By the time Cesare returned to Rome, richer in money and in French favor, an event of some importance in the Borgia family had taken place: his widowed sister, Lucrezia, had become betrothed to Alfonse d'Este, young son of Duke Ercole of Ferrara. It was a marriage of convenience, although it is probable that the young Alfonse nursed an infatuation for the beautiful Lucrezia.
Into the midst of celebrations, salvoes of artillery, and after dark illuminations, Cesare arrived, crowned with fresh glory from the war, fired still by memories of the spectacle in Naples, desiring the orgasm, coveting his sister.
“Darling, Cesare,” she greeted him, when he went to her temporary rooms in the Vatican to invite her down to the supper which was being prepared by the Pope for intimates. “Darling, Cesare,” she said, “are you never going to make love to me again? I think you prefer fighting to fucking.”
Cesare pulled her to him. He kissed her fiercely on the lips and felt her tongue slide like a snake into his mouth.
“I want you tonight!” he snapped.
“But, darling? I'm married. I have to offer what I have to my new husband. It's his right you know.”
She laughed long and merrily and Cesare couldn't help but laugh with her.
“You mean you'd prefer that stripling?”
For answer she sank to her knees, seized his erection which was pushing hard through his clothing and bit it. She got quickly to her feet again and he forced her, panting, back into the room.
“No, Cesare,” she said, “not now. I'll come to you tonight? you'll see.” a€? “Do you promise? How can you? Will you leave him on the wedding night to finger his own, unloved cock?”
“He's very young, my sweet, and I think if he's fed a little wine he'll be in no fit state to benefit from the delight he might expect. After all, I don't want to get to bed with him and then find I've only a limp piece of rag trying to squeeze into my vagina.”
Cesare laughed. He was delighted with his sister and she still excited him as of old? and he was always certain, absolutely certain of a skillful, satisfying, entrail-tearing fuck with her.
He bent down quickly and lifted her skirt. She wore nothing underneath, which made her feel more natural.
“One kiss until later,” he whispered.
“Oh, no, Cesare? you're just trying to excite me!”
But he'd already whipped up her skirt, thrust his head under, pushing aside her thighs and licked his tongue all along the powdered, perfumed folds which hid her sweet tunnel. He felt her thighs rub against his shoulders and pulled the folds aside with the tips of his thumbs. He kissed the moistening flesh hard and heard her gasp.
She broke away from him with a stifled cry.
“Oh, Cesare, stop!”
Kneeling, he grinned.
“I bet you'd love it now,” he said.
As he escorted her down the stairway toward the banquet room where they were to dine, she said, softly, looking into his eyes with love: “You are a devil, Cesare, you've made me all wet.”
As they descended, she added: “Perhaps he'll go silly with the first glass.”
“One can always hope,” Cesare answered, smiling.
But it took more than one glass to put young Alfonse in a stupor. As soon as his glass was half-empty, Lucrezia had it solicitously refilled. The meal progressed; there was music and talk and laughter among the dozen or so guests. There were toasts and good wishes and sly winks from the Pope at his daughter, as if wishing her fun in bed tonight.
Throughout the evening, Cesare's eyes met those of his sister. Sometimes he would nod at her husband's glass to indicate it might be topped up just a shade. Over the dessert, with Lucrezia almost in despair, Alfonse became very talkative? he was usually rather silent? and the sign gave her hope.
Servants carried away the debris of the meal and Alfonse suggested quietly that they retire, but not so quietly that some of the surrounding guests were not forced to suppress grins of amusement to say nothing of more embarrassing indications of envy.
“Oh, but we haven't heard the other orchestra, yet,” Lucrezia insisted smoothly. “It's a beautiful orchestra. It will make a fitting goodnight.”
Alfonse sat back, slightly disappointed, but prepared to wait for something that he knew was inevitably his.
Lucrezia filled his glass again.
“What excellent wine,” she said, and took a sip.
The suggestion produced the desired effect. Alphonse automatically picked up his own glass, sipped it and then emptied it in three long gulps. It was quietly refilled.
As the “other orchestra” began to play? in a manner which hardly justified her description? Alfonse seemed to grow silent. A little later he made a slight effort at conversation with his neighbor, but then his head sank down, he gave a little belch and his eyes glazed over slightly.
Cesare smiled to himself. His clever sister. No difficulty at all.
But Alfonse came drunkenly to. He caught hold of Lucrezia's arm and stood up, lurching a little.
“Well… we… must… retire,” he said, slurring each word and waiting for long concentrated pauses.
Those other guests who had heard stood up politely and Lucrezia, so as not to make a scene, found herself obliged to stand up, make her excuses and retire with her drunken husband who hadn't once released his hold on her arm. She was quite taken aback by the sudden reversal of her plan. One minute he'd looked as if he'd have to be carried to bed, the next he'd made a comeback like some punchdrunk fighter who won't go down.
On Cesare the effect was even worse. He saw the image of his night's exhilaration slipping away. No other woman would do. He loved his sister, had more feeling for her than for any other woman, and he had to unite with her tonight.
Thinking furiously, he waited for them to reach the doors of the banquet hall. None of the other guests seemed inclined to leave so early.
