historic times was considered to be the god speaking through your body, and it was openly encouraged. Offerings to Kasdall in his shrines were… ahh… quite deliberate offerings of lust and ejaculation.”\n\nSasha nodded slowly. \n\n“Feel no guilt for it, Sasha. It is a near-universal experience, but it seems like you hold yourself to notions of abstinence that defy your strong urges.”\n\n“Do you spill yourself often?” Sasha asked.\n\nIlyas laughed. “As often as I can. Less so the older I get, but at your age… often multiple times in a day.”\n\n“How? Every time it happens, I need to wash my pillow or my clothing or my fur! You must have never slept in a dry bed, or always had semen in your pelt.”\n\nIlyas blinked. “Ahh, yes you tend to use your pillow, don’t you? Why not simply use your hand and spill it into a cloth, or into your other hand to wash away more easily?”\n\nSasha blinked several times, slowly. \n\n“How… how do you use your hand?”\n\nIlyas’ mouth opened and closed. He harrumphed and began scouting across the room for an object. His hand fell on a rolled-up sheaf of papers, tied with a red ribbon. Sasha’s writing, that he was taking to [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]the following evening.\n\nIlyas held the papers horizontally in one hand, and wrapped his other hand in a loose fist around the cylinder. \n\n“Have you never considered this, Sasha?” he inquired. He moved his hand back and forth along the cylinder of paper, in a slow rhythm. \n\nSasha frowned. “I mean… yes, I have done that, of course, but nothing much happened and I stopped after a few moments.”\n\n“You need to give it some time, learn your technique. Doing so is quite different from one man to the next, although the premise of it is the same. You are attempting to cause your hand to emulate a partner’s vagina or… other body part, in a way that might feel like it would if you were thrusting your penis inside them during sexual congress. You probably already fantasise about exactly that while you’re hunched over your pillow, yes? Perhaps imagining that your pillow is a partner—Eos, for instance, from your stories, whom you are thrusting yourself into?”\n\nSasha hesitantly nodded. \n\n“Using your hand can make it much easier to control, once you get the hang of it. And it feels much better if you add some lubricant. There is some olive oil in the pantry downstairs I believe.”\n\nSasha squirmed. His penis released a lazy pulse of precum into his trousers, making a wet stain at the peak of his arousal. \n\nIlyas chuckled and motioned to the straining tent. “Though, if you are already in such a state, the clear fluid you create combined with some saliva can work just as well, in a pinch. I shall leave you to… learn about it, shall I?”\n\nIlyas stood, and returned the rolled up sheaf of papers to Sasha’s desk. The front of the older marten’s trousers were sharply distended, and he bore his own wet spot. Sasha stared at it. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for his father to [i]show [/i]him how to use his hand… by doing it to him. Demonstrating his own technique to him. His mind fogged with the thought of his father, stoic and gruff, standing behind him with that stiff rod pushed against the side of his tail, his hand moving up and down along his…\n\n“Sasha?”\n\nSasha started. Almost without realising it, he had stood and was advancing on his father. He drew back and covered himself with his hands. \n\n“You poor creature. Please, release some of that tension. And don’t hold it in!”\n\nIlyas withdrew, and left Sasha to his own devices. Sasha wanted to ask him to stay. To help. To teach him. But the words died on his lips. \n\nAs the door swung shut behind Ilyas, Sasha grappled with his clothing. He fumbled the buttons of his trousers open and shucked them hurriedly down his thighs. A thick stringy rope of slick fluid webbed down with them, and he sat his bare arse on his wooden writing chair. His cock stared up at him angrily, its head half-glistening with wetness. \n\nHurriedly, before the idea could leave his mind, Sasha fumbled for a sheet of paper and a quill, and hastily scrawled;\n\n \n\n[i]Titus and Eos’ Father discovers the fiblings engaged in their Forbyddenne Lust. They are afeared of his re-action, to fuch a debauch as theirs. Yet their Father… [Philocrates? Euphorion? Chysion? The latter may mean ‘ejaculation’] rather than expressing his Dystaste or Rage at their Synneful writhing, taketh it upon himself to teach them all the better, and begins by teaching his Son Titus and his Daughter Eos the Pleasures of Titus’ own Flesh by ftanding behind him, with his own Rod ftiff and exposed pressing to his Son’s Arse, and moving his Hand along his Son’s ftiff prick until he fpills of his Semen and offers it not only to Kasdall but to Eos, his Semen fplashing onto her Tits[/i]\n\n[i] [/i]\n\nSasha groaned hornily at the image he conjured in his mind, inserting Ilyas into his debauched fantasies for the first time. He was surprised how much that turned him on. His balls ached and twitched, hanging heavily between his spread thighs with a thick rope of clear, sticky fluid dangling from the head of his almost painfully erect cock. \n\nHe closed his eyes and tilted his head back over the backrest of his chair. It was easier to imagine it was Ilyas’ hand on his cock that way. And easier to imagine Svarina beneath his desk, her hot breath on his balls, her hand between her thighs…\n\nSasha curled his hand around his penis and slid his grip loosely up and down over it. The taut skin of his shaft, circumcised as he was, did not have much movement in it, and his grip slipped and caught on the skin. He squeezed harder, and moved the skin up and down to the extent he could. That felt better. But it also felt rough and almost painful. Then he remembered what Ilyas had said about lubrication. He was drooling large amounts of that clear, slippery fluid, and he swiped up a thick drool of it on his palm. Then he surrounded his glans with it, smearing it around the flesh and the skin behind it. His hand slid easily over it then, and Sasha gave a guttural, chittering moan at the rush of pleasure it caused almost instantly. \n\nMessily, hastily, he spat on both of his palms and wrapped both of his hands around his aching rod. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, still—his technique was untested and the only way he truly knew how to bring himself sexual pleasure was in the rhythmic grinding of his penis into his mattress or pillow. But there were times when he would put his hands beneath his pillow, and fold it around himself to thrust into something that surrounded his rod. Awkwardly, he held his hands open-palmed alongside his penis, and slid them up and down. It felt nice, but it didn’t set him alight. Frustratedly, he palmed over his slickened glans roughly and his breath caught in his throat. His hips jolted, and he instinctively curled his fist around his glans. His hips moved of their own accord it seemed, driving his urgently stiff prick into his palm. He gripped his shaft with the other hand and twisted his hands, as though his cock were a bottle he was trying to uncork, and was rewarded by a steady flow of the clear slickness. His balls tingled and his abdomen clenched and trembled. He hurriedly let go of himself and watched his cock pulse and twitch. It felt like he was desperate to piss when he rubbed it like that.