The Afflicted

"What's that for?" asked Claude.

"Your treat."

She took the loop of the knot and slipped it down over his shaft. Then she slipped his balls through a loop as well and gently pulled on the knot. Claude gasped as it tightened around the base.

"Let me know if it hurts." she said in a low, sultry tone.

Tighter and tighter she drew it, until he started at the tension.

"Good?" she inquired.

"Yes, very."

Something about the tightness of the knot allowed blood to push into his cock... but delayed the escape. He looked down at his rod, standing very tall from the way the knot was holding it. It moved slightly at each heartbeat.

"Prepare yourself for divine agony, my darling." she said.

Taking the oil again, she lubricated her fingers and palms and began working his shaft with both hands. There was nothing leisurely about her pace. She seemed on a mission. Claude was sure he would cum soon, but the orgasm seemed to be lurking beneath the surface.

"The trick is in the pressure," she said, looking him in the eyes without stopping her rapid massage. "It puts pressure below, blocking where your seed originates. If you ever have the chance, use this when you are fucking - it makes you last wonderfully, and keeps you harder than steel."

Faster and faster she worked him, pausing only to put more oil on her hands. Claude actually felt his cock growing hot from the friction, but could have cared less because of the frightening pleasure she was giving him.

"Tell me when you are ready - you will cum first, and then I will release it."

The pressure built within him, and he felt the cum gather up, only to meet a barrier on its way.

"Now," he gasped.

She pulled the end of the knot and released the pressure. Set free, the cum shot skyward. Another, then another, then another explosion erupted. Claude had closed his eyes during his orgasm, but opened them in surprise after his last spurt. He hadn't felt any cum land.

Looking up, he saw his jets of cum frozen in the air; his mother raised one eyebrow, a mischievous look on her face.

"I hadn't thought I would do this," she said, smiling. "But I work up a hunger too, no?"

The suspended jets began to coalesce into one column of cum, which flew directly over Frederique's head. She tipped her head directly back and then let it fall suddenly into her waiting mouth.

"Mmm," she said, grinning. "A nice nightcap, I must say."

Claude was still lying down on his back and she crawled on top of him, her breasts squeezed against his chest, her face inches from his.

"Now tell me, dear heart. How do you feel?"

Aside from the stunning pleasure of her body against his, Claude realized he felt... content? For the first time since his awakening he felt truly and wholly satisfied.

"My god mother, I feel amazing," he said.

"Not empty anymore?"

"No!" he whispered loudly, "I'm good. What's more, I'm normal. I was a shell, a wraith. Now I'm human again."
"I'm so glad," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him once more.

She rolled off of him and stood. She put her gown back on and retrieved her oil.

"Now remember, Claude dear. None of what we talked about; none of what we did can go past this room. Agreed?"

"Absolutely," said Claude. "Who would I tell, anyway?"

"No one, but keep it that way. Good night, dear.

"Good night, mother. And mother?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," he said as she was closing the door.

"Je vous en prie," she whispered. "It was my pleasure."

She closed the door and left Claude to contemplate what had just happened. Within moments he drifted off into his first true sleep in days.

CHAPTER 3

Claude was sleeping, dreaming of a woman's lovely touch on his body. Through a haze, he could almost make out her face.

"Claude," she said. "Wake up, Claude."

In his dream he pried his eyes open, to see her sitting beside him. Her touch on his shoulder felt so real, so alive he almost didn't want to wake up.

"Claude!" she said, louder... shaking him.

Claude woke up to see it really was his mother sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Good evening, sleepyhead." she said, smiling.

Claude sat up, rubbing his eyes, then remembered.

"Oh my god, was last night... real?"

"Oui. Very real. How do you feel?"

Claude took stock of himself. "Amazing," he said. "Mother, the satisfied feeling didn't go away. I still feel so alive at peace. And I slept! I could sleep another day, I think. How good this feels."

"I am most gratified. Come here."

She leaned over and kissed him gently. The kiss didn't enflame him so much as reassure the symbiote within him that it was still among friends and needn't fear.

"Last night should carry you through a few days," his mother said, gently. "We will find a discreet time to revitalize you when the need arises. Now, get dressed and come outside. It is such a lovely night."

