Chapter 6

"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 Lion' Fleming automatically put his hands on her h ps, 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 mo Led 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.