\n\n[i]…[/i] [i]attempting to cause your hand to emulate a partner’s vagina or… other body part, in a way that might feel like it would if you were thrusting your penis inside them during sexual congress…[/i]\n\nIlyas words came back to him. \n\nHis hands were emulating something he had never felt, how should he know he was doing it correctly?\n\nHis penis glistened with wetness and there were little spiderwebs of stringy wetness in the dense fur around its base. He clenched his inner muscles and pushed, then clenched again. A squirt of the clear fluid, tainted with urine, trickled down his aching shaft into the nest of fur at its root. \n\n“Svarina’s vagina…” he mumbled hornily to himself, clamping his eyes shut and continuing to masturbate. \n\nHe gripped his cock in both hands, one over the other, and moved both hands up and down along it, a motion he imagined might be how a vagina would feel. Sliding down over him and back up again, slick and wet and warm. Sasha grunted and gurgled and hunched over himself. \n\nThat feeling returned almost instantly; the feeling of desperately needing to urinate. He pushed again, and forced a heavy squirt of piss through his fist, splattered messily by his fingers. His body convulsed, and he did not stop his rubbing. It was the most intense thing he’d ever felt.\n\nBut it wasn’t a nebulous fantasy of Svarina’s vagina that made him ejaculate. \n\nAt the last moment, as the stinging, pleasurable burn of semen rose up along his cock in the seconds before it spilled from him, he was imagining Ilyas on his knees in front of him, his mouth on his son’s cock, his own penis ejaculating across the floorboards under his writing desk. \n\nSasha yelped and released a primal chitter, and yanked his hands instinctively away from his rod. A thick, gooey rivulet of semen oozed from it to drip onto the floor. He clenched hard, fighting his instinct to force it not to spill, and then forcibly released the inner muscle he held so tightly shut. Immediately, a powerful blast of semen launched high over his head, then another onto his chest. His legs tensed and convulsed, and entirely unbidden he tipped backwards and his chair fell out from underneath him, sending the ejaculating marten sprawling onto his back on the floor with a loud thud, semen splattering messily all over his torso from his cock.\n\nHe laid there in a daze for a long minute. \n\nThen his door opened, and Ilyas came rushing in. \n\n“Sasha! Are you alright, I heard that bang, what h—oh by Arahan’s teeth.”\n\nIlyas burst out laughing, and in the heady rush of afterglow, so did Sasha. \n\n“I’m glad to see that worked, then!” Ilyas managed after a minute, brushing tears of mirth from his cheeks. \n\n[center]*[/center]"
}

{
  "description": "As Sasha settles in at home, Olkvar societal expectations begin to rear their heads - even as Sasha finds his niche and starts to draw closer to his poet and actor friends, Ruslan and Svetla. The Dosvakny'a is a pre-marital contract of monogamy, which is an expectation of young Olkvars prior to marriage. But Sasha cannot imagine being happy in such a scenario - when the subject of his deepest and most intense desire is his own sister, Svarina. \n\nBut a solution may be at hand...\n\nAlso... Sasha learns to crank his hog properly, finally. Thanks, Dad!"
}

{
  "writing": "[center]The Incestuous Vices of Sasha Tatlavica[/center]\n\n[center]Bruno Hirschkoff[/center]\n[center]© February 2025[/center]\n\n[i]This is a work of erotic fiction for discerning adults only.[/i]\n\n[i]All characters and settings are fictional. The world of Asantrea and all of its concepts, locations, characters and associated artwork, literature, and other material is the sole creation of the Author and remains their intellectual property. [/i]\n\n[i]This work is not for commercial publication or distribution without the Author’s written consent.[/i]\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n[center]Chapter 3[/center]\n[center]The [i]Dosvakny’a[/i]\n\n1782 Arahan Domini\nArhanifell, Olkvarskali Oblast, Ithenor[/center]\n\n[center] *[/center]\n\nSasha had been home from the [i]Vospitanye [/i]for a little over a month. After the incident with his father, Sasha had become a little more discreet in his hedonistic wallowing. Finding out about [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]had been an unexpected boon to him, and was serving as an outlet for many of the young marten’s repressed thoughts and feelings. He no longer felt alone, a solitary writer in a society that relegated such minds to the periphery of the collective. [i]Tails of Whimsy, [/i]it turned out, was the name given to the artists’ collective itself, not a location. Meetings moved around, from bar to bar, tavern to tavern, each one brought to life by the influx of creative minds with their liberated social inhibitions and pursuit of delights of mind, body and culture. Sasha at first remained in the shadow of Ruslan and Svetla, but within a few weeks of attending the regular meetings, he’d become an accepted part of the collective. \n\nThey opened his eyes in ways he never thought possible. Sasha had no idea that so much music, laughter, poetry, stagecraft or art could exist in a city like Arhanifell. He simply didn’t know what he didn’t know, and was enchanted by [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]to the point of wanting it never to end.\n\nMeanwhile, at home, Ilyas began to ask more and more often of Sasha whether he had found a suitable [i]Dosvakny. [/i]He even introduced his son to Gotbedin, a colleague of Reyhani’s from the university’s academic board. He had a daughter who would soon graduate the [i]Vospitanye, [/i]he said, and would need to find a [i]Dosvakny. [/i]His father spoke highly of Sasha’s ambitions to go into academia, of his great intellect and kindness. Sasha was deeply intimidated by Gotbedin. He was a portly and severe fellow, who seemed to use his rotundity to invade one’s personal space and exhaled noisily through his nose where others might have politely laughed. But what bothered Sasha the most was the way Ilyas flattered him. It was so unlike his father, and the things he said to Gotbedin about Sasha were patently false, in some cases. He was not, as his father suggested, naturally skilled in the natural sciences, nor possessed of any great passion for the discipline of the scientific method. \n\nAfter Gotbedin had left their home, Sasha expressed as much to Ilyas. \n\n“I know, Sasha… but you need to find someone. Gotbedin is a curmudgeonly sod, but he’s extremely well connected and [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with someone close to him will open many doors for you, both personally and professionally,” Ilyas reasoned. \n\n“But you know as well as I do that I am useless with most science,” Sasha protested. “He’ll find out quickly that I’m not who you say I am.”