Camilla Ch. 081byMawrGorshin©
Late on Tuesday night, after Camilla had finished committing incest with Agape, he used his psychic powers to put himself completely to sleep; a deep sleep would put that whole sordid affair out of his mind...for a while, at least. He wasn't yet ready to confront his daughter with his awareness of her surreptitious lewdness.
In his dream, he saw Collette in the mansion, now burning, with the sight of groups of naked lovers engaging in group sex all around him and his ex-wife.
"I'm so sorry, Aga," she said. "Camilla's always been a bad girl."
"She wasn't before our divorce," he insisted. "I'm sure her seeing you and your swinger friends over the years since our divorce is what made her what she is today."
"It was more than that," she said. "I tried to control her. I thought putting her in an all-girls Catholic high school would make up for what she'd seen all those early years. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. She's out of control."
Behind her, Agape could see a group of men in grotesque masks laughing eerily at him.
On Wednesday morning, he woke up sitting on his living room chair, where Camilla had left him. His lap was wet with her remaining come: in her wasted state the night before, she'd forgotten to clean him up properly. With this mess, he could at least prove his case against her, and stop her lies and denials once and for all.
By separating and distancing him from his feelings and moral judgement, that 'psychic window' he'd created to watch her fucking him the night before was still protecting him from the emotional pain of what she'd done. Nonetheless, he would have to remove that window, and face his trauma: being jaded and emotionless about what she'd done was as wicked an attitude as the deed was. Apathy was a totally unacceptable reaction to his unwitting incest with her. Apathy was a terrible emotion to begin with. As horrible as it would be to feel their shame with all his emotions unrestrained, he still had to confront his feelings...he had to have feelings about what she'd done, or else he wouldn't be human.
First, he called the English faculty at York and told them he was sick, and wouldn't be able to teach his classes that day. Then he went up into his bedroom, sat on his bed, and meditated.
He visualized smashing the 'glass' of that psychic window; it took all of his bravery to do so. After a minute of intense concentration, the barrier that had been protecting his ego from his moral judgement was shattered, and he felt his shame flooding all over himself in an awesome tsunami. The eyes and mouth of Agape were agape with the horror of it all.
"Oh, my God!" he screamed. "How could she do that to me?! Why? Why?" He was wailing, sobbing, and shaking all over.
Camilla woke up in her bedroom with a start at his crying. She covered her nakedness with a bathrobe and ran into his bedroom. Already, she correctly sensed what the problem was, but she wasn't at all willing to admit her fault in it.
"Daddy," she said, coming up to him. "Are you OK? Try to calm down. Whatever you do, don't think despairing thoughts, or be afraid. Whatever the problem is, we can make it better." She brought her hand up to his shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" he yelled. "Never touch me!"
"Yes, sir," she said timidly, backing up with fear, and knowing exactly what he meant by that.
He took a minute to calm down. Then he looked her in the eyes and said, "Camilla, I know what you've been doing with me."
"Wait, Daddy, do you mean when you saw Candice on top of you last night? It was--"
"Don't lie to me! Stop pretending you're innocent. Admit what you did. It was you, not her."
"Wh-what you saw...was a dream." She was crying.
"Come on, Camilla. That lie is getting so old. I'm wet all over my lap. None of it is me. It's all you, and you know it."
"Let...let me explain. I--"
"Ever since you returned to my life, I've been developing...some kind of strange power. Suddenly, I can cure my own hangovers in a heartbeat, just by wishing them away. You once cured a hangover of mine, I remember, by simply tapping me on the shoulder; the pain was gone in seconds. This mental anguish you've caused me, though, it won't go away so easily."
"It would if you stopped thinking of it as a sin. Open--"
"Ridiculous!" he snapped. "Without the need of this power, I've suspected that you were doing what you were doing, but I kept hoping my suspicions weren't true. Now I can't deny it any more."
"Daddy," she said in sobs, "This power can heal your shame, too."
"I don't want it to! We should be ashamed of ourselves, otherwise, we're not human. But this power, it allows me to...read minds, it seems, or at least sense people's thoughts. I sense that you can, too. I can influence people's thoughts...I know you can, too, but I don't know how we can do this. This power is...sexually transmitted, isn't it?"
"You can do good things with it, though..."
