Giuffredo, quite unaware of his mistake, pushed his penis deeper and deeper into the unseen gulf which seemed to hold and suck it in like a whirlpool, refusing to let it withdraw without difficulty.
A million sharp pins seemed to attack his tender organ. It felt sore with the effort of penetration, yet the soreness was an exciting wonderful sensation. He kept his hand on Lucrezia's hip as she lay before him and he dug his fingers into her flesh, intense with his passion.
He no longer looked around him either. He didn't care. His movement was compatible with that of a horse-rider. His main difficulty as he jerked his hips sharply and surreptitiously up at the hole, which was sucking his soul through his body, was to prevent gasps and moans from breaking through his lips. The effort was as excruciating as the crushing of his prick down there under the skirt.
His jerking seemed to get naturally faster. He found that his penis seemed to lead him, working and throbbing with its own life. It was being swallowed in Lucrezia. He could feel the flesh of his loins around his genitals touching the smooth flesh of her bottom which wiggled ever so slightly and secretly against him.
The horse cantered on. Its loud clip-clopping drowning the scarcely controlled noise of Giuffredo's growing passion. Around their horse the men-at-arms scrutinized only the darkness on either side, watching for lawless bands of robbers.
Giuffredo jogged-a natural jogging with the, horse. Lucrezia was still, lying along the horse's neck apparently asleep-except for that secretive squirming of her buttocks back against his prick under the sheltering skirt.
Gradually Giuffredo's loins became transformed into a mass of sensation such as he'd never felt before. So this was it! His loins were no longer flesh and blood but some strange, unearthly substance which glowed and burned in its own fire.
He felt himself becoming more and more helpless down in those nether regions. He could hardly disguise his audible passion and every so often a barking gasp broke through his lips and he tried to cover it with a cough. The burning sensation down there was carrying him along with it. He no longer guided, no longer had control. His loins were running away with him. It was excruciating delight and rather frightening as if he were about to have his blood sucked out of his body through his penis.
He felt, ridiculously that at this stage he should stop before something terrible happened. But now it was too late; he was no longer able to. The mouth was sucking and sucking, drawing his blood into his prick, filling it, making it heavy and painful. His prick seemed to have swollen to enormous proportions. He heard Lucrezia give a slight gasp into the horse's mane. He jerked harder, harder. He felt as if his prick were splitting, peeling back in two parts from that small opening at its head, peeling back to let the blood shoot out. He gasped again, trying desperately to cover his noises. The horse jogged and his penis rammed up into the hole. Again, again, he gasped again, finally- and then he bit his lips smothering his groans in the depths of his throat as he felt the sudden release of a wet, sticky substance flowing from him, leaving him after a few moments weak j and almost unable to hold the reins.
Now that it was over and Lucrezia sat up as if she'd just awakened from sleep, he felt r acutely embarrassed. His embarrassment be- k came wholesale confusion a little later when his sister confided in him what had happened. But she assured him it had been quite pleasant for her and was so open and provocative in her speech that his shame finally left him. When they reached the Orsini Palace after another hour's ride, he managed to slip into his quarters and change his hose-under the pretext of caring for his horse. On the whole he felt glad, and excited at the new future the day had opened up for him.
CHAPTER 5
Innocent VIII lay on his back forming images in his head of his past loves and what he had done with them. That was what he regretted more than anything about his present illness: his doctors had strongly warned him of the danger of any exercise, which had cut out the possibility of having Caterina, his favorite courtesan, brought to satisfy his needs. In spite of his weakness, his sensuality had not left him. In fact, spending all day lying on his back imagining his lovers in all sorts of positions seemed merely to have added to that aspect of his being.
Every so often he thought about the niece that Cardinal Roderigo had told him about. It was so frustrating he could have wept. Now the most he could do was grant her audience and rue the fact that he had not been able to, and would not be able to enjoy her sexually. What a loss! The thought made his stomach turn over. A virgin, beautiful, had said she would do anything for him-even to the extreme of giving herself over to the lusts of the flesh. It needed only a word from him. Innocent felt like weeping, again. Was she as beautiful as Cardinal Roderigo claimed? Could she really have a woman's development at such a youthful age? Anyway he hoped it would not be long before she came to him and then he could truly wallow in self-pity at what he had missed.
For Innocent really doubted his capacity to recover from his present malady-his capacity to recover enough. He saw himself spending the remainder of his life in a continuous convalescence. He would, of course, be waited on hand and foot, and other people would take care of the running of the State although he would hold absolute power still. It was a not unpleasant existence, one that appealed to him. Again the one thing he regretted was his inability to drown himself in the delicious torment of sexual intercourse. But, after all, if he really took great care of himself, perhaps someday…
He clapped his hands and an attendant came around from a screen at the far end of the room.
The attendant bowed and withdrew to reappear almost immediately with a large silver salver piled high with fruit.
Innocent began to eat the grapes slowly, spitting the pips out onto the floor. His fingers caressed the taut, cool skin of each morsel. It reminded him of Caterina's breasts-her whole body. If only
… He cursed suddenly to himself and flung a half eaten grape petulantly across the floor.
Cardinal Roderigo had lost no time in arranging for Lucrezia to return to Rome. The sooner he found himself in St. Peter's chair the safer he would feel.
He had spent a week or two sounding out his situation. It seemed a good one on the face of it. The Medici, who had long been friendly to the House of Borgia, were for him. Venice, Mantua, Genoa, Siena, the Orsini all were for him. Naples doubted him, rightly fearing the possibility of an alliance between him and Charles VIII of France, whose designs on the Neapolitan kingdom were well known. The French themselves favored Cardinal della Rovere as next Pope, but Roderigo was certain that with judicious gifts they could be won over and withdraw their strong backing of their candidate. Now seemed to be as good a time as any for dealing a death blow to Innocent, who, after all, was serving no good purpose lying sick in his bed with the anarchy of his misrule spread around him.
Lucrezia arrived back in Rome with a small cortege of attendants. The city was still given to the ravages of lawlessness and she made haste to her father's house.
There he had her stay for several days, instructing her in what she must do, explaining the necessity of Innocent's removal if the city and state were to survive-and enjoying Lucrezia's body himself the while.
With Lucrezia clear as to the exact-and fairly simple — nature of her duty, audience was arranged between her and the Pope.
Cardinal Roderigo had her dressed for the occasion in richly embroidered, but simple clothes which would show off the womanliness of her body. He had her plaits let out so that her hair flowed, long and silky to below her shoulders; he placed a string of sapphires set in silver around her neck where they gleamed and threw a blue sheen down onto the visible portion of her bosom, and reflected the bright blue of her eyes.