\n\nIlyas did not have a good answer for that; Sasha could tell he was holding back from telling Sasha he should just study harder, or spend less time immersed in his silly fantasies of being a writer to devote more time to learning the sciences he claimed not to love. But to his credit, he did not say as much, and seemed genuinely to be trying to help Sasha find his place. \n\nStill, Ilyas’ actions perturbed Sasha, and he rankled at the thought that he would have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t just to satisfy the social norms of his society. Meeting Ruslan and Svetla and becoming involved in the city’s underground creative scene seemed to have highlighted that disconnect, in Sasha’s mind.\n\nSasha briefly considered asking if Ruslan or Svetla would agree to [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with him, and for a short time he thought it would be a good option. But the more he thought about it, the less suitable they seemed. Besides, he reasoned, neither Ruslan nor Svetla were interested in the stuffy and staid institutions of respectable Olkvar society, and their ‘unclean’ relationship told him straight away that they would not respect the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]either. Then there was the thought of having to introduce them to his family. They were actors. In the eyes of most Olkvars, they were dreamers, layabouts and ne’er-do-wells. And particularly for the Tatlavicas with their deep connections to the city’s academic elite, such a pairing would not be favourably regarded. And the last thing Sasha wanted was for his [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]to do more damage than if he remained single and—supposedly—chaste.\n\nSvarina still stood in Sasha’s mind as his preferred partner. It would be perfect, he thought—he would not have to performatively appease another family by upholding any expectation of pursuing a career in science, and if she agreed… Sasha’s heart hammered in his chest at the mere thought that she might. For her to agree to be with him in that context… it would imply, to him, that she felt the same about him as he did for her. \n\nAll he needed to do was find an opportunity to bring it up in conversation, and to ask her. But even for an author, he was struggling to find the words.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nIt was late evening. After a family meal to which Ma∂ina had invited her [i]Dosvakny, [/i]Reyhani and Ilyas retired to bed early. Ma∂ina and her partner remained for another hour before they too departed, leaving Svarina and Sasha alone together. They sat in front of the fire in the mezzanine lounge, with their backs to the ornate balustrade that ran around the inner edge of the space. The golden flicker of the fire was the only light, and cast long shadows around the space which danced along the bookshelves behind two wing-back leather armchairs, and blanketed the entrance foyer and staircase below in darkness. \n\n“It has been some time since we spoke alone,” Svarina said. “How are you settling in, little brother? The first month after leaving the [i]Vospitanye [/i]was… tumultuous, for me.”\n\nSasha gave her a thin smile and gathered his evening gown about himself. “Father speaks endlessly of the [i]Dosvakny’a[/i],” he said, slouching into his armchair opposite Svarina.\n\nIlyas, despite his early reassurances, was heaping pressure on Sasha to take the next step towards adulthood. Svarina gave her brother a sultry smile and slouched down to mirror his position. It was an immodest position for a woman, and Sasha felt his ears burning. All of his fantasies of her clamoured in his mind, and he felt as if she could read him like a book. The thought of asking her to be his [i]Dosvakny[/i] was on the tip of his tongue. \n\n“Yes, he is anxious for you to pair up with someone with connections, like Ma∂ina did. He only wants the best for you, you know. He sees how happy Ma∂ina is, and remembers how miserable Elvira was when she was forced to break with her [i]Dosvakny [/i]to marry a man. Elvira was always drawn to other women, you know.”\n\n“How would you know?” Sasha jibed. “You and I both were at Orya Yulinka for the whole time that was happening!”\n\n“Mother tells me things, you know. Women talk differently among themselves than they do when men are around. I am sure men are the same way.”\n\n“Men talk boorishly of the size of their rods,” Sasha said flatly. “And which women… or men… they wish to bury them into. At least, that was the topic of conversation in the final year at the [i]Vospitanye.[/i]”\n\nSvarina made a chittering noise of disgust. “Oh, the utter [i]cretins,[/i]” she said. \n\nSasha nodded affirmation. “Yes… it always felt… uncomfortable, to be around them for those conversations. As if those they coveted were little more than a conquest. They do not see the whole person, and for that they miss out on so much of the rapture of exploration, of mutual enjoyment of the physical.”\n\n“You’re a curious man, Sasha Tatlavica. You’re not like any other man I have ever known. As you say, most are boorish louts beneath the veneer of social propriety, but you are… softer than they are, gentler. Fascinated with people and their proclivities. Like a poet.”\n\nShe knew the word would get a reaction from him, and she was right. Sasha straightened in his chair and subtly raised his chin. \n\n“I am… glad that I come across as such, to you, dear sister,” he said. \n\n“Thought you’d appreciate that,” she smirked. “I should like to hear about that writers’ group you attend, sometime. I cannot imagine it being even faintly interesting, but you seem to have become fascinated by it.”\n\nSasha squirmed slightly in his armchair. \n\n“It is… so incredibly colourful, Svarina. Moreso than I feel I can express. There are more than just authors of novels; there are poets, musicians, actors, painters, sculptors, philosophers, performers of all kinds… it is a little like the colour and vivacity of a circus, the sort of place where the cast-offs of any number of cities and towns collect and share their ideas. It makes everything else seem dull and grey, by comparison.”\n\n“Do they…” Svarina began, and then paused. \n\n“What?”\n\n“Is there a lot of sexual congress?”\n\nSasha spluttered. \n\n“What? Is it such a terrible thing to ask?” Svarina said indignantly. “You’ve shown me some of the things you write, it [i]drips [/i]with sex, Sasha. I only wonder if that comes from your circus of actors and poets, since they so clearly exist outside of our social hierarchy.”\n\n“I… suppose there must be some amount of it happening, although I’ve not paid it all that much attention,” Sasha said carefully. “My writing is far from the most erotic I’ve seen.”\n\n“You are a shockingly bad liar, Sasha Tatlavica,” Svarina laughed. “I should wonder that it is like an orgy of desire, that you attend every week to gain inspiration and satiate your curiosities.”