The Frenchman's screams filled the room. It sounded loud enough to be heard in the dungeon. Fleming thought of this, and imagined what the girls might be going through, not knowing who had been shot.
He moved carefully away from the bed, staying out of Le Boeuf's reach, until he got to the lamp table where Gerault had placed his pistol; he checked it to see if it was loaded, then kicked off the safety.
"Okay, Tommy. You can get the girls loose, now. Gerault, toss him the keys!" The Frenchman was moaning between clenched teeth, as he held the shattered knee in both hands. The artery had not been hit, for the blood was only seeping slowly between the white-knuckled fingers.
"They're already loose. I picked their locks before I went out for the gun. I figured that they could wait at the top of the stairs and trip anyone who showed up before I got back with this."
"That was taking a risk, son. But good work, anyhow. But we still want those keys." Silently, Le Boeuf moved a hand up to his shirt pocket, and pulled out a ring with one small key on it. He held it out to Tommy.
"Use mine," he said. Fleming and Tommy both had covered him with their guns as he reached for his shirt pocket. Now they relaxed.
"How about your key, Yvette?" Tommy asked. She shrugged her shoulders and nodded toward the back of the house.
"In my purse on the table back there." Her eyes were tired, but they showed no fear.
"Okay, Yvette. Now get down there on the floor and get Gerault's key from him." She looked at Tommy, and then grinned.
"There are only the two keys. They were in the houses just like the shackles and chains. Gerault thinks this place was used by the Underground or the Boche during the war." Her accent was less pronounced, now, as she spoke slowly, without excitement.
Tommy looked at his father, who nodded at him, then at Yvette.
"Let's go, Yvette." The Beretta motioned her up onto her feet, and she preceded Tommy down the hall. Fleming heard two short raps, then three more harder raps on the cellar door. He grinned to himself as he thought of Tommy planning the signals with Ann and Darla.
The women came down the hall, but Fleming motioned them back.
"Stay out of here. Keep to the back of the house, until there bastards are under chains." The girls disappeared back down the hall and he heard them using the bathroom.
When Tommy returned, he looked to his father, then at Le Boeuf, then at the moaning Gerault.
"We'll do it the easy way," Fleming said. "You go down first and wait for us. Stay clear of the bottom of the stairs, in case Le Boeuf drops his burden. Okay, pick him up and take him down there!" The silenced pistol centered on the Moroccan's belly.
He stepped over to Gerault and amid much groaning and protesting, picked up the smaller man and started down the hall. Fleming followed at a discreet distance, all the way to the cellar.
Le Boeuf put his load down by the wall where Tommy stood, pointing with the Beretta. Le Boeuf saved them trouble. He walked over to another set of shackles, then fastened them around his own ankles and wrists. There was only resignation on his face.
Tommy checked the locks on the Moroccan, then he and his father got the cuffs locked on Gerault.
"I have to have a doctor!" the Frenchman protested. "I could bleed to death! You could not have that on your conscience!"
"Couldn't I?" asked Fleming. He regarded the deflated sadist with disgust. "You're not bleeding that much. If you're smart, and hold that leg still, you'll be alive when we get you a doctor. If you move it, a piece of that bone or cartilage might just puncture an artery."
"You did not have to shoot me! I wasn't even holding my gun."
"Be thankful you weren't. Tommy's a crack pistol shot. He knew that if he'd just threatened you with it, you might have gone for a gun, and he'd have had to shoot to kill. You see, we aren't taking any chances on the safety of our family with a madman like you. Now, shut up and consider yourself lucky."
Tommy had gone upstairs, and now he returned with Ann and Darla in tow. The girls had cleaned up quite a bit, but they still showed signs of fatigue and the ordeal they'd been through.
"I've cased the whole place, Dad, and there's no phone here," said Tommy. "Guess we'll have to go somewhere and call the Surete."
"I'll tell you what. You keep your eye on things here, and I'll go get the law, and bring some clean clothes for everyone from the hotel. I know the girls won't want to go back to town looking like they do now." The wry smiles and nods told him he'd been right. "Don't forget the doctor!" groaned Gerault.
"I'd like to," Fleming told him, then he kissed Ann, patted Darla's cheek, and winked at Tommy. "Stand loose. See you as soon as I can make it."