"That's how I got this power, didn't I? You passed it on to me through your...oh, God, ejaculations?"
"Tell me the truth, dammit!" he shouted.
"Let me explain,..." Camilla said, shaking.
"Yes! Daddy, yes! I love you, Daddy. I've always loved you. These things inside me made me love you even more, though. I--I tried to fight it, but I couldn't. I'm in love with you. I know it seems sick, but..."
"Seems sick? It is sick!" he cried, his face drowning in tears. "You're in love with me, but you have lesbian sex with Candice, right in front of me? You took a man up to your bedroom a month ago and had sex with him, and you've been 'in love' with me the whole time, the last man on earth you should be in love with?"
"I--I can't control myself," she said, also with a face drenched in tears. "These things, they make me always want sex; I starve for it every day."
"What are 'these things'?" he asked, now no longer crying.
"They're in our blood, tiny, microscopic black ovoid things."
"Bacteria? A virus of some kind?"
"I don't know," she said, calming down and no longer crying. "A doctor I know in Vancouver who also has them in his blood thinks they're aliens from another planet."
Agape rolled his eyes and said, "I don't know what planet I'm on right now."
"Daddy? Can I have a hug?" She timidly approached him.
"No," he said firmly, putting out his hand and psychically creating a force field to block her.
"Just an innocent hug, Daddy. Please? Nothing sexual."
"Please don't keep me from you. Let me kiss your mouth. I love you." She tried breaking the barrier, but he kept it strong. "Let me kiss your mouth. Daddy, please! I'll die of despair if I never touch you again!"
"Camilla, you're sick. Sick in your mind. I'm arranging for you to see a psychiatrist as soon as possible. You're also moving out."
"No, Daddy. Please!" she yelled, crying again.
"Carrie is moving in, and she and I are engaged to be married."
"Oh, God, no! Not her! Please, Daddy. Don't marry her; she isn't right for you."
"Oh, and you are, eh?" he asked with a sneer.
"Daddy, she's old, and I'm young. I'm a much better lover than she could ever be, and I have a really nice body. Let me show it to you." She started undoing her bathrobe.
"No, I don't want to see," he said, psychically freezing her hands and not letting her open the robe to display her nudity.
"Daddy, please don't marry her. Don't make me leave. I couldn't bear it! I wanna be your lover."
"Please! Open your mind to it! We can keep our love a secret. Nobody will ever know."
"I will know! We will know!" he shouted, crying again.
"It's only society that says incest is wrong!"
"God says it's wrong!"
"No! That's just the rules of the Church, not God."
"Please open your mind to what I can do for you," she said frantically. "I can make you feel so good in bed, Daddy. I can drive you wild, be any fantasy you dream about. I'll be faithful, too. I'll give up all my other lovers for you."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" he asked.
"Open your mind, please! Homosexuality used to be condemned, now gays can get married. Who knows? Maybe in a few decades, people can come to accept our kind of love."
"You're positively insane," he said in sobs. "Oh, my poor baby girl!"
"Don't marry Carrie, please! She could never love you the way I do. She could never please you in bed the way I can." She gritted her teeth and smiled lewdly at him. "Believe me, I am such a little whore under the sheets."
"Stop it!" he shouted, slapping her. "Shut up!"
"I--I love you so much." She sobbed softly.
"You don't know anything about love. With you, it's all sex and no love. How could you do such a filthy thing to me? How could you even want to?"
"I just wanted to please you."
"Please me? You've shamed me. You've shamed me. You've shamed both of us." He started walking toward the bedroom door.
"Please, Daddy, let me convince you."
"We're not having this conversation! Today is your last day in this house." He went out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and out of the house to get in his car.
She buckled down to the ground, shaking. That heavy weight was on her back again, like a pile of rocks holding her down. She knew that without Agape, she would plunge into despair; that would lead to her death, and an eternal nightmare of being gang-raped by masked incubi and those Vancouver punks. Fucking, forever and ever and ever. Even she needed a rest from that from time to time. As hopeless as the situation seemed to be, she couldn't allow herself to despair.
