Briganti Is Rescued

Brigantī is rescued

Quinn saves Brigantī

Please accept this story for the

Literotica Valentine's Day Story Contest 2025

contest.

A/N - I dedicate this piece to the incredible women who hold a special place in our lives, especially in times of need. I hope you enjoy this story, which introduces a new protagonist, Brigantī. While posted in the Incest/Taboo category, the tale is unapologetically Sapphic at heart.

If this type of story isn't to your liking, I completely understand and deeply appreciate your time in stopping by.

Please note that the storyline, characters, and names are entirely fictional. Any similarities to real-life individuals or events are purely coincidental and unintentional.

A heartfelt thank you to Nicole for her invaluable edits and thoughtful suggestions. Any lingering errors are entirely my responsibility; my eyes aren't as sharp as they once were!

~~~ Chapter One ~~~

Present Day - September

My rideshare pulled into the driveway. I thanked the driver, Samara. She popped the trunk and offered to help with my bag. Samara, a stunning woman, had driven me before. I wasn't sure if she remembered me, but I couldn't forget her dark captivating eyes and the warmth of her smile. Her shiny dark black hair was pulled behind her ears and well past her shoulders. It was one of the thickest heads of hair I had ever seen on a woman. I was enamored by her beauty.

Exhausted from the flight home from Washington, D.C., I accepted her offer. We'd just wrapped an incredible two week stretch of performances at the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts. Our Master Conductor and Music Director Gianandrea, was thrilled and announced we'd regroup in two weeks to prepare for our next tour but of course we were to play and practice daily.

However, I needed to make a decision. Gianandrea approached me and three others after our last performance and asked our intentions for the next season. My contract was up after this next tour. He needed an answer if he was going to search for a replacement for me. I was professional and told him I would have an answer within the week.

I retrieved my viola and violin cases from the seat next to me, carefully stepping out of the car as Samara handed me my suitcase.

"Thank you again," I said, walking to the back of the car. She smiled and I swear I saw her wink at me before closing the trunk, getting in the car and driving away.

Rolling my rolling suitcase behind me, down the driveway and along the short sidewalk, I stopped at the front door. I felt the weight of my luggage, my instrument cases and my exhaustion fully on my shoulders. When I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I was immediately stunned when I saw Carrie sitting on the third step of the stairs. Her face was streaked with tears. I stepped inside pulling my suitcase into the foyer. I was nearly frozen in place squeezing my hands around the handles of my precious viola and violin cases.

"Carrie?" I said, my voice trembling. "No! Not again ... please!" I started crying right away.

She held up her hand to stop me. "No. Don't please. If you say anything, I won't be able to go through with this. But you deserve to hear it from me, not in a text, not from a note left behind." Her voice cracked as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

Panic clawed at my chest. "Baby," I pleaded. "I'm home for two weeks. And after the next short three week tour, I promise I'll quit!" My voice cracked as she shook her head 'no'.

"Carrie, I promise, I will not renew my contract. I'll go back to teaching and giving lessons if that's what you want."

Carrie stood; her movements were slow and deliberate. "Brig, I love you too much to ask you to give up what you love. You belong with the orchestra. I would never take that away from you."

She stepped closer and kissed my cheek. "I'm sorry, but I ... I c ... can ... I just can't." Her words were barely a whisper. "You deserve the truth. I can't do this anymore ... this life, this separation. I love you, but I'm so sorry. I love you but I am leaving you, for good this time."

Her sobs deepened as she turned pushing past me and walked out the door. I turned in shock trying to speak but couldn't. She then ran into the darkness, her heavy footsteps echoing down the sidewalk and then the driveway. I was totally helpless as I watched her disappear into the night. I heard her car start, the headlights slicing through the darkness as she drove up the driveway.

I stood there, tears blurring my vision as her taillights disappeared into the September Pittsburgh night.

I collapsed to the floor, my knees hitting hard, nearly falling onto my viola and violin. Somehow, I held on. My hands were trembling, my chest heaving with silent sobs as I fumbled for my purse. I yanked it open, my fingers clawing through it until I found my phone. My vision blurred with tears as I unlocked the screen.

I pressed the voice activation icon. "Call Shan" I choked out, my voice a raw, broken whisper.

"Calling Shan" the automated voice replied.

The first ring felt like a lifetime. The second ring was agony. The third broke me.

"Hi, you've reached Shannon, I can't take your call right now, and I am out enjoying life. Leave me a message."

"No!" I screamed, the word ripping out of my throat as I dropped the phone to the floor. But I wasn't done. I grabbed it again with shaking hands. "Call Peter." I sobbed desperately, barely able to form the words.

"Calling Peter."

The moment he picked up, I shattered. "Pete!" My voice cracked, and the floodgates opened. "Peter?" I cried, gasping between sobs. "I need Shannon. Please, I need my big sister. Please!" My voice broke into a pitiful wail.

Peter's response was calm but hesitant. "Brig, Shannon's away. She's in Tempe with Jessie this week."

His words felt distant, like static in my ears. I couldn't make sense of them. All I heard was that she wasn't there; my sister wasn't there.

I sobbed harder, choking on the words I couldn't speak. My tears poured freely, hot streaks down my face as my entire body trembled.

"Brig? Are you okay?" Peter's voice was laced with worry, but I couldn't bear to hear it.

I ended the call, letting the phone slip from my hands. I sat there for a moment, staring at nothing, drowning in the deafening silence. Then, as if on autopilot, I stood and closed the front door. My body felt heavy, weighed down by the ache in my chest.

With trembling hands, I picked up my viola and violin from where they had laid on the floor. These were my babies, my lifeline and yet even they felt like a burden. I carried them to the music room and placed them gently on their stands, running my fingers over the smooth cases before I walked away.

In the living room, I collapsed onto the couch. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I let myself break, crying so hard it felt like my chest would split open. The emptiness, the loneliness, swallowed me whole, and all I could do was drown in it.