He went up the stairs, leanng the door open, and soon they heard the engine of the Citroen as it left.
"I think I'll go up and lie down for a while," said Ann, smiling apologetically at her children.
"I don't blame you, Mother," said Darla. "I'll join you later. Right now, I think I'll keep Tommy company for a while." Ann went upstairs, and Darla leaned against one of the pillars which supported the floor joists of the house, as she studied the nude form of Yvette, who was sitting on the mattress parked below her wall chains.
Tommy was studying her, too. He was remembering the humiliation she'd put him through. Then he tensed as Darla picked up her skirt and held it at her waist, walking slowly over to the filthy Frenchwoman. Tommy was aghast as Darla pushed the girl over onto her back, then squatted over the brunette's head.
"Stick your tongue in this," she whispered, her eyes daring the prisoner to refuse. Still she seemed surprised when the long, pink tongue snaked out and lapped greedily at her widely opened slit. It twirled expertly around Darla's little fleshy bud, making her tingle all over. Around and around it moved, then licked out and caressed daintily the swelling lips on either side of the slit.
Darla had intended to humiliate Yvette, but now she was caught up in the pleasure of what was happening to her. Her breath panted as the expert tongue made passionate love to her excited flesh. She could feel the juices start to flow from her, and every once in a while the brunette's mouth would move up to cup her entire fleshy canyon and suck at it, draining it of its nectar.
Tommy was fascinated by whatever it was that his sister was up to. He walked slowly over toward them, and squatted down to see it all.
Darla was too involved by now to think or care who saw what. She was breathing heavily, and the wind hissed through her teeth as the sensations built up inside her. Her eyes were closed, and a whimpering sound was issuing from her nose.
Tommy's eyes dropped from his sister's face to her crotch. He stared at the beautifully enticing pinkness of her open slit, and watched as Yvette's tongue lashed out and upward, sliding along a fleshy lip up to the top, then dipping in and caressing the tiny sentinel inside.
When her lips reached up and sucked at the meaty splendor, he felt a thrill unlike any he'd experienced before. In spite of his recent activities, he felt himself getting an erection. He hadn't known that watching one female do this to another could affect a man so deeply.
Squatting down as he was, his slacks were stretched so tight that the erection was painful. He groaned, and Darla's eyes opened to look at him. Her gaze fell on his stiffening problem, and she made a tiny moaning sound, then reached out and unfastened his fly.
Her hand dipped inside, and came out with his hard lance. While Yvette continued to pursue her involvement, Darla leaned over and let her weight go onto her knees, then she took Tommy's wand in her lips and kissed it gently.
Oh, God! These people have really made perverts of us ad! My sister is kissing my cock, and no one's even forcing her to. Oh-h-h! It's wrong, but it feels so good. Ah-h-h! She's licking it, now.
Darla had snaked out her tongue, and it began to keep time with the rhythm of Yvette's caresses, which were stimng the blonde's hot fluids steadily.
I can't help myself! My cunt is so swollen I don't know what to do, and that lovely hard thing made me so hungry I couldn't leave it alone. God! I hope Mother doesn't come down here, now!
Her hand was wrapped around the pale shaft, moving the soft skin back and forth over the hard core, as she licked and sucked at the darkened head.
As the chained brunette worked faster and faster, she sneaked a hand over and dipped it into her own heated pool, where she fingered her hot depths while licking and sucking at the blonde's canyon.
Tommy's hands had slipped into his sister's blouse and cupped the unfettered treasures there. The nipples were rolling between his fingers, and his excitement was at its peak. Then Darla's most intense moment came, and she trembled all over, just as Tommy lost his load. It spurted hotly into her mouth, and she swallowed as it gushed over and over.
Then she rolled back on her hips, and sat on her feet and on Yvette's chest, catching her breath. The brunette looked up at her and grinned, licking the juices from around her mouth with a weak tongue.
"That is a lovely cunt, with the so-soft blonde fur. I am very grateful that you let me eat you." She giggled, and let her arms fall out from her shoulders, the chains clanking on the hard floor.
Darla grabbed the arms near the elbows, then placed herself once more over the brunette's mouth. Yvette began to struggle, and Tommy wondered what his sister was up to. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Something you can't do. I'll bet. I'm peeing in her filthy mouth!" Then she squealed as Yvette bit her, and raised herself up away from the anry teeth, but Tommy could see that a tiny stream still ran down the red canyon into the prisoner's face.
