Cesare pushed down harder, practically pivoting on his vertical stand.
She groaned out a long exclamation which at first was formless and then managed to transform itself into a stifled “Daaarling!”
His penis was pinched and contracted in her deep passage. It felt as if sparks were being squeezed out of it, as if it were being squeezed into little sections, each with its own burning light.
Cesare moaned with the tight excruciating excitement of it and put his arms around and under her, grasping her breasts, slightly flattened against the bed, and began to squeeze and pull them.
Lucrezia uttered a little scream and he felt her undulating under him, her buttocks rising and falling, wriggling and squirming against the hairy flesh of his loins.
The relief he'd felt at shoving his penis at last into the soft receptacle of his sister's body began to fade and its place was taken by a gnawing pressure which was growing agony.
He rose and fell on her with long deep strokes, pushing right up in a tearing invasion of her posterior passage.
His mouth opened of its own accord and his breath barked out. Under him, muffled in the coverlet he heard Lucrezia's little screams of passion and he strengthened his grip on her breasts which seemed to expand and resist him. Up and down, in and out he sawed into her, feeling his organ rasp against the warm walls of her fleshy channel. He wanted still more of her and, without coming out of her, he struggled up onto his knees, pulling her up with him so that she was kneeling with her buttocks in an arc towards him, their bodies joined by the single erect bridge.
Her body curved away from him, her head still resting on the coverlet. She arched her back like a stretching cat and rolled her buttocks in all directions in abandon. He caught her buttocks in each hand and pinched up the flesh, holding it in handfuls, squeezing it furiously as he drove in, wanting to hurt her, to communicate to her the ecstasy of pain and delight in which he was plunged.
He rammed his penis in and then waggled his hips around against her stretched, naked buttocks, feeling the warmth of the friction spring up between them.
To Lucrezia it seemed that there was nothing to her body but loins and buttocks. Her loins were afire and her behind was a gaping cavern into which all of Cesare seemed to have plunged. It seemed that all her entrails had been pushed aside to leave only a great empty, palpitating space in which he moved thickly and expanded with more and more fury.
Ramming in, Cesare was caught on a rhythmic tide of movement in which there seemed to be no thought, no mind, only wild, orgiastic movement and loin-tearing sensation. His penis was chafed and burning and seemed to be still growing, thickening in its every particle, stiffening still when it had seemed utterly stiff before.
His gasps came with rhythmic regularity. Every in-stroke pulled breath from his mouth.
He leaned forward, grasping her tiny waist which seemed so fragile under the voluptuous hips that it looked as if it might snap. He held it on either side, gripping it fiercely, revelling in the feel of the tight flesh and the power that he felt in having her body completely at his command. He pressed her waist down against the bed, forcing it to yield. He drew back and rammed into her with shattering force so that her head grazed forward along the coverlet. He drew back again and shattered in again, tearing into her brutally, savagely, hearing her cry out, losing his whole rigid length in her with a single long thrust. As he drove in he pulled her waist toward him so that her round buttocks crushed back to meet his thrust and helped his searing entry.
He varied his stroke, giving short, quick little thrusts in a quick series and then he reverted to long, slow strokes, bringing from her a fresh gasp or groan with every variation of pressure and movement.
“Oh, oh, oh? I'm coming!”
Her wailing moan came up to him and he gritted his teeth in the brutal ecstasy. His fury had produced her orgasm.
He hurried himself, tensing his loins, grinding his inside, with mental and physical aid, feeling the knot of sensation tighten and complicate in his genitals.
He heard her gasp several short, furious emissions of breath. She rammed back at him as if he couldn't penetrate her enough and then she gave out a long, wild wail which slowly choked and faded into a background of groaning whimpers.
Now, now, now, he told himself as he heaved and bucked over her buttocks which still undulated around him.
He gnashed his teeth, feeling the climax upon him. He pushed her waist flat down toward the bed, wanting to destroy her in the sadistic urge which his near orgasm sent quivering and tumulting through his whole body so that even his toes seemed to tingle with it.
He wanted to split her right apart. He couldn't tell what he wanted. He wanted to go further to achieve some end to his thrusting which he had not yet achieved.
Almost crying with the excruciation of sensation, he knew the end was coming up. It twirled and spun in his genitals, growing into a great, inexorable force. And with a great, hot, slippery outrush it spiralled through his depths, raced like a sharp pain along his pounding rod and broke out in a wild mob of scattering sperm which lashed up and around deep inside her.
He collapsed over her and after a while they rolled over and lay exhausted in each other's arms.
“Darling, I don't think dear Alphonse would have been quite capable, somehow,” Lucrezia said softly at last.
Cesare smiled and began gently and expertly to caress her breasts.
CHAPTER 17
When some days later Lucrezia Borgia rode north with her young husband it was as if the lucky star of the Borgia family had left with her. Ominous clouds were gathering to change the fortunes which never seemed to have been so high as at this moment with Cesare, Duke of Romagna and the Pope on good terms with Louis and Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain.
Cesare's dreams at this time were centered on the consolidation for himself of a kingdom which would comprise all of central Italy. Vaulting ambition was already beginning to o'erleap itself in his heart. He glimpsed in those dreams of his a conquest even further which would eventually drive both the Spanish and the French from Italy, leaving the whole peninsula in his hands. And then perhaps? Who could say that the glory of the Roman Empire was dead forever…?
At first it seemed that his campaign might succeed. He accomplished what amounted to almost the total subjugation of the Camerino in the space of a very few weeks. But the very fact of his growing power was breeding him more and more enemies? and more and more powerful enemies. Tuscany, Venice and Florence were all worried by the enlarging weight of his mailed fist and agreements were come to between them in preparation for future action. Milan, too, joined the league and rumor had it that the only thing that kept Louis XII himself out of Italy and a containment of the Borgian realm, was that he still needed the Pope's favor in connection with Naples? where the spoils of war were being violently disputed, between the victorious contestants.
Rebellions were provoked among Cesare's mercenaries, by his enemies, for offered reward. He found himself moving hither and yon over Italy crushing first one and then another, growing weary and uncertain in the process.
Although he returned eventually to Rome with a semblance of order in his territories, he knew that powerful Venice was stayed from attacking him only by doubts as to which side the King of France would take in the event of war.
A short time after his return to Rome both Cesare and the Pope fell ill of a mysterious fever which, it was thought, may have been the result of poisoning deliberately designed by their enemies.
The beginnings of their sickness could be traced to a dinner given in the Vatican by the Pope for a number of his cardinals.
So corrupted was the Church from earlier ideals that it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that one of his own ambitious and envious cardinals had contrived to slip some poison into the wine that was drunk and had intended Cesare to be affected also as his temporal power was sufficient to “arrange” the next papacy should his father die.