She reminded herself that she had been given a great, divine gift, the power of the 'sons of God'. Nigrovum had given her abilities most people couldn't even dream of. She wasn't defeated yet; she just had to bring that power of hers to its fullest potential. She had to use her imagination and think of a subtle plan, a brilliant plan to get Agape to love her, accept having an incestuous relationship with her, and remove all other hurdles to the realization of their love.
She kept the hope in her mind that he had the same sexual feelings for her, deep down in his subconscious--those feelings just hadn't surfaced yet. She used this desperate hope to raise her spirits, inch by inch, and to remove those psychic 'rocks' on her back that were weighing her down.
She could feel herself less and less weighed down, and she slowly regained her strength, and got up from the floor. Sensing how her father had dealt with the trauma of knowing what she'd done, she decided to do the same thing with her own emotional pain: she put psychic dome around herself, a barrier that would shield her from the agony of his rejection. This would allow her to have the patience she'd need to think clearly and come up with a plan to get him back.
Indeed, she reassured herself that she would get him back, and get him to love her in the same physical way as she loved him. The first obstacle to be rid of was, of course, Carrie...
Agape was in his car, just driving and driving aimlessly down some open roads. As he was driving, he searched for a radio station that would play some music that could help him take his mind of what Camilla had done; instead, all he got were cruel reminders. First, he heard 'Young Girl', by Gary Puckett.
'My love for you is way out of line.'
"No, I don't want to hear that," he said, and quickly changed stations.
Then he heard 'Don't Stand So Close to Me', by the Police.
'This girl is half his age.'
"Oh, God," he said, and immediately switched to another station, an alternative station that played oldies.
He heard 'Brown Shoes Don't Make It', by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention.
The drummer lecherously said, 'If she were my daughter, I'd...'
"Oh, I give up!" he shouted, turning the radio off. What's the attraction? he thought; Why would Camilla have incestuous feelings for me? Am I simply forbidden fruit? Surely a pretty girl like her would much rather have a handsome young man instead of an aging man like me, father or no father. Maybe when she sees a psychiatrist, we'll get some answers.
He eventually drove to his church. He went inside, and went inside a confessional.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned..." he began.
Once Camilla had completely calmed down, she called Father Josiah.
"Hello?" he said on his cell-phone.
"It's me, Camilla. Do you still want me, Father?" she asked.
"Yes, of course," he eagerly said.
"I know this is sudden, but can I move in with you?"
"Yes, yes, of course. When do you want to come over?"
"Is tomorrow OK?"
"I already can't wait," he said. "Come here with all your things in the morning."
"Thanks, Father," she said. "I'll be at your door around 11 AM. Bye."
His hopes of marrying her, and saving her soul (as well as redeeming his) were suddenly resurrected.
"Thank you, Lord," he said, looking upwards.
On Thursday morning, Camilla brought her bag of things with her to Father Josiah's home. They went into his bedroom, she put the bag down, and they sat on the bed, her on his lap.
He sensed her emotional numbness, and correctly feeling that it was unhealthy, he tried to break her psychic 'dome' down. She wouldn't let him at first, but knowing that her tears would likely make him want to fuck her, the sex-starved girl removed the dome herself.
She started crying; he held her tightly in his arms, and rocked her back and forth on his lap. "Tell me all about it, sweetie," he said soothingly. "What happened at home?"
"I had a fight with my daddy," she sobbed, her head on his shoulder. "He doesn't want me to live with him anymore. I'll go crazy without him."
"Well, you're with me now," he said. Though he knew what the problem was between her and Agape, he was hoping for a confession from her. "What happened between you and your father?"
"I don't wanna talk about it. Please hold me, Father. Hold me."
"Of course, sweetie," he said, hugging her tighter and trying to ignore his erection. "I quit the priesthood yesterday, so our love wouldn't be sinful."
"What?" she asked, pulling back. "But that makes you less sexy to me."
"I can become an Anglican vicar, if you like."
"Oh, let's just make love."
"Alright," he said, and they started getting undressed. "Why's your hair all black?"
"Remember that power we both have?" she asked, unzipping her green, flower-patterned dress.
"It made my hair and eyes turn black. That's why my skin is paler, too." Her dress dropped to the floor. She kicked off her high heels; wearing no underwear, she was now naked. "If you don't like the way I look, I can change it back." She got on the bed on her back.