Then Darla backed away and jumped free of the angry hands which grabbed out at her. She stood at a safe distance and laughed. "La Crasse! La Crasse!" Darla spit at her.
"What's that mean?" Tommy wanted to know. Darla told him.
"She doesn't mind being called that," said Le Boeuf. "It is what everyone in La Place Pigalle called her. She would laugh at the other whores, because even though Yvette was not clean about her person, she told them that there was one thing she never had done, and never would do, although many of them had done it. And as long as she held that over them, they could call her what they wished, but they were dirtier than she."
"What was that?" asked Darla and Tommy tot gether.
"Non! Non! Le Boeuf, I keel you eef you tell!" Yvette was white around the eyes, and almost foaming at the mouth.
Le Boeuf laughed. He looked at the dirty brunette, then at the wounded Gerault, and appeared to think about it. Then he shrugged. He was chained next to Yvette, and he studied the scene for a moment.
"Unlock my right hand and right foot, and I will show you."
Tommy studied the Moroccan's face, particularly the eyes. After a moment, he went over and unlocked the cuff around the black right ankle, then right wrist, being careful not to get grabbed.
"Pull her over here a little closer," said Le Boeuf. Tommy and Darla dragged the mattress and its protesting burden as close as it would go toward the Moroccan. She was trying to kick and pull with her arms, but the chains hampered her. The Flemings held her down easily.
There are certain men – perverts of a kind – who get their joy from only one act. They have to pay high to get a whore to go along with it. And Yvette has resisted all these years just to be able to say she is that much cleaner than the others who call her La Crasse.
The Moroccan suddenly shifted his body, placing his naked bottom over Yvette – he hadn't been allowed to put his slacks on before they brought him from his final act of sodomy.
The girl was screaming, now, but she couldn't escape. A slight sound and a sudden odor told the Flemings what was coming. Then the dark excrement fell onto the girl's lower belly. She went limp, and ceased all resistance.
The Moroccan moved back to his place, and with unbelievable dignity stood there, a faint smile in his eyes, and around the comer of his mouth.
"She has needed that for a long time. Perhaps it will change her." He held out his wrist and waved it at Tommy, who slowly walked over and refastened the freed wrist and ankle. Then he grinned at Le Boeuf, who returned one of his own.
"I think we'd better get her upstairs and cleaned up before the marines arrive," said Darla. Tommy unlocked Yvette's shackles, trying to avoid the smelly decoration she now wore. Then he stood up.
"Come on! Wouldn't you like to get cleaned up?" He looked down at her, and she lay there limply. Then her eyes moved to study the brown mess on her belly, and she slowly slid of the mattress, holding her hands cupped over it. She went up the stairs and Tommy followed closely behind her, all the way to the bathroom.
He looked in often, as she splashed in the big bathtub, and when she had finished, she came out an entirely different person. It was almost a shame to chain her up, again. Then she surprised him. She asked if she could wash her clothes before she went back down. He agreed, and she soon had them washed, rinsed and hanging on a line she'd hung up there in the bathroom.
When he locked her up, be told her that he'd bring the clothes to her when they were dry. As he reached the foot of the stairs, she called out to him, softly.
"I really never let anyone do that to me before. I did it to them – the men who wanted me to. But no one ever made me dirty that way. I don't think I'll ever be clean again, now."
"If you take a bath every day, you'll be cleaner than you've been for a long time," Tommy told her. "You've got a good start; why not keep it up?"
"I don't know how often they'll let me bathe in prison," she said.
He turned and walked up the stairs, not wanting to think about her problems. As he got to the doorway, he sensed that something was not right. He stepped through and turned to look both ways. In the hall between the kitchen and the living room, his mother stood. A strange man stood behind her.
"I have a gun in her back," the man said. "Drop that pistol you're carrying in your waistband, or I shoot her!"
Slowly, Tommy pulled out the Beretta and let it fall to the floor.
"Your mother has answered enough questions for me to tell me what is going on. Call your sister up from the cellar." His eyes were strangely burning, and Tommy wondered if this man was perhaps even more insane than Gerault.