~~~~~

Now please allow me to share with you a few important details. My name is Brigantī. My mother and father, God rest their souls, felt it would be suitable and rightfully Irish to name me Brigantī. Brigantī is the Proto-Celtic term for Brighid, or Brigid. The name Brigantī means "The High One", cognate with the name of the ancient British goddess Brigantia (goddess) In Irish mythology, Brigantī was the daughter of Dagda and the goddess of fire, poetry, and wisdom.

I was conceived from a fiery night of drunken passion which wasn't expected at all to produce a child and since my mother wasn't supposed to conceive, I was a "medically not supposed to happen" baby, Brigantī fit me perfectly.

Don't tease Mother Nature; she will get even with you.

So, an extremely important fact is that there are sixteen years between my only sibling, Shannon and me. Shannon was conceived while our parents were still very young and dating. Mom was twenty-two when Shannon was born and was thirty-eight when I was born. Shannon was entering her sophomore year of high school when I came home from the hospital. Let me tell you what a blast that was in her life. 🤷🏼‍♀️

I grew up as if I was an only child. When I turned three years old, Shannon left home for Duquesne University of the Holy Ghost in the big city of Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh was two hours to our west away from our little town of Leamersville. That early fall day when Shannon left, I never truly cried more tears ever in my life. I was going to miss my big sister.

Shannon dreamed of saving the world in her career choice as a Pharmacist. While at Duquesne, she met and fell deeply in love with Peter. Shannon and Peter were married just as soon as he graduated from Duquesne. Peter, a finance major, was heading to the large bank in Pittsburgh and Shannon was staying at Duquesne heading into the last years of her Pharm D. Program.

I was the prettiest seven year old Maid of Honor ever! Well, her friend Miranda was the Maid of Honor. I was a bridesmaid but they all made me feel so very special.

In my early years of school, I caught three levels of hell; no one could pronounce my name. Seriously? Brigantī isn't that hard to pronounce. So I made the decision as I made my way to the seventh grade, junior high school, I used the name Bridget for the public, at home and in private I remained, Brigantī or Brig.

Due to a horrific diagnosis of ALS, my mother bedridden by the time I turned ten. The ALS crippled her and had taken all of her motor skills and true brain activity. Father was forced to retire and care for her constantly.

All of us, my father, Shannon and me, did the best we could having our mother attend the special life events but there was always a sadness which surrounded them. We knew and were well prepared that mother wouldn't live much longer. As a little girl, I was ready to bid my mother goodbye as this crippling disease took her from us.