\n\nShe was gazing at him, her eyes glinting in the firelight and her hands steepled in front of her muzzle, slouched immodestly in her armchair with the soft cloth of her evening gown laid over the subtle curves of her body like the ephemeral garments the ancients carved from marble to appear softer than silk. He swallowed thickly.\n\nThere was a moment of silence. He would never get a better chance, he fancied. Sasha took a deep breath and held it, then exhaled. Then another. Slowly, the words coalesced in his mind, and he forced his voice to be calm and level; “Svarina, I never asked and you’ve never said… are you [i]Dosvakny’y[/i] with anyone?”\n\nShe gave him another of those little half-smiles she always gave him. The type of smile that hinted that she could read his mind, and see his most depraved thoughts writ large across his face.\n\n“Yes, little brother, I am taken. A little after the end of my first month home, my contract began. I… I am sorry, I can tell this was not what you wanted to hear. You were going to ask me, weren’t you?”\n\nSasha’s heart sank like a stone. Svarina was taken. She was off limits to him. The realisation did not hit him like a hammer blow, but welled up from within him like the destructive fire of a volcano, burning all it passed with languid and terrible slowness. He swallowed thickly and stared into the fire. Then something occurred to him.\n\n“With whom?” he asked. “I have seen you leave the house during the day, but you are always back in the evenings. Do you only visit them during the day? And never have them over?”\n\n“Oh, he lives here.”\n\nSasha’s brain took a solid ten seconds to process the meaning of his sister’s off-handed comment. He felt as if he was clinging to a Sarg galleon in a storm. \n\n“Wait. You… you are [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with [i]Father?!”[/i]\n\n“Yes! Did he not mention? He was Singri∂’s, as well.”\n\n“N-no, he did not mention!”\n\nSasha was shocked. Svarina was [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with their father. Images pulsed and throbbed through his mind of what that meant, in practice, when they were alone together. He struggled to imagine his stoic father being comfortable teaching anyone about the sorts of things a [i]Dosvakny [/i]should, let alone his own daughter… not to mention [i]two [/i]of his daughters.\n\n“Are you alright there, little brother?” Svarina smirked. “You seem… piqued.”\n\nSasha hurriedly gathered the folds of his gown into his lap. Svarina noticed, and fixed him with a look that melted the ice in his heart as easily as the volcano sweeps away a field of grain.\n\n“I… my apologies, that was… quite a shock. He is very discreet about it, I have never heard… I mean… seen… or… thought…” Sasha stumbled over his words. \n\nSvarina raised a hand and curled her fingers to observe her manicured claws with a sort of aloof smugness. \n\n“What’s… what’s it like?” Sasha managed after a moment of awkward silence. \n\n“What, being [i]Dosvakny’y [/i]with one’s own father?”\n\nSasha nodded. \n\n“You little pervert,” Svarina chuckled. “It’s… Well, it’s alright, I suppose. We talk a lot. It’s very open. He tells me stories of when he was our age, exploring and discovering things with his [i]Dosvakny. [/i]She was his age, and they truly loved one another, as he said on your first night here.”\n\n“Do you… uhm…” Sasha began. [i]Fuck? [/i]his mind concluded. \n\nSvarina lifted her gaze to stare at him. He once again felt that she was reading his thoughts. He throbbed in his clothing. But instead of chastising him or calling him a pervert, she gave a wistful sigh.\n\n“No. He never… he’s got a strong moral compass, or at least has repressed that part of himself that deep down wants to,” she sighed. “He can speak very openly in some moments, but in others he’s as uptight as a priest. I’ve learned that those are the moments when he’s fighting something back. He… is very good at ignoring certain things. Treating them with utter detachment and nonchalance, like he’s discussing the weather or advising me on how to calculate some physical constant or other, not…” \n\n“Not…?” Sasha prompted. \n\nSvarina stared into the fire for a long moment and then chittered in frustration, squeezing her thighs together tightly. “Not… instructing me on how to give pleasure to a man with my mouth with his fingers standing in for… for… or how to trim the fur… down there… so that I look younger… apparently men like that. I’ll never quite understand it. Surely men want a [i]woman, [/i]not a girl, yes? But no, father says, the absence of the adult fur there allows… ugh. I sometimes wish he would be less uptight and stuck to his moral virtues, and just [i]fuck me,” [/i]she said breathily. “Show me what it is to be taken by a man. He… he ignores the signs I give him, no matter how… ahh… frank I am, or how forward. I am often so turned on it [i]aches.”[/i]\n\nSasha’s breath was frozen in his throat, even as the furnace of Bezar himself roared in his loins. Svarina was still gazing into the flickering fire, not at him, as if somehow the flames would be her confidant, her shield and keep her secret. Sasha, driven by his surging arousal, and perhaps a little immaturely, allowed the folds of his gown to fall to his hips once again, such that if she were to look over she would see the straining ridge of his erection under his clothes. He stared at her hungrily. He saw her thighs tense and release rhythmically a couple of times, and her lips parted just a touch. Her nipples were erect within her gown, and he could see the little peaks they cast in the cloth by the flickering firelight. Sasha ached to taste her breath, to feel the warm softness of her lips pressed to his, and the hunger in her touch as she pushed her hand down the front of his…\n\n“I’m sorry, Sasha, that was… a lot… I should not have shared that mu… Are you quite alright there, Sasha?”\n\nShe was staring at him suddenly, not into the fire. Sasha froze. He was breathing rapidly, and calmed himself with some effort. She was not staring at his face. Her tongue flicked momentarily past her upper lip, and she pressed her hand into her groin for a brief moment, before standing. \n\n“I should… retire, before my resolve not to hike my skirt and sit on that dissipates entirely. Put it away, Sasha.”\n\nSasha covered his tented pants with his gown again. Svarina stepped toward him and leaned in to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. With her, she brought a waft of a scent so intimate, so warm and enticing that Sasha immediately knew precisely what it was… although it was a thing he had never smelt before. His cock burned with desire in his pants, throbbing and drooling into the cloth, and he pressed his hand onto it firmly, breathing deeply of the scent of his sister’s arousal.\n\n“Good boy,” she purred, and then chuckled against his ear, lingering there. Her hand clenched and unclenched, and she transferred her gaze into his lap again. Then she plucked his hand away from it, and his gown fell open again. She exhaled shakily. “Must be hard to ignore that when it gets like that. Father’s is similarly sized… seems you take after him.”