The Afflicted

"The answer is yes and no. I do not want you. Claude does not want Aimée. But something within me does. Aimée, I am so sorry."

"How could you?" said Aimée. "Your own flesh and blood. What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know. Just... just stay away from me for the rest of the voyage. When we get to America... well, we won't have a house together. We needn't even choose the same city."

He swam dejectedly back to the ship. He grabbed his breeches from the rope ladder, ascended, and walked sadly into his cabin where he lay on his bed impassively. Perhaps half an hour later he heard a knock on his door.

"Entré'" he said.

It was his father.

"What did you say to your sister?" Palo asked.

"Nothing. Nothing, father."

"Nonsense, you said something."

"It's personal, between us," said Claude, not wanting to explain any more.

His father didn't pursue it any further, and left.

Soon Claude heard the women return. It sounded as if Aimée threw herself on her bed and he heard sobbing coming through her wall. Another knock on the door.

"Yes?"

His mother came in, carrying a cup. He turned his head to the wall, not even wanting to look at her.

"Go away."

"If you wish, but first you must drink."

He reluctantly turned to her, sitting up to take the goblet she offered. This was a large serving of blood, mixed with wine this time.

"Would you like to talk?"

"No mother, I would not like to talk. I am sick."

"I talked with Aimée. It is true, you are sick."

"You think so, too?" He turned to hers with tears spilling down his face.

"Yes cheri, you are sick. We all are. It is called the Affliction, as you know."

"That is no excuse. You should have seen the look on her face, mother. Aimée, my sister, I can never repair that. She doesn't understand."

"No, not yet. But she will soon. Do not despair about Aimée. Time heals many things; this will be one of them. "

She reached up to smooth his hair.

"Don't touch me, Mother. Please."

"Very well," said Frederique, smiling sadly. "Listen to me Claude. You are beginning to awaken."

"No."

"Yes. I thought I felt something yesterday. You should have told me."

"Mother, I couldn't."

"Claude. These things, these feelings, they are not wrong, they are inevitable."

"No, they're not."

"Yes, they are and we will talk more of this later. Try to rest."

She returned to her cabin.

Perhaps an hour passed and the boat rocked curiously. Claude went to the painting and selected the crow's nest. The wind was whistling through the ropes. He saw the captain stand on deck and blow a whistle, and the sailors appeared shortly thereafter. It was a marvel to watch them at work, climbing the riggings, unfurling the sails. The reaction was almost instantaneous as the sails dropped down and the wind filled them... he felt a gentle lurch as they began their journey forward once again.

He longed to go into Aimée's room and tell her of the happenings. Sadly, he knew he couldn't and he closed the viewer and sat back on his bed, full of melancholy.

As he sat there in self-imposed exile in the confines of his room, something occurred to him. Though the viewer in the painting led to many areas of the ship, it didn't show everywhere. It just seemed odd that someone would go to so much expense and trouble without accounting for every room in the ship. He turned curiously to the other painting, the portrait of the woman. Running his fingers over the surface, it all felt smooth... except another rectangle around the eyes. She was wearing a jewel necklace. Reaching down to the emerald in the center of the string, he pushed and smiled as her eyes flipped to reveal another rectangle. Looking in, he saw a wonderful view from the aft deck, looking back on the wake of the ship. Another showed the rear deck. Two of the views were equally wonderful; showing the port and starboard views. The next startled him... it was Aimée's room. She was lying on the bed in her nightgown, weeping. He so wished to run to her, to comfort her... but it was too late for that, AND he couldn't trust himself once he was there. He wished he could at least hear her voice, to be that much closer to her. Putting his hand up to the painting as he peered closer into the viewer, he felt an odd ridge under his fingers. Pulling back, he discovered the pearl earring of the woman was also raised. Pushing it, he smiled to see her other ear flip open. Suddenly, the sniffling of his sister was clearly audible.

"Oh Claude," she whispered. "Why?"

She crossed toward him... again, the mirror, he suspected. She wiped her eyes and gazed at herself in the mirror.

"It's these," she said, angrily pushing on her breasts through her gown. "If I didn't have these he would still be my brother and he would not want me."