Sadly my mother wouldn't live to see her sixtieth birthday. It was weeks after my thirteenth birthday when our mother passed away. When I entered high school and turned fourteen, I realized how much I would need my older and wiser sister.

And to make matters even worse, when I moved to college my father died weeks after my nineteenth birthday. I say he died of a broken and lonely heart. I moved away as well, attending Edinboro University in northwest Pennsylvania chasing my dream of a serious music career.

As a musician, I have the fortunes of the Goddesses; I have become a skilled musician playing several instruments but more about that later.

The last item of importance is the reason Peter and Shannon married early or quickly was Quinn. I was an Aunt at the age of eight. Five years later Jessie arrived, sharing my thirteenth birthday celebration. Shannon and Peter had a wonderful family by the time they were thirty and I was just seventeen.

~~~~~

Now, there's something truly special about my sister Shannon, her husband Peter, and their two daughters, Jessie and Quinn. They all have this sense and an uncanny ability to know when I needed my big sister. It's as if at times, they could read my mind and anticipate exactly when I was most in need.

The first time I truly needed Shannon was when Mother Nature decided to introduce me to my menstrual cycle or so I thought at the time. Unfortunately, my mother wasn't in a stable enough physical state to help me navigate such a moment, and my father, clearly out of his depth, suggested I call my sister, Shannon.

I sent her a text, and she immediately called back. This was my first real cry for help, and she answered without hesitation. Shannon had tried to prepare me during her weekend visits home, explaining what to expect and how to manage. But when it finally happened, it hit me hard, literally. My OB/GYN would later explain that while some women have light or moderate cycles, I wasn't so lucky. I'd drawn the short straw, cursed with debilitating periods.

Shannon became my lifesaver. With my father's permission, she joined me on three-way calls with the doctor and helped arrange my care. Since my dad was preoccupied with my mom's struggles, Shannon took charge, advocating for me and ensuring I got the right oral medication to manage the worst of it.

The second time I needed Shannon was when I was in college. I called in a panic from the local Emergency Room after a drunk driver hit me while at an intersection and totaled my car. Though I escaped with only minor injuries, I was shaken to my core. Without missing a beat, Shannon and Peter packed up their two kids and drove two hours north from Pittsburgh to my college campus to meet me in the emergency room. They stayed until they were sure I was okay and safely settled back in my dorm.

Another time Shannon came to my rescue was when I was pursuing my master's in music at Shannon's alma mater, Duquesne University. That's when I met Annalise. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, tall, almost six feet, with striking Nordic blonde hair. From the moment we met, I was captivated. We dated for eighteen months, and I was completely smitten.

But as graduation approached, my seemingly perfect relationship fell apart. Annalise blindsided me, announcing she was leaving me, for Laura.

"Laura?" I demanded in disbelief. "Who is Laura?"

Laura, as it turned out, was someone Annalise had dated during undergrad. The two were planning to move to Austin, Texas, to start their new life together. I was heartbroken, furious, and utterly lost. Shannon rescued me, hugging me through weeks of stress and the tears that accompany a broken heart.

~~~~~

Present day - September

This time when I called Peter and shared that Shannon was out of town, I collapsed on the couch crying not knowing what to do. Yet Peter and my dearest big sister Shannon did know what to do.

Me? I lay on the couch and cried in a haze of anger and despair. That was until my phone rang a very specific and selective ringtone.

🎶🎶 Sisters, sisters. There were never such devoted sisters. Never had to have a chaperon, no sir 🎶🎶

It pulled me from my daze and semi-sleeping tearful state. I didn't need to look at the screen. I knew it was Shannon.

"Shann!" I cried harder. "She left me and this time she has left for good." I bawled my eyes out.

"Brig, baby sister. I am sorry but I am in Arizona. Honey, I am with Jessie. It's our week away."

"I give up Shan, I suck at love and I will never love again." I cried even harder as I knew my life was over. "I am thirty-two and I am going to be lonely for the rest of my life." I cried harder.

"Brigantī!" I heard Shannon scream at me. I just couldn't listen anymore. I ended the call. I wasn't in the mood for her to scream at me.