\n\nThen she kissed the corner of his mouth delicately, straightened, stretched luxuriantly, turned her back and slunk off up the stairs. He stayed there in a state of shock and painfully intense arousal, holding her scent in his lungs until he saw stars in the back of his eyes and was forced to take a fresh breath.\n\nSvarina knew [i]exactly [/i]what she’d been doing to him, by revealing such an intimacy, Sasha fancied. Their shared moment of arousal smouldered in Sasha’s mind for the remainder of the evening, while he brought himself to the burning, teetering edge of climax again and again in the privacy of his room, imagining her doing just the same… yet it was not that thought specifically that finally sent Sasha into convulsions of sticky ecstasy against his pillow. It was imagining Svarina touching herself, boldly and openly, in the presence of their stoic father. An image that was so intense that he completely abandoned any notion that spilling his seed alone was forbidden, and simply allowed it to happen.\n\nHe knew for Arahan’s truth that if she were to be so open, so bold, around him, he would be powerless to resist her temptations, [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]or no. As he drifted into sleep, he discovered that the spark of hope he held for a closer bond with his sister had not been entirely extinguished by knowing that she was taken by their father.\n\nAnd suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to his brain, Sasha knew what he had to do.\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\n“Sasha!” Ilyas greeted his son with a hug and a kiss to his forehead. \n\n“Good morning,” Sasha mumbled. \n\n“Did you sleep well?” Reyhani said, bustling him into the kitchen and furnishing him with a steaming bowl of porridge.\n\nSasha nodded and returned his mother’s hug, holding the porridge up to save it spilling into her hair.\n\n“Have you had any further thoughts about the offer from Gotbedin?” Ilyas prompted. “I and your mother are going to see him today and should like to convey your answer to him.”\n\nReyhani took the cue to leave the two men alone for that discussion, and made her way upstairs with a bowl of porridge for Svarina. \n\n“I can tell from your silence that you are reluctant… I can always find some others to introduce you to, if you do not feel that being close to Gotbedin would benefit…”\n\n“N-no,” Sasha said.\n\nIlyas stopped talking. \n\n“I… don’t know if I can, father, I…”\n\n“But Sasha, you must! Why, if you do not take a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]there are many who will assume, with no evidence whatsoever, that you are living uncleanly and sullying yourself in the fleshpots! And we all know about your writers’ group, already people are beginning to wonder about you…”\n\nSasha felt an upwelling of anger. How dare people he did not so much as know the names of whisper about his private life? What business was it of theirs?\n\n“It is not the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]itself that disturbs me, father! Rather that it seems to be all about elevating one’s status or silencing the gossipers, and not for love, or friendship, or even lust. Is not the purpose of the [i]Dosvanky’a [/i]to allow two people the opportunity to mutually explore and learn the intricacies of intimacy, the language of love and sex, without being considered sullied by society for daring to have desires before marriage?”\n\n“I…yes, of course, but…”\n\n“So how is that served by partaking of one arranged partnership before another? I… I cannot imagine it, father. But I am trapped, am I not? For if I do not accept a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]your colleagues at the university will think I am a degenerate and you by association.”\n\nIlyas maintained his silence.\n\n“So… for the sake of avoiding such accusations upon us, father… would you be my [i]Dosvakny?”[/i]\n\nIlyas stammered, and then fell into a long moment of silence, wherein he simply stared at his son. \n\n“Sasha, I don’t…”\n\n“I know about Svarina, father. And about Singri∂.”\n\nIlyas squirmed uncomfortably. \n\n“I understand,” Sasha continued with intensity. “Though I wish that you had told me. To creep around in secrecy, to hold such an important thing to yourself… What did you think, that I would accuse you of being a pervert? Svarina and I have spoken of it.”\n\n“I cannot agree to this, Sasha, not with you in such a state of anger!”\n\n“Then think on it for a day, for my mind is made up and I shan’t change it. You need not scour the academies for yet more people I do not know.”\n\nIlyas held up his hand for silence, and Sasha complied. “If I agree to this, Sasha, you must know that ours would not be a sexual relationship, beyond answering questions you may have, or offering advice to you. There would be no outlet for your… desires… with me. I am… committed to your mother, and…”\n\nSasha nodded immediately, and gave a slight smile. “Oh I know it would be… nominally chaste, father. As I said, Svarina and I spoke.”\n\nIlyas considered. “Are you certain that you want this? If you and I enter [i]Dosvakny’a, [/i]you will be prohibited from seeking the pleasures of the flesh with any other, until the arrangement is terminated. I think we both know on a level how strong your desires are. There would be no…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. \n\n“I do not need it. I have never had it before, and I have my writing, for that. I want this, father.”\n\n[i]And this will guarantee that I stay close to Svarina, [/i]Sasha thought – an idea that caused his heart to race.\n\nIlyas abruptly chuckled, and his face split into a wide grin. “Oh, that I do know. I have read a little of your work, Sasha. You are a… singularly skilled writer.”\n\nIt was Sasha’s turn to nearly turn inside out. \n\n“Don’t worry. I enjoyed what I read. We must discuss it, sometime,” Ilyas laid his arm around Sasha’s shoulders and playfully ruffled his chest through his dressing gown. “My Sasha, my [i]Dosvakny!”[/i]\n\n[center]*[/center]\n\nAfter their tense and sexually charged interaction by the fire, he and Svarina did not spend much time alone together for the following week. She barely reacted to learning that he’d entered a [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]with Ilyas, which surprised him somewhat. Sasha supposed it was probably for the best that she was keeping her distance from him; she had been very obviously aroused, as had he, and given his fantasies of her, it would have been a serious breach of etiquette for them to have gone any further than they did. In his private moments, Sasha imagined that Svarina’s aloofness was her way of keeping her own desire for him under control; that if they were to have another interaction like the one last week, she would not have the restraint to not rip off her clothes and mount him…\n\nDuring the day, Sasha wrote poetry and was beginning to dabble in stageplay as well. His fascination with the Athonian classics won him some level of quick recognition among the writers and performers at [i]Tails of Whimsy, [/i]and he began writing parts for specific actors.