"L'eclairage, c'est ne pas suffisant pour la photographie, maintenant," protested Yvette.
"What did she say?" Fleming asked his daughter. His French had been limited, in the old days, to slowly spoken phrases of simple vocabularies. Now he remembered very little of that.
"She says the lighting isn't good enough for taking pictures, now." Darla hoped that this meant a reprieve. If further photography was postponed until moming, maybe they could find some way to escape in the night.
"We will use the parlor," decided Gerault, dashing Darla's hopes for a delay. They were herded out of the bedroom, which they had just entered before Yvette's protest, and soon found themselves in a fairly large living room. The wall-to-wall carpeting was old but good, and there were a few pieces of furniture scattered around, none of which seemed to belong.
On the walls were a number of mirrors, which seemed to be built into the structure, or cleverly affixed to seem very permanent. In several places, the faint outlines of rectangular shapes revealed where pictures had been hung.
The place gave the appearance of a house deserted by its former occupants, then commandeered by Gerault and company as a temporary headquarters. Darla wondered where the furniture had been obtained, guessing that it might well have been stolen from other homes in the area.
Fleming paid little attention to the details of the room. He was just barely awake, and beginning to feel again the resentments and discouragements which had bothered him since his capture, and the guilt and shame he had experienced after the previous episode with his daughter.
"Here, on the sofa," commanded Gerault. They moved toward the huge sofa, which seemed to be rather new both in design and manufacture. As they approached it, the Frenchman tugged at a corner, and it opened out into a fair-sized bed.
"The clothes – quickly!" he ordered, and the father and daughter sullenly removed their clothes again. This time they piled them on a long coffee table nearby.
Yvette had opened the drapes which covered glass-paneled doors leading onto a terrace. A poorly tended garden could be seen through the dusty glass panels. It was on the side away from the road, and the shrubbery hid the doorway from outsiders.
The light which entered the room seemed to be magnified by the several mirrors, and it was considerably brighter than the bedroom.
"Let me see; I think Monsieur Fleming will sit on the edge of the bed…" Fleming obliged. "… And Mademoiselle will sit on his lap to begin." Darla obediently seated herself across her father's legs. She could feel the warmth of him against her thighs, and the fine covering of hair tingled where it touched her skin.
"No. Not like that. Turn and face him, with a leg on either side of him." Gerault was playing by ear, as if he were a directive genius setting up a scene for the movie cameras.
Darla lifted a leg and swung it over and around, past Fleming's head. He couldn't help but see the pink flash of her spread vulva as her thighs separated so widely. That, and the way her one breast bounced briefly after her knee had struck it during the move, returned him to the illicitly excited plateau he had reached earlier.
Darla, who had grasped her father by the shoulders to make the shift, leaning back on his lap to clear his head with her leg, had caught a glimpse of me soft, white penis which she had coveted until today, and which she had possessed with her mouth less than two hours ago. It made the same little thrills run through her now, no matter how she had intended to control her reactions this time.
While they had been in the cellar alone, she tried twice to talk to him, hoping they could help each other in some way. She felt that if she must continue to carry the burden of her incestuous enjoyment all alone, she would crack up. But Fleming had slept soundly, and she hadn't had the heart to make more than a token attempt to wake him with her quiet words. Now, she was more tensely strung than before. She was really up tight.
As she settled into the new pose Fleming automatically put his hands on her hips, helping her to balance on his lap. The contact doubled the sensations which traveled between them with Darla's hands on his shoulders. "Let us have some kissing, now," said Gerault.
As if hypnotized, they moved their heads together. In the beginning it was a zombie-like maneuver, as they reacted to the command, knowing the penalties for hesitation. But as their lips met, both of them knew the defeat of their individual resolutions.
The damp warmth of their bodies conducted each tiny tic and movement of every muscle. Even the slight tensions caused by trying to stay balanced in their positions as they moved to kiss, were amplified into caresses and meaningful movements, as the animal lusts within each body interpreted the small contacts and responded in kind.
Darla's moist lips parted, and she felt the hot tongue enter between them and caress the inner sides of her lips. As she sucked at the intruder hungrily, she felt the hard pressure of Fleming's stiffening member as it rose under her, slapping meatily against the tender sensitivities of her anus.
Her buttocks squeezed together in reflex, and they trapped the head of the hard instrument between them. This further excited the man, and he reacted by a muscular contraction which made the rod pulse into life, increasing its size and hardness.
It was a vicious circle. The feel of the swelling penis between her cheeks stirred Darla's inner juices, and they began to seep from the parted outer lips of her fleshy blossom, warming and dampening the base of her father's penis.