She was clearly exhausted; her eyes had bags under them and were half-lidded.

"It will be better tomorrow," she said. "Mama said sleep, wait. Things will look better. I don't know how, but I must."

She crossed to her bed and Claude unconsciously caressed the wall as he watched her fall asleep.

Sealing up the wall the painting, he crossed again to the ship painting. This one must also have a listening piece. Searching for clues, he considered the idea of sound. There in the foreground was a bugle, resting on a railing. He reached to feel it, and was surprised he had missed it before. The bell of the bugle was actually metal, not painted, and it was affixed to the painting. Digging his fingers under the surface, he found that it pulled away, and it was attached to a string... or more like a tube below. He looked at the device from every angle then followed his suspicion. Pressing the crow's nest button, he looked in the viewer and held the brass disk up to his ear. He heard wind, footsteps, and a tuneless humming coming from the sailor on watch.

He took a scan around the ship, listening and watching. He did not have the emotional energy to view his parents' room just now, and found he was weary like his sister from the day's exercise and emotional exertions. He lay down, nearly falling asleep... when his parents started up again.

For perhaps five minutes, he resisted. Then, he rationalized his actions, saying to himself: How much worse can I get. I have lusted after my mother, attacked my sister, I might as well watch my parents fucking.

His acerbic wish was certainly granted once he opened the viewer. Directly between the mirror and the bed, his mother was kneeling before his father and taking his cock into her mouth.

"Do you like that, Cheri?" she said, gazing up at Palo.

"You know I do," he said, "now do the thing I enjoy the most."

She licked the tip slowly, then flicked her tongue quicker and quicker. Palo groaned with pleasure as she tortured him that way for several minutes. Then she took him into her mouth. Claude watched with amazement as she slowly took his father's large cock in. First into her mouth, and then toward the back... and slowly, slowly down her throat. She had been kneeling, but as she took Palo further and further in, she leaned back, and sat on the floor. Palo towered above her and began to work himself slowly in and out of Frederique's throat. Claude had seen one or two girls in the brothel who could do this, but only for a few moments before needing to breathe. Frederique had no such need and held her breath for what seemed like a minute at a time.

Claude watched in wonder as she even worked Palo's cock with her throat muscles, swallowing to grip her throat around him and bring him more pleasure. An odd metaphor came to mind for Claude. A few years before, a painter had appeared on their doorstep, offering to paint their portraits. He had allowed Claude and Aimée to watch him paint... and it had been fascinating to see him work. Each stroke, each touch displayed the painter's mastery. Watching his mother, Claude had a similar feeling. She was a true artist in the arena of pleasure. He supposed having nearly six hundred years practice would help one hone their skills, and it was obvious she had been 'honing' studiously over the course of her in her long life.

She worked Palo faster and faster down her throat and his groans increased. Claude felt his own erection growing insistent, but turned away from the view hole to talk to directly to his pulsating member.

"Shut up," he whispered. "I can't give you what you want... and you will only be unhappy with me afterward. I have nothing for you."

He grinned as it actually seemed his cock dwindled a bit on these words. It was probably caused by the pause in watching his parents, but he still was glad for the first chance to smile since the incident with Aimée.

Still with the stethoscope-type device to his ear, he heard his father's groans growing more urgent. He turned to the viewer and looked through to see his mother working his father's cock rapidly up and down her throat, until finally Palo's body tensed and he pulled out of her."

"Aahhh," screamed Palo, and a huge explosion of white burst out of his cock, splattering Frederique's face and down her gorgeous breasts.

"Yes, mon cher, yes." murmured Frederique as Palo spilled volumes of cum over her body. Smiling, she stood and then did a truly amazing thing. She looked down at her breasts, and held her hand in a scooping motion... with her levitating power she swooped the cum off of her body, and then off of her face, so a small shimmering globe of what was suspended in front of her. The volume had been large, and the globe was the size of a very large marble. Frederique pulled the globe toward her face, and opened her lips extra wide to allow it in. She closed her mouth, and then swallowed it all in one gulp.

"Mmm," she said, wiping her lips of the small amount that had dripped out. She whispered, "Delicious. Un down, deux to go. Now Palo, we must be more quiet, it isn't fair to poor Claude."