\n\nOf an evening, though, Sasha dedicated himself to the most perverted caprices his mind could conjure. It was more than just erotica for his own gratification; it was a compulsion. A calling. More than one of the writers to whom he had been introduced at [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]were cagey and guarded about their writing—until they learned that Sasha wrote scandalous debauchery, too. He shared some of his work with them, and they shared theirs with him. Through that, his mind was opened yet further, by people who clearly had some modicum of sexual experience that he lacked. \n\nHe felt driven to publish some of this work, to commit the hedonism that consumed his mind to paper and through it, write a commentary of the hypocrisy that seemed to so deeply underlie Olkvar society, and which gave rise to the very concept of the [i]Dosvakny’a.[/i]\n\nLittle about Sasha’s relationship to Ilyas truly changed in the first week of their declaration of [i]Dosvakny’y. [/i]Ilyas took himself off to work as usual, and while his continual prodding of Sasha to find a partner obviously ceased, for which Sasha was deeply grateful, he felt somewhat lost about what his responsibilities actually were. The [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]itself was a legal contract administered by the Arhani city authority, although its signing had been an occasion of almost no ceremony at all, attended only by Ilyas and Sasha themselves.\n\nThe main difference was that the boundaries between them no longer mattered—the veil of social stiffness was gone, as Ilyas shelved his role as Sasha’s father in favour of his role as Sasha’s [i]Dosvakny. [/i]Sasha wondered how Ilyas would divide his time among Svarina and he, and what his mother’s thoughts were on the arrangement.\n\nOne evening, Ilyas approached the doorway of Sasha’s room when he arrived home from his day’s work at the university. Sasha was, as usual, sitting at his writing desk, and was speaking lines aloud as he wrote them into his latest piece of stageplay.\n\n“Sasha?” Ilyas called.\n\nHe hung back, and waited for an answer before he walked in. Sasha chuckled. \n\n“Come in, father, I am decent and clothed.”\n\n“Good, although I suppose I need not worry about that any longer. I simply do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”\n\n“I very much doubt anything you could do, would make me uncomfortable any longer,” Sasha said. “What did you think of the poems you took to read last night?”\n\n“I liked them,” Ilyas said simply. “Although I fear that I do not have a literary mind in the slightest, so much of the hidden meaning probably escapes me. Here, I brought you more paper and ink. I did not anticipate you would go through it so fast!”\n\nSasha rose and hugged his father tightly, and took the proffered gifts. Ilyas hugged back slightly awkwardly. The older marten smelt faintly of old books, as though he’d been sitting in a library absorbing the vanillin oozing from a thousand old tomes—which, Sasha supposed, was probably exactly what he’d been doing, in a way. Sasha knew with some degree of certainty in that moment that Ilyas was probably not being entirely truthful with him about not having a literary mind. He’d already revealed that he was similarly afflicted with perversity of the mind, both through his own direct admission and through his lack of shock at the state he’d found Sasha in not long ago. \n\nSasha pulled back from the hug and fixed his father with a quizzical look, his eyes narrowed and lips drawn in a thin smile. Then he sat down on his wooden writing chair and leaned artistically on the desk.\n\n“What’s that look for?” Ilyas asked guardedly. \n\n“What’s been the favourite thing of mine that you’ve read?” \n\nIlyas hummed. “Is this a trick question?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“About your more… ahh… niche works?”\n\n“Perhaps.”\n\n“I have not read it all, but here and there I’ve caught a page or two—the adventures of Eos and Titus are… singularly enticing. I do wonder where you get such ideas from.”\n\n“From a mind which swims in the most debaucherous of sins, father. As I’m sure you’re aware.”\n\nIlyas cleared his throat. “Where are you going with this, Sasha?”\n\n“Well… you are my [i]Dosvakny, [/i]I am meant to share such things with you, am I not? About these urges and feelings that consume me?”\n\nIlyas chuckled. “You sound like your sister.”\n\nSasha’s eyelids fluttered and he exhaled with a soft hiss through his teeth. Ilyas raised an eyebrow. \n\n“What was the first thing Svarina asked you?” Sasha asked.\n\nIlyas drummed his fingers. Then he took a breath. “She wanted to see the tool that made her,” he said.\n\n“Oh, Arahan’s teeth, that’s…”\n\n“Direct.”\n\n“Mm.”\n\n“Did you show her?”\n\n“Not right away, but eventually, yes.”\n\n“Thus how she knows of your size, evidently.”\n\n[i]“What?!”[/i]\n\n“Svarina and I spoke of your [i]Dosvakny’a[/i], as I told you. At one point during our conversation, I became erect, and she mentioned that you and I appear to be similarly sized.”\n\nSasha’s openness in his admission caused his heart to flutter. Was he going too far? Admitting too much? He need not have worried. Ilyas simply laughed. \n\n“Aye, she has a certain boldness about her. But I should not be surprised to find that we are indeed very similar, being father and son.”\n\nThere was a moment of awkward silence. \n\n“You’re going to ask to see it, aren’t you?” Ilyas said. \n\n“N-no, no I’m not, it’s alright. I ahh… don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”\n\n“You won’t.”\n\n“…if it turns out that mine is larger.”\n\nIlyas snorted with laughter and playfully cuffed Sasha’s ear. Sasha laughed and hugged around his father’s waist. It was a level of openness and comfort that had never existed between the two men, and it warmed Sasha’s heart. Perhaps the [i]Dosvakny’a [/i]would be about more than just sexual tension. Perhaps its true purpose was companionship, above all else.\n\n“There is… one thing that has been worrying me, somewhat,” Sasha said eventually. \n\n“Oh?”\n\n“This little poem I’ve written… is it too… ahh… direct, do you think?”\n\nHe was intending to take the piece to [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]the following evening to present to Ruslan and Svetla, part of a small anthology of sonnets and shorter pieces he’d penned, and itself a verse of a longer piece loosely based on the Eos and Titus story. Ilyas stood behind Sasha with his hands on his shoulders to peer over his shoulder at his words. \n\n \n\n[i]As the fweeteft Nectare of that moft Forbyddenne Bloome, outwardly from her Flowed as Liqeure into mine Aychinge Soul, an Floode of the moft Voluptuous and Yndulgente Love I hath felt. O, to fpill of mine moft fecretyve whimsy amongft the Petalles of her Adoration,over-cometh by a Desyre Divyne [/i]\n\n[i] [/i]\n\n“A curious use of metaphor, Sasha,” Ilyas noted. “Is this what you wish to be known for writing? It is… subtle, but deeply erotic at the same time. It hints at the rather more intense material in your other works, but unless one had read them, one might miss that in the forest of metaphor.”