She left and Claude dressed quickly. Climbing out on deck, he was enchanted by the view. A fair breeze was blowing, pushing the ship along at a good clip. The moon was just beginning to peak its head over the horizon and its trail of light across the gentle waves and swells made the entire scene look almost like a painting. The usual small crew was up top, just a first mate at the wheel and the two other trusted officers. As long as the wind held steady and they could stay on course, the family was allowed up top since the minimal crew could run the ship.

"Good evening, Father," he said to Palo who was standing with his mother at the railing.

"Good evening, Son. Good sleep, eh?"

"Unbelievable."

"That's good to hear," said Palo. "I spoke with the captain, he said the currents have been with us and he believes we'll be to New York in less than two weeks.

"That's wonderful," said Claude.

Palo and Frederique went for a stroll down toward the rear of the ship and Claude started for the front, wanting to take in more of the view.

If the evening was a painting, what he saw next transformed it from a journeyman's canvas to a masterpiece. Aimée stood at the railing, looking out on the waves. The wind blew her black hair about her face. Begowned in an elegant dress, she was framed perfectly by the glimmering ocean and the rising moon.

Claude must have watched her for at least five minutes before she became aware of his presence. She turned and saw him. The calm look on her face turned to one of loathing. She did not run from him, but approached him sternly.

"I spoke with mother," she said, "I don't care what she says. You disgust me. I hate the very sight of you."

His reply surprised her. "I understand," he said, "and I don't blame you."

"What?" she asked, stunned. "You don't justify your actions?"

"I cannot. But Aimée, we must find a way to somehow exist on this damned boat for the next fortnight. There is nowhere else to go."

"How about opposite sides and ends of the boat?" she said. "If I am port, you are starboard. If I am fore, you are aft. I want to be as far away from you as possible."

"Fair enough," he said, and walked back toward the rear of the ship.

They began an awkward dance over the next few hours. Like magnets with opposite poles pointed at each other; when Aimée would approach, Claude would move away from her. When Aimée would sense him coming, she would drift elsewhere.

As dawn approached, Claude was mid-ship admiring the moon which was now full and high. He stood near the hatch leading down to the crew quarters. Leaning against the deck, he was surprised when Aimée brushed right past him, going straight to the hatch.

"Too close, Sister. I was here first."

She ignored him, fumbling with the latch the crew hatch.

"How does this work?" she muttered.

"It doesn't matter, you can't go down there. That's where the crew is."

"I know," she said, turning to him. There was a wild look in her eyes. "They're in there. I can smell them. I'm going to take them all. One by one, I'm going to fuck them. If they don't please me, I'll rip out their throats. If they do please, me, I'll keep them around. That first mate, he shows promise, perhaps I'll bite him and infect him. He would make a good mate, no?"

"Aimée, stop kidding around," said Claude.

"This is no joke, Claude. I must have them. I will have them!"

She redoubled her efforts on the latch, scratching at the wood, trying to pull it up.

"Mother!!! Father!!!" shouted Claude, "Come now! Come quick!"

He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her toward the entrance to their quarters.

"No!" she said "I won't go, let me have them. I must have them!!!"

She struggled with him, showing frightening strength. He pulled her around and clasped her to him, doing all he could to hold her at bay.

"No Aimée, listen to me... it is the Affliction. It is telling you to do these things."

"Bullshit! This is me! I need this. Oh Claude, you feel so good. Touch me some more.

She clasped herself around him, burying her head in his neck. Frederique and Palo came dashing down the deck. Frederique seemed to take quicker stock of the situation. Palo was more confused.

Claude shared a knowing glance with his mother, and then looked to the sky.

"The moon," he whispered.

"Merde!" said Frederique, "She is awake."

"Of course she is awake," said Palo. "She is right here."

"No Palo, awake!"

"Mon dieu!" exclaimed Palo. "Get her below."

'"No! I beg you," pleaded Aimée, "Don't put me down there again, it will kill me. I need more. I need the men. Please?!"

"Come, my love," said Frederique. "We will talk more when we get to your cabin."

With a parent on each arm, Aimée couldn't have escaped if she wanted to, not against the combined strength of Palo and Frederique. Claude's heart went out to her, as she whimpered between them.

