“Oh, oh, you beauty?you slave!” he shouted, his voice broken with ecstatic fury.
Lucrezia, pain shooting between her thighs, winced at his words. She had never been taken thus. She was virtually being raped. She hated the man who was joined in one flesh with her.
Her passage was so dry that his penis scraped and drubbed it so that it seemed to her he must be drawing blood. She relaxed. It was too painful not to, and gradually her channel moistened a little and his progress became easier and with it her comfort greater.
Julius was determined to be brutal. Watching the old man die and going to the devil, breaking Cesare's power and getting him imprisoned were not made of the same physical revenge as this?this flesh-to-flesh punishment and chastisement of the living body.
He saw the disgust and self-hatred in her face and the hatred of himself and it increased his appetite for savagery so that he crashed his prick into her with all the force of his loins, so that their crotches met in a smack which was bruising and made her cry out.
He pushed her thighs out and up so that they were waving at first out over the bed and then crushed back against her shoulders. She was doubled up under him, twisted and pain-racked, with her naked toes against the sides of his hips and the whole pressure of his upraised body meeting hers at the out-curved point of his loins, culminating in the stiff tree of organ that rammed into her with increasing force and vigor.
Forgotten, out in the next room, with his fine view of the proceedings, Cardinal Rimini was beside himself. He had never in his wildest dreams hoped to see even the breast of such a woman as Lucrezia Borgia. And now to be seeing all?and to be seeing it in operation. It was too much for a man to bear.
On the bed, Lucrezia felt as if she were suffocating under the narrow, bony body of her invader. His prick, digging to its full depth in her, seemed to be splitting her passage, to be tearing away layers of it in a painful, sickening, widening process.
He was mouthing oaths and wild expressions of his power over her. He called her names, harlot names and spat words like “fuck” and “cunt” at her as if they would physically hurt her.
Hurt and seared with pain, Lucrezia moved her head from side to side, biting her lips. His words humiliated her and in conjunction with having her legs cramped and defenseless as she lay naked on her back under him and felt his penis filling her loins with a persistent, drubbing, dominating rhythm, the humiliation was overwhelming.
His hands pulled and twisted her breasts as he undulated on her. He made them into weird shapes and she cried out with protest at the pain and tried to wriggle free. But she seemed to be pinned to the bed as with a spear by his enormous fleshy weapon. Her body was being ransacked, torn and turned inside out for the savage pleasure of an old enemy who had her at his mercy.
She opened her eyes and saw his eyes on her face, taking in her fear and horror. His eyes were mad with lust and triumph and his mouth twisted into an ugly gash of sadism from which burst roaring explosions of passion as he speared her.
Lucrezia closed her eyes again to keep the sight of him away from her, but its image followed her eyes, creeping under the closed lids, making a picture in the darkness, which the physical touch of his rapacious taking of her body seemed to hold in position no matter how she tried to thrust it out.
She heard him growing frantic with excitement and her crotch and lower buttocks were aching where his loins around that protruding sword rammed at them. There was pain and aching and hatred all contained in a melting pot which was her vagina.
And suddenly there was something else. Her head had been caught by hot hands and, while Julius still drummed into her with frenzy, a hot, pliable-feeling penis was wormed into her mouth which opened in astonishment.
The excitement of watching had become too much for Cardinal Rimini. The soothing touch of his own hand on his prick was not soothing enough. He needed something cooler, something more foreign, some part of the luscious fruit of a woman on the bed to coax his juices from him.
For several minutes he had stood, trembling, fondling his organ in the doorway in full view of their unseeing eyes. He had gone through fear and desire in quick succession, alternately several times, until he could stand it no more. He would risk the Pope's displeasure. The woman was obviously in no position to resist.
With a guilty, scuffling movement, he had rushed to the bedside, seized her face and thrust himself into her mouth.
His eyes took in the Pope as he did so and the Pope nodded and he said through his gasps: “Take care of him Lucrezia, or I'll recall the letter.”
Infamy, infamy. Lucrezia felt a tear roll from her eye. She was helpless and chastened. To be doing this against her will and with these men who had brought about her brother's downfall. The tears were rage and humiliation, with the rage suppressed of necessity.
She began to work. The sooner it was over the better.
On top of her still, the Pope had slipped his hands under her buttocks, raising them slightly off the bed and was- squeezing them so hard that it made her cry out. He was gasping and groaning in a wild excresence of sound and his loins were not only pummelling at her but undergoing contortions in every direction as well.
The object in her mouth had bloated until she could hardly breathe. She bit it with-a sudden supreme fury at what was being forced on her and the bite brought a wild, wavering cry from the lips of Cardinal Rimini.
Lucrezia, still struggling for breath, looked up at the Pope. Her pelvis was numb with its buffeting and her quim was a raging area of pain. She saw his head go back and then come forward sharply so that his eyes could look at her. The eyes dilated and he emitted a shrill gasp as he came into the pain that he'd caused her. There was savage conquest in his eyes and the thought that this man's sperm was a great lake in her belly was the final humiliation.
CHAPTER 20
“Mate!” said Cesare, as he moved his knight, exposing the clear path between his castle and his opponent's king. Count Benavente sighed and then smiled.
“I begin to understand why your enemies find you such a redoubtable opponent,” he said. “May I never be among them.”
“Come, your mind wasn't on the play.”
Count Benavente, who had been a frequent visitor to Cesare's confinement quarters these last few weeks, pushed back his chair from the table and stood up, looking not at Cesare but at the chessboard. He walked away after a second or two and stared out of the narrow window to the flat, green land a hundred or more feet below. Cesare watched him without speaking.
“I was thinking,” the Count said, “of the matter we mentioned a few days ago.”
Cesare glanced quickly at the door and then back at the Count.
“It's too well guarded,” he said quietly. “You'd need an army.”
“For once I believe I'm right and you're wrong,” the Count continued. “But of course I know the place and the people in a way you couldn't possibly.”
Cesare didn't answer. It was clear the Count had been mulling over some plan. Best let him speak. He liked the Count, who was a good, upright man and one of the most powerful lords in this part of Spain. He was aware, too, that in some way he fascinated the man, who had lost no opportunity of visiting, talking to and playing chess with him once their acquaintanceship had been made.
“I think, in fact…” At this point the Count, too, turned and glanced at the heavy wooden door which was closed. “I think you could be away from here within a few days.”
Cesare quickened with interest. This sounded like something concrete. If he could get out of this fortress he'd start immediately to find ways and means of getting back to Italy for the re-conquest of his realms? and then death to anyone who tried to stop him. He had many accounts to settle.