"No, that's OK," he said, now naked too. "Black is a nice change, I think. Besides, I'm getting a little black myself. You should see my fingernails and toenails." He got on top of her in the missionary position. She lifted her legs up, ready to receive his cock in either hole. He, of course, would only choose her vagina, and he slowly slid his cock inside.
As it went in deeper and deeper, her sobs changed to sighs of pleasure. He got all the way in, and she squealed with delight. This was the first cock she'd felt inside her since she'd fucked her father. For the time being, Father Josiah would have to do as a substitute. He slid his cock in and out several times, and she came all over the sheets. "Ah!"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot...about your gushing," he said, still moving in and out of her pussy. "Oh!"
"Just keep...fucking me. Ah!"
"Please, watch your language," he moaned. "Unh!"
"Don't stop. Oh!" She came a second time.
He put his hands on her breasts and gently squeezed them. He reached over and pecked her on the lips. "I'm...almost there," he sighed.
"Pull it out. Oh!"
"OK," he said, and slowly let his cock slide out of her soaking wet pussy. She sat up and took his cock in her hand. She jerked him off, pointing the tip of his cock at her belly. Her gentle hand slid back and forth along his shaft. Then he spouted all over her right tit, her belly, her black pubic hair, and her thigh.
They lay next to each other on their backs and cuddled. After a minute or so of them catching their breath, she said, "Thank you, Father. I needed that." She reset that psychic 'dome'.
"So did I, as sinful as it was," he said. "It would have been better if I'd...discharged inside you, though."
Exploiting his foolish hopes, she said, "But we can't do that unless we're married."
He smiled slightly at those words. She would say no more, though: she was playing her cards very carefully.
On Friday, Camilla, with her hair blonde again, and wearing heavy makeup and a tight-fitting black dress, went to see Dr. Marlow Rosenblood, a psychiatrist in his late forties. Camilla didn't at all want to bare her soul to such a man, but she went anyway, out of a wish to show obedience to her father, now the only way she could show him her love. She was delighted, however, to see how good-looking the psychiatrist was, tall and thin, with streaks of silver in his wavy brown hair.
I do pick the right days to dress like a slut, she thought.
She sat on a chair facing him. He had a notebook and a pen in his hands.
"OK, Camilla," Dr. Rosenblood began. "Feel free to say anything you like. Do not feel at all inhibited. Even if you say rude things, I won't care. Let your natural feelings flow: that way I can better understand your thought processes."
"I can even say things that are...possibly offensive?" she asked in disbelief.
"If you don't like my tie, or my nose, feel free to say so. Even antisemitic remarks won't bother me."
"Wow, you're really secure, aren't you?"
"You can say nice things, too, of course. The point is, whatever's on your mind, just say it. Don't be shy."
"OK," she said, getting up and moving towards him slowly, with a lewd smile. "You tell me: what's on my mind?"
"You can say anything, not do anything," he said, motioning to her to go back to her chair.
"Oh, come on, Doctor. Let's have some fun. I won't tell if you don't."
"Camilla, why don't you take a look at the photo on my desk?" he suggested.
She looked at the picture: it showed Rosenblood hugging a man.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, backing off. Then she paused thoughtfully, and tried her cat moves on him again. "I'll bet, in the right circumstances, a woman could bring the animal out of you." She was kneeling before his chair, her fingers tickling his hands. She also started using Nigrovum on him to give him an erection.
Surprised at what was happening, Rosenblood nonetheless used strong willpower to resist her. "A tiger can't change his stripes, Camilla."
"He can crawl into a different cave every now and then, though."
"Camilla," he said firmly, taking her hands and pushing them back. "Back in your chair, please."
She went back and sat on her chair like a petulant, spoiled child.
"You obviously use your sexuality to hide your real self from people. I'm here to uncover the secrets of your mind; you just want to uncover your body. Even when you learn that I'm gay, you try to convince me to spend a 'straight' night with you. You want to avoid talking about your problems so much, you'll stop at nothing to use sex to change the subject."
"Yeah, whatever," she said, pouting and avoiding his eyes.
"When your father insisted on making our appointment as soon as possible, I could hear a lot of anxiety in his voice," the psychiatrist said. "Why don't you tell me about your relationship with him? Or, if your prefer, perhaps it would be easier if you talked instead about your mother. What about her?"