Marcus van Heller - The House of Borgia, book1

The strange trio had reached him while the thoughts wafted through his head. Close up she was more perfect than ever. He could see the moisture on her skin — the sweat of fear. He could make out the light down on parts of her body, a mole beneath her left breast, the puckered, corrugated skin around the base of her nipple, the slight quiver of her thighs as she approached.

He made a sign to his men and took her by the arms as they released her. Nobody spoke, no voices were to leave traces in her memory. With a wave, Cesare dismissed the men back to the clearing where the rest of his band were drawing lots for the order of ravishing the other women.

Left alone with her, he marched her in front of him, holding a slim bicep in each hand, away from the clearing.

She had a slim, straight back, a firm curve to her spine. The narrow waist rounded out into a fleshy dome of bottom which quivered sinuously as she walked. Her buttocks were like the heads on columns, rounded, well-fitting from the well-shaped, classical thighs. He put one hand down against her buttocks as she walked and the brushing of them, smooth as eggs, made his hand tingle, brought his penis crushing up inside his clothing, giving it that solid, blood-filled ache which only intercourse would relieve.

“Whoever you are I warn you you'll lose your head for this,” she snapped suddenly, with a choke in her voice.

For answer he slapped each of her buttocks in turn. She squirmed and tried to break free but his grasp tightened on her arm so strongly that she cried out with pain and stumbled forward.

“If you get my clothes and put me on a horse I'll arrange a pardon for you personally,” she urged with a sob. “You're all doomed-but you who are with me can be saved if you help me.”

He jabbed his thumb between her quivering buttocks as she finished her desperate speech and she cried out and tried again to squirm away. He pulled her back toward him to control her and felt her buttocks writhing against his erection. He joggled against her, crushing his penis against her flesh, rotating it around the inner banks of the ravine between them.

“You beast, you swine!” She was crying bitterly again. He rubbed his hands over her breasts and sucked her neck as she struggled vainly. He had to get in her quickly.

Flushed and perspiring, he pushed her forward again. He ran his hand down her spine, let it swoop out with the lift of her buttocks. She kicked back at him and he slashed the flat of his hand across her rump anew.

At a distance from the clearing where he could no longer hear the scuffling of activity, he tied her to a tree while he cut four stakes with his dagger. The stakes he shoved deep into the ground in a rough square. He went back to the tree and looked at his victim. Now that she was in his power he tortured himself, gloating over her body, taking his time in the preparation.

He kissed her lips and she started at the unexpected assault. The lips trembled under his and tried to drag away but he pressed on them hard and bit them so that a muffled cry of protest tried to escape from her throat. He moved his mouth off her and nibbled her nipples.

“Oh, you swine, you swine! If you touch me I promise you you'll be tortured to death!”

He sucked the breast, letting it bulge right into his mouth like a perfect rounded fruit. He moved his mouth again and kissed her belly. She tried to fight him off with her legs, but emotion was exhausting her.

Cesare stepped back after a while and slowly began to undress. He stripped gradually, garment by garment, feeling the cool touch of air on his naked flesh. He revealed his loins last and a tremor of excitement ran through his body as his penis shot warmly into the cool atmosphere and soared there, tensed up, in a static thrust against nothing.

He went close to her and untied her from the tree. She felt his naked body as he brushed against her and she began to fight, weeping almost hysterically at the same time. She was no match for him. He held her easily in his arms while he pressed his hot joint against her loins, against her behind as she twisted. His knob was a deep blood-color; it had moistened over. With a grunt of effort he pulled her to the ground and tied her wrist to one of the stakes.

She jerked against it while he held her other wrist and moved the second stake to a more suitable distance before tying the second wrist. He smiled with lustful satisfaction at his work and pulled her left leg wide out from her body, as near a right angle with her hips as he could make it. She tried to kick him, gasping with pain and rage. That leg fastened, he caught the other and pulled it wide, moving the last stake over. The angle between her thighs was now an obtuse one. It left wide and unprotected that mass of delight between her white columns. He gazed down at her. The lips of her vagina were pink and fleshy, a muff of hair receded from their surroundings.

Cesare walked in between her legs and pressed her vagina with his big toe. She gave a little scream and tried to recoil.

“You can have anything if you'll get me a horse,” she gasped, “pardon, money, jewels- anything you want!”

He inserted his toe slowly in her vagina. He felt it open and yield and he jogged his toe into her. His penis was sticking straight out from his loins like a handle; a drop of moisture dripped from it onto her belly.

He grinned and knelt down between her legs, staring at the opening he was going to fuck. He wanted to make her degradation complete. He lay down between her thighs with his face right up against her mossy opening. He pulled the lips wide apart with his thumbs and pushed his lips against her warm flesh. He kissed and licked and then he poked out his tongue into her hole.

Carlotta strained at her bonds and gasped out exclamations of horror and shock. “Please, please!” she begged. “No, no!”

Cesare continued to lick. He had found-the clitoris which was soft, unresponding and was sucking it hard, intending to hurt her physically as well as mentally.

At the same time he slipped his hands up under her behind, his fingers rustling on the bed of old leaves on which she was pinioned. Her buttocks squirmed tight and cringed at his touch. But so widely were her legs splayed apart that she couldn't hide her dark, little hole and he began to push it and pull it apart, so near to his lips.

“Oh, God, God, no, no!” Carlotta was almost in an hysterical delirium. But that only increased his thirst for revenge.

He released her anus after a while and caught both her wide-spread thighs, pulling her pelvis down at his mouth, pushing his tongue up into her passage as far as it would go. She was small, and obviously a virgin. He wondered if she'd bleed when he had her. He wondered if it would shame her more to bleed. Perhaps he shouldn't finger her too much for fear of making his passage easier.

He brought his tongue out of her and knelt up on both knees, looking at her body. She was a flesh and blood dummy there for him to use. There was nothing she could do or say to stop him from doing anything he wanted to in any way he pleased.

He lay down on her and slithered up her body. She gasped again at the horror of his weight on her and what it meant. Her breasts were firm and springy under him, balancing him up like two rubber cushions. Down at his thighs was a void, just the leaves under him, no thighs of hers, nothing. She was pulled too widely apart; there was just the almost horizontal line of legs and pelvis.

He put his hand down there and felt for her aperture. It was moist, but tight, difficult to open a little. He took his prick in his hand and aimed the knob at the small hole he'd found. She squirmed away, but there was no hope. She began to cry and to-mutter a prayer. His knob was against the little orifice. He drew back his hips a little and then lunged forward and up.