Tightly he held her upper arms while he wriggled his hips in closer.
“It won't hurt, it won't hurt, in a moment it won't hurt,” he wheezed through his leaping breath.
“Oh, it hurts, it hurts, oh, oh, oh!” Lucrezia moved her head from side to side, but made no further effort, realizing the futility, to jerk her hips away from her father's.
His great prick was like an elephant somehow got inside her body and barging in still farther. She felt as if her belly, her loins, were being purged in a painful, splitting scourging. And always, always as she thought it eased, the pain broke out afresh and the great object tearing and thundering inside swept up, impossibly, farther and farther.
She closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears oozing from them. She bit her lips and gritted her teeth. She couldn't stand it. She wished it had never begun. It wasn't like with Cesare. It was pain such as she'd never experienced. Was this how women were when they had a child? She would never have a child. Never!
But Cardinal Roderigo was in delirium. He moved his hands under her behind, pushed his fingers right around to feel his own organ crushing into that tightly-grasping pipeline. He squeezed her buttocks in a paroxysm of sensuality, thrust his fingers at her little rosebud anus. And all the time the fire in his prick was growing and growing, drawing oaths and obscenities from his mouth. He had nearly disappeared into her body now. There was little left to go. By the time of the explosion which was twisting his lips with its imminence, he would be crushing right in, stuffing her with the entirety of his penis. He pulled her thighs up to facilitate his last two centimeters.
“Oh, oh. What a delightful little hole,” he choked. “Daughter — you're the best — the best — I've ever — had.”
Lucrezia heard these oaths and mouthings with a slight chill of fear. This had got beyond expectations. But she was relieved to find that the pain had got no worse and that, apart from a soreness in her vagina, everything seemed to be much easier and she was actually recapturing some of the earlier sensation which had flattened in her as soon as the pain came. Papa had been right after all. It would only hurt for a while. In fact, now, as it became easier with every thrust he made and she began to wriggle her loins and thighs against him, it seemed impossible that a few minutes before she'd been ready to die from anguish.
“It's all right, papa,” she whispered. “It — it doesn't hurt so much any more.”
Her words spurred Cardinal Roderigo on as if she had suddenly bitten the blunt end of his rod. There was a sweetness, a submission about the way she told him that made him feel strangely sadistic.
He pulled her thighs up at an even more acute angle with her belly and pushed home the last length of pulsating flesh. Lucrezia gasped, but a gasp which was three parts pleasure, one part shock.
The Cardinal's loins were aflame. His penis was heavy and prickling inside her. It felt ready to burst along its whole length. His belly was heaving in and out enough to give him a heart attack, his hands rifled her bottom, pinching it, grabbing it in paroxysms, digging at the anus which squirmed on his fingertips.
“Oh, Lucrezia! My darling!” he moaned.
“Papa, papa,” she answered tenderly through her regrowing passion.
His lips moved, but no sounds came out except his choking breath. It was coming. He rammed smack into her, burying his staff so deep that his hairy surrounds cracked against her vaginal lips with force and made her squeal. In his belly there was a churning, a churning that was pure essence of sensation. Everything paled, he felt dizzy. The heat and solid pricking fury of the sensation was everything, but for dazed impressions of this beautiful body, this beautiful daughter lying under him, giving him this ecstasy from her lovely passionate flesh.
In the depths of his chest a long-drawn, choking gasp slowly followed the course of the long-drawn, loin-convulsing drawing of his fluid. He called her name through his moaning. He leaned up from her except for his loins. He gripped her waist just above the hips and squeezed it with more and more force as the fluid rushed inside him, fought its way to his penis and with a last rush shattered out and up into her writhing channel, inundating it as he jerked uncontrollably, inundating it until it rolled slowly out of her vagina between her wide-flung legs in the wake of his collapsed penis and he let go of her waist and slipped exhaustedly down onto the warmth of her flesh. Red marks were left on the tender white flesh where his hands had gripped.
Lucrezia had been aware, through her own passion, of the groaning and writhing around her as if a thousand demons were suddenly raping her body from all sides. She felt the hot jets of sperm spurt inside her, with a twinge of pleasure. And then, a few seconds later, she felt fresh twinges of disappointment when her father sank limply onto her and the solidity was withdrawn from her vagina leaving a sudden cool rush of air and the shadow of solidity in its place.
Her vagina was hot and a piquant burning remained. She was sore, but not so sore that she wouldn't have invited further entry to assuage her desire. She sighed and tensed her thighs against the Cardinal's hips.
He seemed to come out of the heavily breathing state of coma he'd fallen into and he stroked her thighs without moving from his position astride her.
“You learn very fast, daughter,” he said. “I'm exhausted as a galley slave.”
In answer she wound her legs around his and rubbed her cheek against his chin.
He lay on her, inwardly chuckling now, knowing her unquenched desire. It was warm and highly pleasant having her provocative body as a cushion. The wound which had just allowed his sperm to flow from him would soon be cured and then he would be ready for fresh action.
Lucrezia unwound her tightly clamping legs after a few minutes and slithered them in underneath his. He felt her soft little belly squirm against the rotundity of his and then the live pressure of her well-covered hips.
“Did I not hurt you, my sweet?”
“Yes, papa — but it changed halfway and I began to feel that I wanted to die in such happiness.”
And she has yet to die in it, he thought, yet to feel the soporific spread of satisfaction from her father's punishing penetration.
He rolled off her, at last. His prick, hot and tender, had half-risen again. He glanced down at it below the bulge of his belly and then he took Lucrezia's hand and placed it on the hot length of flesh.
Lucrezia looked down at the organ which had began to expand in her hand. She held it gently as if it were a hand, wondering at its great heat.
“Caress it, my love-particularly the knob,” the Cardinal said, pressing his thighs one against the other.
His daughter obeyed, drawing her fingers gently, as if afraid, over the smooth, white skin from its hairy base to the fiery red knob at its extremity.
Cardinal Roderigo felt an explosion from him as if passion had broken out from a small cell, shattering the walls, and was now pervading the corridors, the antechambers of his entire body. He flexed his hips against the side of her thigh. He crossed one ankle behind the other, turning his body into an arch with the foremost point his penis. His heart began to gather speed in its pounding once again.
Lucrezia gained courage-or curiosity as the Cardinal became more and more impassioned. She allowed her fingers to slip away from the rigid, fleshy stem to fondle the hairy balls below. They, too, were hot and hairily smooth and she gathered them in her hand, weighing them gently in her palm, wondering at the strange makeup of man. The very feel of his genitals excited her, too, making her wet and exposed-feeling between her legs so that she closed her thighs and grazed them together achingly.