Then my phone rang again. 🎶🎶🎶 Sisters, sisters ...🎶🎶🎶

"Brigantī!" Shann spoke. "Don't hang up on me when I am trying to help you dear." Her voice was calming and comforting as is the normal for her.

"I had Jessie text Quinn; she is on her way over. I am coming home in four days and I will come see you."

I slowed my tears. "Okay Shan I am sorry, I love you Shan I would never be alive without you." I slobbered and mumbled even more.

"Brig, I love you now, go shower and I will have Quinn come and stay with you tonight."

Shannon came to my rescue again as she always had. But this time instead of Shannon coming to my side she was sending her twenty-four year old daughter. Little did I know but at thirty-two, I would find myself leaning on my young niece, who somehow managed to bring me back to myself. Shannon had always been my rock, but in that moment, Quinn became my unexpected hero.

She disconnected the call. I got a text seconds later. It was Quinn.

'Hey Auntie Brig I will be there soon. Do you have wine, munchies, and chocolate?'

I laughed, snorted, and cried all at the same time while I was trying to reply to her.

'I have plenty of wine and of course I have chocolate. I am going to shower, you know where the key is'

'K C U soon ❤ ️🖤'

I stumbled into the kitchen, fumbling for the wine refrigerator. My hand found the handle, and I pulled out a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. With a mechanical precision, I opened it and poured the wine into a decanter, the rich red liquid pooling perfectly. Once done, I slid the decanter back into the refrigerator, turned and headed toward the stairs.

At the base of the staircase, I grabbed my luggage. The weight of it pressed into my hand as I climbed each step heavier than the last. Reaching the top, I turned left down the hall and left again into what used to be our bedroom. But the moment I stepped inside, I felt it, this time was different.

I froze, staring at the gaping emptiness of her closet. Every hanger was bare, every shelf vacant. The sight of this punched me in the gut, and nausea clawed its way up my throat. This wasn't like the other times. She hadn't just left, she'd taken herself from this space, erased her presence.

I doubled over, a scream tearing from my throat as I collapsed onto the bed. My chest heaved as the tears came, uncontrollable and raw. Instinctively, I reached for her pillow, seeking comfort in her scent but even that was gone as well. She had thought of everything this time. The sheets were fresh, stripped of her familiar shampoo and perfume.

The loss hit me all over again, sharper this time, and I cried until there was nothing left but the aching hollow she had left behind.

The woman I loved for the last three years had disappeared fully from my life, Carrie was gone.

~~~~~

I woke up and felt a gentle hand rest on my shoulder, followed by the soft dip of the mattress. Quinn wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close as the tears which had subsided when I fell asleep broke free again. I turned into her embrace, clutching her tightly, my sobs muffled against her chest as my tears soaked into her t-shirt.

"Auntie Brig," she murmured, her tone light but filled with warmth. "We need to get you up. Mom says you should shower, and... she's right. You really need a shower."

I managed a faint groan, but before I could protest further, I felt her fingers brush against my sides. Then came the dastardly game my sister had taught her and Jessie all those years ago; how to tickle me.

"Stop! Stop!" I gasped through bursts of laughter, my tears still flowing.

But she didn't let up.

"Not a chance! Not until I find Auntie Brig's beautiful smile. Where is she? Where's my fun Auntie Brig?" Her laughter filled the room as she tickled me relentlessly, determined to bring some lightness to my heavy heart.

"Stop!" I squealed, trying to push her hands away.

"Not good enough! Where is she? Where's my fun Aunt?" she teased, doubling down on her mission.

"I surrender!" I cried, laughter spilling out despite myself. "Your old, tired Aunt gives up! Just stop before I pee myself!"

Finally, she relented, collapsing onto the bed beside me as we both caught our breath. I turned to her and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her like a lifeline, as if letting go would send me adrift.

Quinn hugged me back just as fiercely as I was before pulling away slightly to look me in the eye. With a gentle hand, she brushed a stray tear from my cheek. "Okay," she said softly. "Here's the plan. You take a shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and come downstairs. We're having a pajama party. I'll pour us some wine. Have you eaten anything yet?"

Her kindness caught me off guard, and the tears started again, though they came quietly this time. "Why are you, your mom and dad and sister so good to me?" I whispered my voice breaking.