"No Mama, no Papa... I need things. I know it is wrong, but I must have them. I need men, Mama."

"I know, Cheri but do not despair, it isn't wrong."

"It's not?" she asked.

"Of course not, but let's get you back to your cabin and sort this out."

Claude followed them down, and watched sadly as they led her into her room and then stepped out to lock it.

"Just a few minutes," said Frederique reassuringly. "We just need to talk some things over."

"Don't take long, mother," Aimée pleaded.

"I won't, dear."

"What if she escapes?" asked Claude as Palo locked the door.

"She won't," said Palo. "These are council locks. Nothing gets in or out of them."

"What are we going to..." started Claude.

"You are going to go to your cabin," said Frederique. "We are going to have a discussion."

Claude almost argued, but caught the look from his mother which told him she would broach no contradictions. He shrugged and went into his room. He locked his door and went directly to the painting to view and listen in on his parent's conversation.

The first few minutes weren't all that productive, as Frederique stormed about her cabin cursing in six or seven different languages.

"I told them!" she screamed. "I told the council that we must have deplaceurs to transport us across. I told them an ocean voyage was unacceptable at this time of their lives. But no, they could not free the resources. 'What if they awaken?' I asked. 'The odds are slim' they argued. 'They are both nineteen,' I said. 'No worries,' they replied. Arrogant bastards, now look where we are."

"It isn't that bad," said Palo.

"Not that bad!" she screamed. "This is terrible. Did you see how close she was to the crew? What would we have done then? Dead sailors - maybe the whole crew. How much worse could this be? She must have a man."

"Nonsense," said Palo. "She can wait."

"Wait!?! She cannot wait!" shrieked Frederique.

"Of course she can. She's a woman, it is easier. We lock the door until New York, and sort it out there."

"Wrong answer, Palo. She must have a man, an Afflicted man. The first days of awakening are critical."

"There are no men," said Palo, adamantly.

"Yes, there are." She eyed him intently, holding her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

"Oh no you don't, woman. I have warned you not to go there."

"I have to go there. Give her Claude. Claude needs it too, he is...he is on the verge as well. They will help each other."

"Blasphemy!" he screamed.

"Blasphemy for what god? What god would create such a condition as this and deny the suffering relief?"

"It is unnatural!" Palo blustered.

Claude smiled at his own words echoing from his father's mouth and listened as his mother repeated her own theories.

"No!" shouted Palo.

"Very well," retorted Frederique. "If not Claude, then you. You go and comfort your daughter in the way she needs."

"You are an abomination!"

"Perhaps I am," said Frederique calmly, "but at least I am an abomination who is capable of rational thought and understanding. You. You are an abomination enfant."

"Enfant!?"

"Oui, a baby. Because only a baby would be so incapable of understanding..."

Just then, Frederique trailed off, an angry glimmer in her face.

"Yes," she muttered. "That will convince you, I am sure."

"What? What are you thinking?"

"You don't understand being denied these things. In the nearly fifty years we have been together, since even before our blood ceremony, I have never once denied you. Even when we've been apart, you have had partners."

"That is beside the point," said Palo, turning away from her.

"That is exactly the point," she said, grinning triumphantly. "If you will deny her this. I will deny you the same. You will get to see how it feels."

"Like you could resist," he said, taunting her.

"Oh, try me, Palo. Just try. I know. I made the journey from Europe to Morocco in the dark. Two months in basements and caves. I couldn't even fly for fear of detection. Two months with no Afflicted contact. Two months of drinking animal blood and satisfying myself with mortal men just to get through. It almost killed me, but I learned to survive. You have no chance. Now get out of my room."

"Your room?"

"Yes. My room. You will sleep in the storage room until you see some sense."

"No, I will stay here," he raged. "You take the storage room."

"We can do this two ways, Palo," she said, in a tone that frightened Claude, even through the wall. "You can go quietly, or I can force you."

"You could never force me," laughed Palo.

"Not physically, no. But do you really want to put yourself up against my powers? Are you so daft as to believe you would stand a chance?"

They stared each other down, not blinking. It was Palo who relinquished first.

"Very well, Frederique. But I keep the key to Aimée's room. I am the only one who is showing any restraint in this madness."