\n\nSasha’s ears were burning hotly and he squirmed under his father’s scrutiny. He wondered if Ilyas knew he was writing quite directly about Svarina. Or that she was the muse for all of his romantic and erotic pieces, these days. What had been a naïve and directionless eroticism through his days at the [i]Vospitanye [/i]had found a focus, a direction and an obsession, that he felt singularly incapable of placing on anyone but her.\n\nIn the depths of his mind he was certain that Ilyas knew that—that he could read his thoughts just as he imagined Svarina could. \n\n“So… about… mastering one’s urges[i],” [/i]Sasha prompted, to try and distract Ilyas from his poetry. He turned on his chair to face his father and looked up at him.\n\n“Hmm? Oh! Ahh, yes,” Ilyas responded with a guffaw. “About that. My apologies, Sasha, you are the first young man I’ve partnered with, so it’s as new to me as it is to you, in a way.”\n\nSasha fixed him with a doubtful stare. “But, unlike Svarina and Singri∂, father, you and I are… similarly equipped, and you were my age once. How did you manage it?”\n\n“Well, I was with my [i]Dosvakny [/i]fairly quickly after leaving the [i]Vospitanye, [/i]Sasha. Less than a month. But you’re right, during that first month of freedom and relative privacy, I did little else but pleasure myself. It is a normal part of growing up, despite what the priests say about the virtues of abstaining. It’s the whole reason we allow these partnerships outside of marriage; to allow young people to express their urges and explore themselves and their partners. I ah… I do recognise that in your case though, and indeed in Svarina’s, there is an additional challenge, caused by me.”\n\n“So you are saying it is normal to feel this way?”\n\n“Yes, Sasha, it is. Self-pleasure is… it’s universal. Even the priests do it, in all likelihood. Total abstinence is a complete farce. I understand it feels overwhelming at times… I’ve walked in on you more than once already mounting your pillow or obviously aroused. But there’s nothing wrong with you for having such strong urges. Feel free to indulge them… I shall certainly not stop you, or chastise you for it.”\n\nSasha mulled over Ilyas’ response, until his father cleared his throat.\n\n“Is there… is there anything you need to ask me about? That is one of the main roles of a [i]Dosvakny, [/i]after all, to be a person who you can ask questions of, about your body, or others’ bodies, or how best to conduct yourself.”\n\n“Is it… ahh…” Sasha began. \n\n“Have no fear, Sasha. Ask me anything at all.”\n\nSasha took a deep breath. “Is it normal for uh… for semen to spill during those moments? I had thought it was something that only happened during sexual congress between partners, but for me… I cannot prevent it happening.”\n\nIlyas’ eyebrows raised and his eyes sparkled briefly. \n\n“Is that a legitimate question?”\n\n“You said I could ask you anything!” Sasha snorted indignantly.\n\n“Yes, Sasha… and I am sorry that such knowledge was not already yours! How have you been managing it?”\n\nSasha’s ears were burning, and he had an erection. Ilyas appeared to have one too, judging from the way he squirmed and plucked surreptitiously at the front of his trousers. \n\n“I… try my very hardest not to let it happen, father. I can feel when it is about to occur, and then I stop, whatever it is I’m doing, and wait for it to go away, and then continue. But sometimes, I cannot stop, and just recently I have been allowing it to happen more and more.”\n\nIlyas exhaled slowly through his teeth and regarded his son, who was clearly quite piqued even just discussing it. \n\n“You do not need to hold it in, Sasha,” he said quietly, in a slightly husky voice. “Especially if doing so is something you are forcing. Why, most men and boys spill themselves near daily with impunity; the release of semen allows mental clarity and… it feels nice, and that is the key. Self-pleasure is meant to emulate sexual congress, to the extent that it can. It is safe and you should not take literally the strictures of the church. I believe I have seen references to Kasdall in your writing, the old pagan god of lust—ejaculation in historic times was considered to be the god speaking through your body, and it was openly encouraged. Offerings to Kasdall in his shrines were… ahh… quite deliberate offerings of lust and ejaculation.”\n\nSasha nodded slowly. \n\n“Feel no guilt for it, Sasha. It is a near-universal experience, but it seems like you hold yourself to notions of abstinence that defy your strong urges.”\n\n“Do you spill yourself often?” Sasha asked.\n\nIlyas laughed. “As often as I can. Less so the older I get, but at your age… often multiple times in a day.”\n\n“How? Every time it happens, I need to wash my pillow or my clothing or my fur! You must have never slept in a dry bed, or always had semen in your pelt.”\n\nIlyas blinked. “Ahh, yes you tend to use your pillow, don’t you? Why not simply use your hand and spill it into a cloth, or into your other hand to wash away more easily?”\n\nSasha blinked several times, slowly. \n\n“How… how do you use your hand?”\n\nIlyas’ mouth opened and closed. He harrumphed and began scouting across the room for an object. His hand fell on a rolled-up sheaf of papers, tied with a red ribbon. Sasha’s writing, that he was taking to [i]Tails of Whimsy [/i]the following evening.\n\nIlyas held the papers horizontally in one hand, and wrapped his other hand in a loose fist around the cylinder. \n\n“Have you never considered this, Sasha?” he inquired. He moved his hand back and forth along the cylinder of paper, in a slow rhythm. \n\nSasha frowned. “I mean… yes, I have done that, of course, but nothing much happened and I stopped after a few moments.”\n\n“You need to give it some time, learn your technique. Doing so is quite different from one man to the next, although the premise of it is the same. You are attempting to cause your hand to emulate a partner’s vagina or… other body part, in a way that might feel like it would if you were thrusting your penis inside them during sexual congress. You probably already fantasise about exactly that while you’re hunched over your pillow, yes? Perhaps imagining that your pillow is a partner—Eos, for instance, from your stories, whom you are thrusting yourself into?”\n\nSasha hesitantly nodded. \n\n“Using your hand can make it much easier to control, once you get the hang of it. And it feels much better if you add some lubricant. There is some olive oil in the pantry downstairs I believe.”\n\nSasha squirmed. His penis released a lazy pulse of precum into his trousers, making a wet stain at the peak of his arousal. \n\nIlyas chuckled and motioned to the straining tent. “Though, if you are already in such a state, the clear fluid you create combined with some saliva can work just as well, in a pinch. I shall leave you to… learn about it, shall I?”\n\nIlyas stood, and returned the rolled up sheaf of papers to Sasha’s desk. The front of the older marten’s trousers were sharply distended, and he bore his own wet spot. Sasha stared at it. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for his father to [i]show [/i]him how to use his hand… by doing it to him. Demonstrating his own technique to him. His mind fogged with the thought of his father, stoic and gruff, standing behind him with that stiff rod pushed against the side of his tail, his hand moving up and down along his…\n\n“Sasha?”\n\nSasha started. Almost without realising it, he had stood and was advancing on his father. He drew back and covered himself with his hands. \n\n“You poor creature. Please, release some of that tension. And don’t hold it in!”\n\nIlyas withdrew, and left Sasha to his own devices. Sasha wanted to ask him to stay. To help. To teach him. But the words died on his lips. \n\nAs the door swung shut behind Ilyas, Sasha grappled with his clothing. He fumbled the buttons of his trousers open and shucked them hurriedly down his thighs. A thick stringy rope of slick fluid webbed down with them, and he sat his bare arse on his wooden writing chair. His cock stared up at him angrily, its head half-glistening with wetness. \n\nHurriedly, before the idea could leave his mind, Sasha fumbled for a sheet of paper and a quill, and hastily scrawled;\n\n \n\n[i]Titus and Eos’ Father discovers the fiblings engaged in their Forbyddenne Lust. They are afeared of his re-action, to fuch a debauch as theirs. Yet their Father… [Philocrates? Euphorion? Chysion? The latter may mean ‘ejaculation’] rather than expressing his Dystaste or Rage at their Synneful writhing, taketh it upon himself to teach them all the better, and begins by teaching his Son Titus and his Daughter Eos the Pleasures of Titus’ own Flesh by ftanding behind him, with his own Rod ftiff and exposed pressing to his Son’s Arse, and moving his Hand along his Son’s ftiff prick until he fpills of his Semen and offers it not only to Kasdall but to Eos, his Semen fplashing onto her Tits[/i]\n\n[i] [/i]\n\nSasha groaned hornily at the image he conjured in his mind, inserting Ilyas into his debauched fantasies for the first time. He was surprised how much that turned him on. His balls ached and twitched, hanging heavily between his spread thighs with a thick rope of clear, sticky fluid dangling from the head of his almost painfully erect cock. \n\nHe closed his eyes and tilted his head back over the backrest of his chair. It was easier to imagine it was Ilyas’ hand on his cock that way. And easier to imagine Svarina beneath his desk, her hot breath on his balls, her hand between her thighs…\n\nSasha curled his hand around his penis and slid his grip loosely up and down over it. The taut skin of his shaft, circumcised as he was, did not have much movement in it, and his grip slipped and caught on the skin. He squeezed harder, and moved the skin up and down to the extent he could. That felt better. But it also felt rough and almost painful. Then he remembered what Ilyas had said about lubrication. He was drooling large amounts of that clear, slippery fluid, and he swiped up a thick drool of it on his palm. Then he surrounded his glans with it, smearing it around the flesh and the skin behind it. His hand slid easily over it then, and Sasha gave a guttural, chittering moan at the rush of pleasure it caused almost instantly. \n\nMessily, hastily, he spat on both of his palms and wrapped both of his hands around his aching rod. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, still—his technique was untested and the only way he truly knew how to bring himself sexual pleasure was in the rhythmic grinding of his penis into his mattress or pillow. But there were times when he would put his hands beneath his pillow, and fold it around himself to thrust into something that surrounded his rod. Awkwardly, he held his hands open-palmed alongside his penis, and slid them up and down. It felt nice, but it didn’t set him alight. Frustratedly, he palmed over his slickened glans roughly and his breath caught in his throat. His hips jolted, and he instinctively curled his fist around his glans. His hips moved of their own accord it seemed, driving his urgently stiff prick into his palm. He gripped his shaft with the other hand and twisted his hands, as though his cock were a bottle he was trying to uncork, and was rewarded by a steady flow of the clear slickness. His balls tingled and his abdomen clenched and trembled. He hurriedly let go of himself and watched his cock pulse and twitch. It felt like he was desperate to piss when he rubbed it like that.\n\n[i]…[/i] [i]attempting to cause your hand to emulate a partner’s vagina or… other body part, in a way that might feel like it would if you were thrusting your penis inside them during sexual congress…[/i]\n\nIlyas words came back to him. \n\nHis hands were emulating something he had never felt, how should he know he was doing it correctly?\n\nHis penis glistened with wetness and there were little spiderwebs of stringy wetness in the dense fur around its base. He clenched his inner muscles and pushed, then clenched again. A squirt of the clear fluid, tainted with urine, trickled down his aching shaft into the nest of fur at its root. \n\n“Svarina’s vagina…” he mumbled hornily to himself, clamping his eyes shut and continuing to masturbate. \n\nHe gripped his cock in both hands, one over the other, and moved both hands up and down along it, a motion he imagined might be how a vagina would feel. Sliding down over him and back up again, slick and wet and warm. Sasha grunted and gurgled and hunched over himself. \n\nThat feeling returned almost instantly; the feeling of desperately needing to urinate. He pushed again, and forced a heavy squirt of piss through his fist, splattered messily by his fingers. His body convulsed, and he did not stop his rubbing. It was the most intense thing he’d ever felt.\n\nBut it wasn’t a nebulous fantasy of Svarina’s vagina that made him ejaculate. \n\nAt the last moment, as the stinging, pleasurable burn of semen rose up along his cock in the seconds before it spilled from him, he was imagining Ilyas on his knees in front of him, his mouth on his son’s cock, his own penis ejaculating across the floorboards under his writing desk. \n\nSasha yelped and released a primal chitter, and yanked his hands instinctively away from his rod. A thick, gooey rivulet of semen oozed from it to drip onto the floor. He clenched hard, fighting his instinct to force it not to spill, and then forcibly released the inner muscle he held so tightly shut. Immediately, a powerful blast of semen launched high over his head, then another onto his chest. His legs tensed and convulsed, and entirely unbidden he tipped backwards and his chair fell out from underneath him, sending the ejaculating marten sprawling onto his back on the floor with a loud thud, semen splattering messily all over his torso from his cock.\n\nHe laid there in a daze for a long minute. \n\nThen his door opened, and Ilyas came rushing in. \n\n“Sasha! Are you alright, I heard that bang, what h—oh by Arahan’s teeth.”\n\nIlyas burst out laughing, and in the heady rush of afterglow, so did Sasha. \n\n“I’m glad to see that worked, then!” Ilyas managed after a minute, brushing tears of mirth from his cheeks. \n\n[center]*[/center]"
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