He turned and called over his shoulder into the stairwell.
"Darla, you'd better come up here." His sister rushed up the stairs and burst into the kitchen. When she saw what was going on, her face paled.
"Get in here with your mother, Mademoiselle." Darla obeyed. When she and Ann were in the living room, the man spoke again.
"I'm going to take the young man downstairs. If both of you are not here, sitting quietly on the sofa-bed, when I come back up, I shall return down there and kill him. Do you understand?"
They nodded, and he herded Tommy down the stairs and shackled him in the remaining chains.
"Henri!" yelped Gerault. "You have come just in time. Get me a doctor, so we can get out of here."
"To you I am always Monsieur Guiyesse, Gerault," snapped the distinguished man. "You have bungled this whole thing, and I will get you no doctor. You can lie there and die!" Guiyesse looked at the other prisoners, and shook his head. He went back upstairs, and closed the door behind him.
Ann and Darla were sits ing on the sofa-bed, and bight was in their eyes as Guiyesse approached them.
"I would advise you to give me no trouble, because I will kill either or both of you if I must, and then the young man. Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed. Hurry!"
Ann and Darla looked at each other, then began to undress. They had thought themselves finished with disrobing before strangers. But they obeyed, and when they were on the bed, he took some cord from his pocket and tied Darla's hands to the frame at one end of the sofa, and Ann's legs to the frame at the other end. Then he tied Ann's fight arm to Darla's tight leg, and her left arm to the girl's left leg.
He removed all of his clothes, and placed the gun on the lamp table, pulling it close enough to be reached from the bed. When he turned toward them, they saw that he had the smallest piece of male equipment they had seen in this house. It was infantile.
He climbed up on the bed with them, and his face hovered over Darla's exposed blonde bush with its pink gaping slit. Then he lowered his tiny genitalia over Ann's face, letting his hairy bag lie on her chin.
He looked down at Darla's quivering flesh, and even from her awkward position she could see that he was pouting like a child.
"They've had all the fun, after I did all the planning, and they spoiled the whole thing. Now it's my turn to have fun!" The petulance in his voice was that of a maniac. They were now more afraid than at any time in the horrible days they'd just weathered.
"Now, Maman, kiss it for me as you used to do, while I have my little feast." He rubbed his pitiful equipment against Ann's lips as he grabbed Darla's buttocks in his hands, and buried his face in her silky mound.
Ann, frightened, began to kiss the wrinkled thing that dangled over her. It was so small and soft that she doubted if it would ever become anything useful. She wondered if his mother really had kissed it for him. What a way for a man to develop or rather, not to develop. She prayed that Chuck would come quickly. There was no telling what this madman might do.
The tiny thing slipped from her lips, and she could not recapture it with her hands tied. He half-turned and gave her a clout on the side of her face.
"You stop that! You just want to make me feel bad. But I won't let you! I'll kill you if you don't be nice to me!"
She stretched her neck out as far as she could, and finally managed to seize the miniature target, and hold it. She didn't dare let it slip away again! She vacuumed it into her mouth and held it tightly between tongue and teeth, then tried to work on it, hoping she could make him change his attitude.
Darla was ready to scream. This maniac had meant it when he said feast.
God! If he bites my cunt lips like that much longer, I'll have to bust out and scream. Then the mouth lifted from her pained flesh, and he laid his head down with his cheek where his lips had been. He seemed to be going to sleep!
She listened for a while, and his breathing grew heavy. She decided to chance it.
"Mother!" she whispered. There was no answer, but the head on her pubis did not move. "Mother!" she increased her volume this time.
No answer. She wondered if he had struck her mother harder than it had appeared!
Then she heard it. It was muffled, and sounded far away. But it definitely was a sound, though it barely reached her.
"Hi-m-m?" was all Ann could get out past her slippery little ward. And the dead weight of the madman's lower torso covering her face muffled the sound considerably. "Mother, I think he's asleep!" she said.
Ann took a chance, and let her mouth open to try to converse.
"So? We can't get loose. That damned cord cuts into the flesh, and it's tough – probably nylon."
"Wait a minute," Darla said. "I've got an idea." She told Ann what they might do, and soon they decided to try it. It was a slim chance, and if he woke up, it might mean the end!