Marcus van Heller - The House of Borgia, book1

Cesare listened. On the still air he heard the faint bleat of a goat.

Quickly he set off across the broad bridge. His heart was still pounding wildly. The seriousness of what he was doing crept over him and in the middle of his hurrying he wondered, without slowing his place, if he shouldn't just turn back and get home as quickly as possible. But in his head he had an image of the goat-girl with her loose-limbed walk and her body curves embraced in her peasant dress, and he hurried on.

By now the dusk was settling in; in a short time it would be completely dark.

He reached the point where the bridge ran into the far bank. He took a quick look around. He could almost see the girl's house to which he'd followed her twice already. Then he swung himself lightly over the parapet and crouched down out of sight.

The parapet at this point was only three feet high and there was a further six-inch drop on the bankside. From where Cesare crouched, trying to still his heaving breath, the bank, divided into patches of knee-high scrub and dusty sand, stretched gently down to the still edge of the river.

There he waited, not daring to look back over the parapet. He was so nervous that he ripped open the slit in his hose and urinated quickly against the wall of the bridge. He need still do nothing, he told himself. He could just let her go by and then go home. He still hadn't definitely decided he was going through with it when he heard her light footfall on the bridge.

He pulled the dagger from the belt under his doublet. His hand was trembling as he put it over his mouth to try and quiet his breath. In spite of his bladder-emptying, his organ was at half-cock with nervous excitement.

Suppose she was not alone today. Suppose someone came toward the bridge from the opposite direction and saw them. Suppose she broke away from him and screamed for the city guard. What would happen to him? What would his father say? A thousand doubts sprang in on him. But there was her footfall, unsuspecting and so close. He held his breath. There was no other noise at all. She was alone as usual.

Tense as a bowstring he waited. Now she was about ten paces away, now nine, now eight… now one… He put his hands on the parapet in the half-darkness, and with a spring he was up and over it just behind her.

The girl half-turned in horror before his hand clapped over her mouth and he flashed the dagger in front of her eyes.

“If you scream or make any sound I'll kill you,” he whispered fiercely.

The girl stared at him with wide, horrified dark eyes. It was rather a shock to find himself so near her, touching her, the object of her terrified attention, after watching her from a distance for two nights.

Her body was very warm against him through her thin dress. She held herself taut, but didn't make a sound.

Still holding one hand over her mouth, Cesare, glancing nervously across the bridge, prodded her toward the parapet.

“Climb over and drop down the other side,” he ordered. “And don't make a sound. I don't intend to kill you and I shan't unless you scream.”

For a moment the girl wouldn't move and he thought she was going to resist. He prodded her side with the point of the dagger and she went in front of him to the parapet and swung over it, dropping down with him to the other side.

Cesare prodded her on down the bank toward the water's edge and away from the bridge. Behind them on the land side, the bank ended some distance up in a high wall. He was safe from that direction.

The girl made no sound as he walked with her, hand still on her mouth in case she tried to shout. It had all been very easy. Through his excitement he looked down sideways at the bulge of her breasts. It was really here at last — and so easy.

At a distance from the bridge they stopped. Cesare glanced quickly back. Nobody on the bridge could see them at that distance. He jabbed the girl with the knife.

“Lie down-and if you try to shout I'll slit your throat.”

The girl looked around at him. She had long dark hair which was mussed up now around her dark face. Her eyes had lost some of their startled horror and were gleaming with anger.

“What do you want?” she said fiercely. “I am poor-I have no money.”

Cesare was beginning to feel very sure of himself.

“You have something worth its weight in gold,” he said softly. “Now lie down and I will show you.”

The girl's sudden defense took him unawares. He had come to expect an easy victory. She twisted suddenly from his grasp and took a half step toward the bridge. But Cesare's reaction was quick. He caught her again before she had even the time to cry out. He clamped his hand roughly over her mouth and pushed her to the ground. She fell under him and he dug the knife at her ribs.

“I told you I'll kill you,” he hissed.

But this time his warning had no effect. The girl probably thought he would slit her throat anyway when he'd finished with her and she resolved to sell her life dearly.

She twisted over and struggled furiously with him so that Cesare, who'd had no intention of using the knife and adding murder to his crime, was forced to drop the weapon and use both hands in an effort to overcome her.

His prick, which was erect as a raised drawbridge, had flipped out of the slit in his clothing and was crushed and rubbed between them as they struggled.

He managed to stretch her arms out on either side, but her legs continued to writhe and buffet him as he lay along her.

Her face, wrinkled with dark fury, was directly below his. With a little gust of triumph he closed his mouth over hers as she struggled. He could tell he was much stronger than she. When he took his face away she spat in his face. He released one of her arms and slapped her face with his free hand. She pushed with her released arm, jabbing him with her elbow and he fell off. The girl took full advantage of her gain and slithered out from under him, rolling over on top, clawing at him, reaching for his throat with strong fingers.

Surprised, Cesare decided that the time had come for stronger measures. He was afraid someone might hear their scuffling from the bridge-and apart from that he was almost coming against her wriggling body.

He pulled back his right fist, pushing her wrists away with his left, and punched hard and straight into her belly.

The girl collapsed on him, gasping with pain and he rolled her off and swayed over on top of her again. She was completely winded. She lay there helpless for the moment, with her dress halfway up her strong, naked thighs.

Cesare lost no time, now. He was very scared that somebody might have heard the noise. He ripped her dress up what remained hidden of her thighs, felt between her legs for the love-slit she was in no position to protect and guided his hungry prick at it.

He held the girl's arms with his hands once his knob was against her lower lips-and then he pushed in against her.

For several seconds he couldn't seem to make progress. He released an arm and reached down again, feeling for the opening. He pulled her flopping thighs apart to facilitate his entry and pushed again.

The girl squealed even through her lack of breath when his throbbing knob pierced into her. Automatically she swung her arm up and tried to push him off, gasping with the pain in her belly and the fresh pain down at her treasured vagina.

Cesare caught the arm and forced it down again. He was really in now. And it was tight enough to hurt. He was flooded with a great sense of relief, as if the frustrations of a lifetime had suddenly been put right.

The girl was squirming with pain. But his push had so hurt and winded her that she could hardly groan, let alone put up any serious opposition to his assault on her maidenhood.

Cesare breathed out his relief. At last he was able to quench his desire in a tight, loving, tender body. He thrust in as if he were ramming shot into a cannon and with each thrust he expelled a toe-shaking sigh of relief.