Something like a low growl emanated from Fleming's lips as he tore them from hers, and then trailed a fiery thrill down her neck to the peak of a breast. Her nipple erupted into a rigid erection which popped into his mouth, and he sucked at it thirstily, as though it could provide him with drink.
Darla's fleshy fountain was melting her juices all over his thighs as she writhed under the treatment. Then she tilted her hips and pulled back to release the rigid prisoner from her buttocks, letting it slip forward to dip into the slippery trough of her passion.
As it slid upward, between the swollen petals, gathering juices as it moved, it became trapped where the upper extremes of the lips were joined, and pressed tightly against her fleshy nubbin. She gave a squeal of joy, and rubbed herself against the newcomer with little wriggling movements.
Fleming's mouth switched to her other breast, and it blossomed under his kiss, eager to be taken and sucked. Then Darla whimpered her weakening defenses as the nether massage culminated her lower tensions. She arched her back and pressed harder against him, then shuddered a giant tremor, moaning as it shook her. When she relaxed, Fleming felt her wet heat leave him briefly then her hand reached down and grasped him tucking the achingly engorged head of his member into her hungry flesh.
As he felt himself slip within the inner lips which encircled her passage, his head was pulled from her breast, and drawn back up to place their mouths together again.
The tender, wrinkled folds of her passage seemed to suck him within her depths, and he thought he could feel every part of that pulsating passage as it worked at him, drawing him farther inside. She sucked his tongue deep into her mouth.
I'm swallowing him at both ends, she thought, exulting at the sense of possession it gave her. His sweet tongue in my mouth, and his wonderful cock in my hungry cant! I don't care what happens after this – Daddy Chuck is filling me from head to pussy, and it feels so good I hope I die before it stops!
Fleming was less fortunate – or unfortunate, as the case might be. He was experiencing the miserable coincidence of having his lusts and his conscious mind fully awakened at the same time. As he felt the hungers of his strongly sexual nature seize him and take control, he began to realize what was taking place, even more vividly than he had at the earlier session in the bedroom.
A creature of habit, Fleming had been used to using the period right after waking in the mornings, to lie and think about the recent successes and failures in his business involvements, and to plan the strategy for the day or days to come.
His mind, now fully awakening after the refreshing sleep in the cellar, began to function so well that it spotlighted his present involvement all too brightly. It was bad enough to be forced into this, but to be unable to close off the conscious mind – to be forced to think on it, concentrate on it mercilessly as it took place – that was agony. Especially when it was so damned enjoyable!
God! She's enjoying this as much as her mother does! The little minx is literally eating me up! And I love it, God help me! That little cant of hers is SO juicy and hot and squirmy, and it grabs at me as if it were starrved! What in the name of God is going to happen to us? Our family is being turned into a bunch of perverted animals!
Darla could hear her father groaning, but she took it for the sounds of his lustful enjoyment of her. Unaware of the misery he was experiencing, she gloried in the way she was exciting him to vocalize. It stirred her to even greater passion, and her lubricant was literally streaming from her hyperstimulated glands.
"Fuck me hard! Oh-h-h-h! Fuck it into me! Dig it way up inside me!" Her words were growled out as she lifted her mouth from his to beg him for more. "Oh-h-h…! Fill my whole cunt with it…! Oh-h-h…! God…! I'm leaving you…! Don't let me go empty…! Squirt me full…! Oh-h-h-h…!" She panted and gasped as she bucked around on his lap like a wildcat.
"Oh! Daddy! Fill me or kill me! I can't stand it hungry and empty like this! Argh-h-h-h!" She stiffened as she reached her peak and began to topple. Then she felt the pumping of his pulsing fluids as they splashed against her innermost walls.
"God! I'm coming in you, baby!" Fleming moaned as he loosed himself. Then he was holding her tightly, pulling her soft buttocks to him, pouring himself into her as deeply as he could, even as he hated himself for it.
He toppled over backward on the bed, taking her with him. They lay there, breathing heavily, still locked together, until Fleming felt a strange sensation, as though he were being tickled at the base of his now overly sensitized penis. Then his balls were being tickled. He knew that Darla's hands were both on his neck. What could be happening? He looked downward past the creamy body that lay on top of him. A mass of flying black hair was moving around at the edge of the bed. Then he looked up to the mirror just opposite the sofa on a nearby wall, and he could see what was taking place.
That damned Yvette! She's licking my cock and balls, and slurping around Darla's little cant as if she were starving! My God! What a bunch of perverts and sadists! I've got to get us out of here! Quick!