"I'll try."

Palo took Frederique into his arms, and they kissed passionately. Claude watched with admiration at their two bodies and how they matched together so well. His father was a large, powerful man with rich dark skin and a stunning natural physique that was enhanced even further by the strength given by the Affliction. Frederique possessed her own, feminine strength. Her full breasts and round hips were so perfect, so stunning that Claude felt the desire stir within him anew at her flawless body.

Reflecting on art, the two of them paired were ne plus ultra, Claude could not imagine a more beautiful sight.

Palo reached down with his hand, grasping Frederique's pussy with a firm yet gentle passion to which she responded instantly. Gone was her vocal lovemaking of the night before, to be replaced by hesitant gasps. What she couldn't know was how much more her restraint excited Claude because he was watching and listening with growing excitement. Palo worked seemed to have acquired skills of his own in his shorter life, because his touch on her had her panting with joy. As she neared climax, Palo paused and knelt before her. With his tongue and his hands, he began bringing her to even greater heights. Claude became the student now, watching as his father worked his fingers into Frederique's pussy while licking her firmly. His free hand brushed upward to her breasts; sometimes massaging an amazing breast, sometimes pinching her nipple. Her knees started to buckle and she fell back onto the bed, her legs over the edge. Palo buried his head between her legs and began licking her in long strokes, Frederique gasping every time he reached the top and brushed her clit. He continued this motion without fail and her breaths grew shorter and louder each time, more voice and less breath entering each gasp. Making use of his hand once more, Palo pushed his fingers in and concentrated his tongue solely on her clit with his tongue.

Her moan started low and quiet, but raised in volume as her body began to spasm uncontrollably. Palo stayed with her as long as he could, licking her into a further frenzy until she pushed him away and lay on her side, nearly screaming with joy.

"What happened to quiet?" asked Palo, smiling.

"I know. I am so sorry. I pray he's asleep."

Not likely, mother, thought Claude to himself. You would have wakened the dead with those cries.

Her cries had the expected effect on him though. Unwittingly, he found his hand on his cock, stroking himself slowly. No, he thought, angrily. I don't need this madness, this frustration.

"Time for three," said Palo, smiling.

"Yes, mon cher. What do you think? Shall we fly tonight?"

"I don't know, the swimming took away my energy," said Palo, half-reluctantly.

"For me?" she half-pouted.

"For you, very well."

What followed was something Claude had never imagined... and something he very much looked forward to trying if flight should be his gift.

Frederique began. Effortlessly, she lifted off of the floor and suspended herself horizontally above the floor. Gliding down, using nothing but her mouth, she sucked hungrily on Palo's dark cock... bringing him to full hardness. Palo remained in her mouth, and lifted himself as well. As gracefully as mating eagles, he twisted around to lower his mouth down on her pussy. Uncaring of their place in the room, they glided gracefully around the cabin, sometimes bumping against a ceiling or wall to drift slowly in the opposite direction.

Having excited each other enough in this way, they separated and flew to a vertical position a few feet apart, facing each other.

Frederique grinned and twisted to lie on her back in the air, gesturing with both hands to Palo to come to her. He remained vertical, and drifted toward her. Holding his cock in his hand and pointing it toward her, he entered her... she pushing toward him at the right moment. They began a rhythm there, pushing back and forth toward each other. There was no quickening, rather a slow deliberate motion they found that kept each of them near the precipice of orgasm. Palo soon shifted to match her horizontal state so it appeared as though they were resting on an invisible bed. Though their motions were easier, uninhibited by gravity or the friction of sheets.

The one thing not lacking was imagination. They drifted from horizontal to vertical, then twisted and were fucking inverted in the air. Claude smiled as his mother pulled her legs up to her chest (all the while keeping his father's cock within her) and then twisted around so he was behind her. Grabbing her hips he began pounding into her with a fierce intensity. After an exhausting sequence of these motions, they broke apart, panting for breath.

For the first time, he noticed a strain on his father's face. Frederique's effortless skill was clearly evident, here. Claude realized his parents had been airborne for at least twenty minutes. Twenty minutes was a considerable feat by itself. Add in coupling and Claude was very impressed.