"If you say so, now get out."

Palo grabbed a blanket and pillow, and stormed out of the room. Claude heard him thunder down the hallway and slam the door to the store room.

Pounding began in the room next to him.

"Who was that?!" screamed Aimée from her room. "Where is everyone? Come and let me out!"

She pounded on the door of room, louder and louder. Her screams rising to screeches. Claude sat on his bed, covering his ears. He heard more motions in his mother's room, then footsteps. He opened his door to see his mother walking down the hallway, a wooden box in her hand. He stayed, watching, as his mother walked to the store room and tapped sternly on the door. Palo emerged.

"Back so soon?" he said, "I knew you wouldn't last."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Frederique. "I need to do something to help the poor girl. You need to let me in."

"Don't try anything funny," said Palo.

"You can keep the fucking key, Palo. Just let me in."

He did so, grumbling, and glared at Claude after he locked Frederique in as well.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped.

"Nothing," said Claude.

He shut his door and dashed to the woman's painting, pushing the right buttons for Aimée's room.

He listened intently, straining because his mother was whispering. The two sat beside each other on the bed.

"I am trying to get him to see reason, dearest. Once he does, you will suffer no more. First, let me try something."

Frederique leaned in and kissed Aimée tenderly on the lips. After a few seconds, Aimée pulled away.

"Mother...why would you do this?" Aimée asked confusedly.

"No good reason. It is as I thought. You like boys. Not that there was much doubt, but I thought I would check."

"Check for what?" asked Aimée, confused.

"Aimée, listen to me..."

Frederique proceeded to give much the same lecture as the night before. She told Aimée of the Affliction and the needs it had. As her mother finished, the emotions playing across Aimée's face were so similar to his own, Claude had to smile.

"So you see; we are in a very difficult situation. When you first awaken, your hunger is ravenous. You need to be with an Afflicted a partner who is Afflicted.

"Why not ordinary men? I could sleep with some sailors."

"It would only make it worse. The Affliction knows its own and would be very dissatisfied with mortals. You would have to bite them. In fact, you would have no choice."

"But mother... Claude?"

"Or your father."

"Disgusting."

"Mon dieu, I grow tired of this conversation! We are not human, daughter. We do not live by their rules and we do what we must to survive. Leave your father out of this. Think of Claude. Do you find him unattractive?"

"No, I suppose he is handsome enough."

"Don't suppose," said Frederique. "Concentrate - think of him with only your base instincts. Get your mind and the conservative upbringing your father has given you out of the way."

Aimée tried, closing her eyes. She soon smiled.

"Do you see?" asked Frederique, "He could soothe you, no?"

"Oui. Let me go to him. Now."

Claude felt his pulse rushing, his cock hardening at the prospect of holding Aimée in his arms.

"We must wait. We will wear your father down," she said. "For now, I have some things I hope might help. Tell me Aimée, have you ever pleasured yourself?

"A few times," said Aimée, blushing, "though I've never felt the need that often."

"But you know how things work, yes?"

"Of course, mother."

"Good girl. Look in here."

Frederique opened the small wooden chest to reveal the contents therein. She pulled out two cloth bags, a larger one and one smaller one.

"This is very ancient." Frederique pulled a large wooden cylinder out of the first bag. "This was once attached to a statue of Priapus in Crete. Countless women have pleasured themselves with this. It has served me well. Here is some oil to help with it." Removing the next one, she showed Aimée a gorgeous glass dildo, which was amazingly lifelike.

"This was made by the finest glassmaker in London. It is modeled after - well, after a very wonderful man. Last, is this."

She pulled out a small silver disk, no bigger than a pocket watch. "This is a recent invention, just wind it and put it..."

Palo pounded on the door, shouting. "What's taking you so long in there, woman?"

"I'm almost done, brut! What does it matter to you, anyway -- you won't be seeing me."

She continued. "Anyway, wind this one... and touch the right place, you'll be very surprised."

Frederique rose, hugging her daughter.

"Aimée, I know exactly how you feel. I hope this helps, but I must warn you."

"Warn me of what?"

"Warn you that this will feel wonderful but it might do more harm than good when it is done."

"I don't understand," said Aimée.