He moved to separate them, wanting to halt the Frenchwoman's intrusion into the episode. From seeing and smelling her, he didn't want any part of her touching him or his. But as he felt his limp member pull out of the snug sheath of his daughter's vagina, the sucking sound it made was followed by another, similar sound.
God! She's sucked me into her mouth! He tried to pull away from the feasting harpy, but Darla's weight on top of him kept him from freeing himself. And Yvette had both of Darla's legs in her hands, one of them very high up. As Darla's hips began to gyrate, he realized where that hand really was!
"Gerault!" he called out. "We've done what you told us to do – you have your pictures – now let us out of here. What that woman's doing has nothing to do with your pictures!"
"Monsieur Fleming! You would not begrudge the photographer a small bonus, would you? She has had to watch very much and it makes her very excited. Relax and allow her a little pleasure. Then you can clean up and put on your clothes."
Fleming's head sank back on the bed, and he heaved a sigh of resignation. He felt his member stiffening in spite of his revulsion, as the girl expertly tongued its tingling surfaces. Then it was rock-hard again, and she was sucking and milking it with her mouth, while working her hand in the depths of Darla's hot, wet flesh. Darla was moving wildly on top of her father as the trained fingers delved into her.
Then Darla's head moved over her father, and her mouth found his. She tongued his lips until they opened, and plunged her tongue between them into his mouth. The feel of her warm breasts on his chest, and the going-over Yvette was giving him, loosed his animal once more.
He brought his own tongue into locked combat with Darla's, and then he was sucking her tongue into his mouth, famished again for the sweet nectar of her youthful juices. She was wiggling in her excitement as Yvette worked at the center of her passion, and began to moan into Fleming's mouth as she neared her goal.
Then he felt himself opening up. As Yvette took more and more of him into her mouth, Darla took back her tongue, and then sucked Fleming's up into her mouth with a surprising strength. He felt his insides explode.
Darla bunched up in a writhing bundle as she popped her release, and her hot, wet feathery flesh came down on his belly, accompanied by Yvette's sloppy wet hand, and he was draining out the tip of his member, as if the French girl were stealing his soul. He groaned at the awful completeness of his orgasm; it seemed as if it would never stop. Then he felt her mouth leave his organ with a final, milking tug.
Darla, moaning faintly, rolled off him and lay beside him on the bed. Both were replete. It was almost as if their insides had been surgically removed.
Fleming looked up to see Yvette regaining her feet. She lifted her filthy skirt with a shiny-wet hand and wiped her moist face and chin. As she dried her face, her free hand massaged her black-haired pubic mound, parting the thickened lips until her dripping pinkness gleamed wetly at the observers.
"You can go to the bathroom, now," conceded Gerault.
"But I am not finish with them!" Yvette protested, rubbing her swollen nether lips with one hand, and her upper lip and nose with the other.
"Go see Le Boeuf, then. I want these people to rest. Tomorrow, Monsieur Fleming goes for the money, ne c'est pas?"
Darla had pulled herself together and started for the bathroom. Gerault followed her out of the room. Yvette pouted sullenly, watching Fleming as he sat up on the edge of the sofa bed. She walked over to him and thrust her hips out.
"Be nice to me. Give me some pleasure. You will not be sorry!" She reached out and picked up his hand, trying to place it in the wet nest of her excitement. He jerked it away from her grasp with a curse.
"You filthy, stinking whore! I wouldn't touch your diseased cunt for anything! You're lower than the dirtiest animal. You're even worse than Gerault. At least he tries to look clean!" His anger boiled up at the disgusting uncleanliness of her.
Gerault and Darla came back into the room, and the girl started to dress as Fleming got to his feet and headed for the bathroom. As he went into the hall, he heard Yvette yell after him.
"I will make you sorry, rich American! No one can talk like that to Yvette!" She lapsed into French, rattling it off at Gerault, who had followed Fleming into the hall. He cut her off with a few words, then accompanied Fleming to the bathroom.
When the victims had been led back to the cellar and shackled, and the family was again left to themselves, Fleming asked his daughter what the conversation was about. She was quiet for a minute, then answered him in a low voice, so that the other two could not hear.
"She was very angry with you for scorning her and calling her names. To get evens she asked Gerault to give her Tommy to play with."
"What did he say?" Fleming felt a chill travel up his back.
"He told her that he'd see – after you left to get the money!"
"Damn! He can't do that! It's not part of the bargain. We did everything they ordered and they have the pictures. Now I have to get the money, or even if they release us those pictures could turn up anywhere to haunt us. God! What a horrible mess!"
"Actually, Daddy Chuck, he can do anything he wants. Until all of us are free, he has all the winning cards! You'd better talk to him and try to reason with him about Tommy. It wouldn't do to make him mad. He thinks you've caused him enough trouble by refusing to pay the ransom in the first place."