Frederique glided to her dresser before the mirror and scooped up a flask of orange-ish oil and returned to Palo.

"I need you in my ass," she whispered, insistently.

Palo hovered to a horizontal position on his back and Frederique flew above him. She drizzled the oil down onto his cock and he massaged it over the length of his shaft. Claude had never felt any longing for men - but all the same he had to admire the physical beauty of his father's shaft, glistening and proud, black and tall as he held it ready for Frederique.

She took a handful of the oil and poured it into the air, where it stayed suspended. Directing it with her mind, it flew around to her back and landed at the top of the crack in her ass to drip slowly down to help in her readiness.

Palo flew to suspend himself about two feet above the bed, and Frederique glided above him, facing Claude in the mirror.

"I am so ready for this," she whispered, and lowered herself down onto his waiting shaft.

There was no hesitation... no gradual push. Frederique simply pushed him into her ass and groaned at the impact as he split her fully open. Claude had a curious image of a puppet master above them as they worked back and forth in the air. Though he could no longer see his father's face, he could tell from Palo's strained groans that the effort was becoming more and more difficult. It seemed Frederique was only getting started, her face bore an enraptured expression and she pushed more of Palo's length into her with selfish abandon. Her moans changed to girl-like squeals as she pushed down upon him harder and harder.

"Fuck me," she squealed. "Fuck my ass, Palo. I need this... please, please!"

"I'm ready," grunted Palo.

"Oh good. Split me open, my love. You know how."

Palo's groans grew louder.

"Yes," he moaned. "Yes. Yes. Now!!!"

With that, both Palo and Frederique released their flight and came plummeting onto the bed below. Palo screamed a guttural groan of pleasure, but Frederique's scream was one of pure, yet blissful anguish as Paulo's cock ripped into with the force of their falling gravity.

"Mon dieu!" she screamed, "Mon dieu, mon dieu, mon dieu."

Tears were dripping from her eyes from the agony. Had Frederique been mortal, Claude would have had grave concerns for her well-being. However, he had seen enough injuries among the Afflicted and knew what was coming next. He was fascinated by the creativity of this sexual coupling. His mother had intentionally taken the pain because she knew she could. This was such an inventive idea, to use the healing powers of the Affliction to heighten both pain and pleasure and also mix the two at the same time. With this final thrust, Palo's reserve evaporated and his face was a mask of orgasmic bliss as he pumped into his mate's plundered ass.

Frederique pulled off of Palo, sobbing cries which were a mix of ecstasy and pain. Palo took her in his arms.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, just hold me, darling. I'll be ready soon."

He hushed into her hear, holding her as she rocked back and forth. Soon, as her body rapidly healed, only the pleasure remained and she smiled. Wiping away the tears from her face, she turned and kissed Palo gently.

"Oh my love, you fed my hungry friend well tonight. Very well. You get some sleep. I wore you out, no?"

"Yes. How can you not be tired?" asked Palo, his eyes already nearly shut.

"Practice, my love. Practice."

Palo reclined back, his eyes already drooping from physical exhaustion and post-coital drowsiness.

"There you go, rest."

Frederique reached to the cabinet at her bedside and picked up her hair brush. Claude realized the hair-brushing must be a post-sex ritual for her. Palo was nearly asleep and murmured, "Good day, mon cher." as he drifted all the way gone.

Claude watched his mother with the same fascination as he had the night before. Still, he was able to resist the longing within him and he refused to touch himself with any purpose. It wasn't easy, watching his mother brush her hair there in the nude, recalling the images of the amazing sexual gymnastics he had just witnessed. Perhaps due to the emotional ordeal he had been through, he somehow resisted the urge and simply watched this beautiful woman grooming her beautiful brown hair.

Checking to see if Palo was asleep; Frederique rose and walked toward the mirror. Though Claude had shown great restraint, he closed the viewer when he saw her pick up the rose-infused oil. He knew he would not be able to resist touching himself any further if he watched her oil that magnificent body, just a few feet beyond him.

Claude removed the light breeches he'd donned after swimming and lay down upon his mattress. His cock was still terribly rigid. Had Aimée been there, he would have told her, 'yes, this hurts'.