Fleming studied his daughter's face, then took a quick look at Ann and Tommy. Both had their eyes closed. He turned back to Darla.
"You think so, too, don't you? You think I should have paid when you first turned up missing, don't you?" His voice was bitter. Darla couldn't be sure whether the bitterness was directed at himself or at her. He could have come to the decision that he'd been wrong in his lifelong opinions about ransoming. Or he could just suspect that she blamed him for all they'd been put through.
"You did what you thought was right, Daddy. No one could ask you to act against the things you believe in. Like I told you before, I'm proud that you had the courage of your convictions when it came to a real test. I know it wasn't easy for you."
"Don't patronize me, Darla!" Fleming roared. He was losing his grip on his temper as his frustrations increased. After years of giving orders, he had been forced to take the kind of orders that he wouldn't have believed anyone capable of giving. His guilt at letting his personal convictions cause the capture and torture of his whole family was now compounded by the guilt he felt about the wildly sexual joy he'd experienced with his own daughter. For her to sympathize with him now was another thorn of guilt in his prickling hide. He blew up.
"Could it be that you're trying to keep me busy thinking about how I got us all into this, just to tout me off the train of thought you don't want me to follow? You wouldn't want me to wonder, would you, about how accomplished a bed partner you are?"
Darla gasped, shocked at what he was insinuating.
"You're a regular bundle of passion, aren't you? A vixen who loves cock so much she don't care how she has it – or even if it's her own father, by God!" He was panting as he sputtered the last words.
Darla was sobbing, now. She knew again the shame she had felt before as she realized her unnatural passions for her father. But one of the excuses she'd had was that he was a desirable person in so many other ways. She couldn't get excited over just any male. But her father had always been so special. He was so understanding and gentlemanly and solicitous for others. This wasn't like him at all. She felt lost – truly lost – for the first time since the whole kidnapping thing had started. She was alone in the midst of her family. The father she'd loved more than anything in the world had turned against her. He hated her.
"Charles!" Ann's voice was like a sharp icicle piercing the thick atmosphere of the cellar. Even in the depth of his angry frustration, Fleming's ears burned at that address. When she called him Charles, Ann was not about to agree with anything he said or did. And the coldness of her tone now promised even more than the usual rhubarb.
"If I weren't chained to this damned wall, I'd come over there and beat you to death with your own damned pocket watch!" Her tone had not gained any warmth since she first spoke to him.
"This whole family is suffering because they trusted you to do the right thing. I could have raised hell back there at the hotel and insisted you pay the ransom. Rut I let you make the decisions. And I'm not about to cry on your shoulder now, just because your handling of the affair has landed us here."
"But I'll be damned if I'll have you condemn that girl for having the depth of sexuality she inherited – in part – from you! As did your son! And I admit to at least half of the genes that are responsible for their passionate natures."
"Just what the devil do you think Tommy and I were forced to do up there? Play pattycake? We gave in to their threats in pretty much the same way that I imagine you two did. And we did things that mother and son should never in God's world do. And we enjoyed it! Both of us! And we were sorry it happened. And we talked it over like two intelligent, educated, enlightened people should. And we decided not to let it ruin our lives."
"But that could all go by the board. You come along with your self-pity and anger at your own weaknesses and accuse your daughter of habitual promiscuity, and you can ruin all our lives!"
"Well, you're not going to do it! I won't let you! This mess is a time for all of us to stick together. And it seems to be a time for revelations, too. Well, let me do a little revealing of my own."
"You seem to be shocked to discover that your daughter is responsive to the stimulation of a healthy male body controlled by a mind that – when it's thinking properly – commands respect and admiration. Would YOU rather she was a frigid bundle of inhibitions that would go through life looking for a storybook romance that never came?"
"And don't tell me that you're unaware of that very normal phenomenon known as a father fixation? Damned few girls don't idolize their fathers, if the men are worth a damn at all. Take a gal like that and force her, naked, into her father's naked arms, and let her feel his naked cock against her very vulnerable body, and what do you have?"
Ann paused for breath, but not for long. She was fighting for the very foundations of her family, and the battle was going against her by its very nature. It was an unprecedented situation for any family to find itself in.
"We've been forced to learn a lot about ourselves, and about each other. At least that holds true between Tommy and me, and between Darla and you, Charles! And we may not be pleased with what we learn, but we can surely forgive in others the same weaknesses we find in ourselves; and in case there are any doubts, let me hear you right now, Charles Eldon Fleming, deny before God and your family that you did not find pleasure in the incestuous relationship you were forced into with your own daughter! Go on! Let's hear it for old Charlie!"
Fleming came apart. He began to sob great, tearing, gasping sobs as he broke under Ann's complete spotlighting of his weaknesses. When he could get his breath, he tried to speak.
"God, I'm sorry! Can you forgive me? Any of you?"
"I forgive you Daddy," said Darla, crying herself at the emotions which tore through her.
"Sure, Dad," said Tommy, shakily. "Like Mom says, we all were forced to learn all too much about ourselves. I sure couldn't cast the first stone, the second, or the third."
It was quiet for a minutes then Fleming dared to ask the question. "Ann?"
He waited, and as he waited, he thought. Then he knew he hadn't said enough.
"Ann, I know that I have to ask your forgiveness especially. You gave me the two finest kids there are, anywhere, and I've not only let them down, but I've caused them unnecessary misery. And by implying that Darla had gone wrong, and that it angered me, I intimated that it was her mother who was at fault."
"God! I don't know what came over me! Here I am, taking out my mad and my helplessness, as Uncle Curt used to say, on the very ones who should be applauded. Most kids would be in shock from having to go through all this, but my whole damn family except me is riding out the storm beautifully. I'm not too sure I want to get out of this alive, myself. As long as I can get the rest of you free. I'm not sure I'll be able to live with myself after this."
"Chuck," Ann's voice came softly to him, and he got up the courage to look over at her for the first time since she'd scalded him with her words. "You've been carrying the load for all of us. Sure, each one of us suffers from all this. But who is it that the other three have been looking to for a way out? Who's been straining his brain to figure out how to protect the people he's always been responsible for? With all you've had on your mind, it took the very worst straw to break the camel's back. I think you've done pretty well. How about it, kids?" In unison, Darla and Tommy answered her.
"You'd better believe it!" Everyone chuckled at their simultaneous use of the same words. Then, as the laughing died down, Fleming spoke.
"We'd better make use of whatever time we have left. I think I'm supposed to be dropped off somewhere in Marseilles in the morning. I'm supposed to get the money, then be brought back here. By the way – the price has doubled. But that's nothing. I hope you all know that it wasn't the money that made me refuse before." They all assured him that they knew that.
"Holy cow!" said Tommy, "I've seen you give bigger checks to the USO than what they asked to release Darla!"
"Well," replied Fleming, "just so you understand that I did what I did because I thought it was the sensible thing to do, based on my own observations of past kidnappings throughout history."
"Daddy! Since you know where we are, from my description, you can bring the police back here, can't you?" Darla asked.
"I'm going to have to play it pretty cagey," said Fleming. "I can't be sure what they might have up their sleeve. I know for one thing, Yvette has eyes for Tommy, and that Gerault has half-promised her she could have him for a playmate once I start for Marseilles. We've got to think of some way to stop that. Can you imagine that filthy, smelly woman getting that close to you?"
"Yukh-h-h-h!" said Tommy, feeling his insides squirm sickeningly. "She made a pitch earlier, when I was washing up in the bathroom. I almost tossed my cookies when she exposed herself to me. Why would anyone want to be so stinking dirty?"
"We'll probably never know, thank God!" said Ann. "But we've got to think about how to keep her from contacting any of us. Heaven knows what kind of diseases she's liable to carry."
"I'm going to refuse to bring back the money unless she goes along to Marseilles," said Fleming. "I'll insist on her accompanying me when they drive me to wherever they're going to let me off. That's the only way I can think of to derail whatever train of thought she has about Tommy."
"Where could the Moroccan be, I wonder," mused Tommy. "I haven't seen him since be was down here earlier, just before Mom and I were taken upstairs."
"I don't think that Le Boeuf really likes Gerault, although he takes orders from him," said Darla. "Le Boeuf seems to have a little conscience, and I think he hates the way Gerault enjoys being sadistic with us."
"Maybe so," replied Fleming. "But he also could be out somewhere laying some kind of groundwork for tomorrow. After all, they have to plan pretty carefully before they turn me out some place in the city, and they'll probably have me followed while I go to get the money."
"I'm curious about how you're going to contact them after you get it," Tommy said. "They must have something pretty sneaky figured out – after all, you might be suspected of having yourself followed by the police or something."
"I imagine they'll contact me. Probably have me return to the area where they let me off and wait until they're sure I wasn't followed before they reveal themselves."
"However it's done, you can be sure they'll take plenty of precautions to protect themselves," said Ann. "Be careful every minute, Chuck! Don't take chances!"
"I won't," Fleming promised. "If I did something stupid, and they decided to kill me, you might all be left here to rot in this Godforsaken dungeon. You can bet I'll be plenty careful!"