Cesare stood up.
“If you'll excuse me father…”
“What, my son? we have some saucy dancing to follow. Why, it's not yet midnight.”
“I'm sorry father, but I have a bad head. I got a knock in Naples, you know, and they've been recurring, these headaches, ever since.”
“My poor boy. We'll have the physician in first thing tomorrow.. ”
“Oh, it's nothing serious, father…”
“And you'd better have one of the servants get you something.”
The Pope called to an attractive female servant, who had ceased to be a virgin the moment he'd discovered that she was one.
“Carlotta, the Duke needs a brew for his head.”
The woman moved off to obey and Cesare took his leave of the guests and followed her. The plan had fallen into his lap if the drink had caught up on Alfonse as much as he thought it should have done by now.
He caught the girl, walking through the corridors, and took her by the arm. She turned toward him, smiling. She was a well-known libertine and Cesare remembered that he'd yet to try her.
He talked to her quietly for a few minutes, explaining that his sister did not want to sleep with her newlywed in his drunken state but could hardly refuse. He outlined a brief plan and slipped an emerald ring into her. hand. She held his fingers suggestively and he. whispered in her ear that he would like to see her the next day. That seemed to satisfy her more than the ring had, and she followed him as he walked quickly through the various chambers and up the broad steps to Lucrezia's temporary apartment.
At the top of the stairs, Lucrezia was almost supporting Alfonse, whose eyes were half closed, but whose arms were mechanically mauling her while his face nuzzled at hers.
Cesare slowed down and motioned to the servant, Carlotta, who grinned as she moved up. Lucrezia saw them coming and, at a sign from Cesare, pushed open the door to her apartment and moved in, rather awkwardly as Alfonse was trying to kiss her breasts and get his hand up her skirt at the same time.
When Cesare and his companion reached the door, Lucrezia had already maneuvered her part-conscious husband into the bedroom. He had succeeded in getting his hand up her skirt and was rummaging between her thighs as they staggered toward the bed. He pulled her onto the bed as they reached it and her skirt fell up over her hips as she landed beside him. He began to kiss her passionately and she pulled away saying, loudly, to ensure that it got through to him:
“Wait, darling. Let me undress.”
He didn't seem to hear. His hand mauled between her legs, exposing all that was there to the eyes of the two watchers at the door. Lucrezia pulled away from him by main force and he rolled onto his side and lay there muttering to himself, reaching blindly toward her figure which he could probably only vaguely see.
Cesare gave his companion a push and she slipped into the room, pulling off her clothes. As she moved in, Lucrezia moved out.
Brother and sister waited long enough to see the unabashed servant stripped? and very comely, Cesare thought, reserving his true appreciation for the morrow? and settling down to undress Alfonse who slobbered over her naked body. She was hoping he was just conscious enough to get it stiff and stick it in her. She liked the idea of being rammed by young gentry and her hands skillfully teased his prick up to more than life size as she undressed him.
Cesare and his sister made their way quickly to his own apartments. When he had locked the door behind them they both burst into helpless laughter which shook them for several minutes.
“How brilliant, Cesare… brilliant!” Lucrezia gasped at last. “But supposing he sobers up?”
“If he does he'll find himself in bed with a maid who'll tell him he dragged her there. He'll be so confused he won't even dare mention it to you. You can say you put him to bed and told the maid to look in later to see if he was all right.” He paused. “If he doesn't come to, you'll have time to join him before the morning, and he'll think that he had you before he passed out.”
“Brilliant, brilliant? but I'd hate him to have had a servant girl and think that it was me? a poor level of performance.”
“I'll let you know how you compare tomorrow,” he said.
“Why you diablo, you've got her into your bed for tomorrow night? What about me?”
“You'd better make peace with your Alfonse.”
“Cold-hearted brute. You don't care for me one jot.”
She came toward him, mock-pouting through her smile and he grabbed her and kissed her as if he wanted to push her mouth through to the back of her head. She opened her mouth under his pressure and, squirming at him, began to undo his doublet.
“I can't wait, darling. God he got me all excited for you with his mauling!”
Cesare stripped rapidly and Lucrezia tore off her astonishingly few garments.
“You should have been a gypsy,” he said, and the thought reminded him of another liaison not yet exhausted. Doubtless he would be returning north before very long.
She twisted around for him, moving her limbs in a wild pirouette, showing off the almost exaggerated curves of her highly voluptuous body.
“Do you remember the day you chased me around the pool?” she asked breathlessly, falling into his arms and stroking his penis underneath from base to tip. “What did you think when you saw me running naked, for the first time, in front of you.”
Cesare kissed her ear and quivered with the feel of her lovely nakedness against his.
“I thought you had a bottom more beautiful than the moon,” he said.
“Oh, darling, how poetic. Is it still?” She broke away from him and turned her back coquettishly.
He looked down at the bottom. It was perfect, not too much flesh, slightly oval? shaped with the buttocks billowing out, smooth and shiny as a cannon from her tiny waist.
He moved up behind her, so that his prick pressed up along the crack between the buttocks. He put his hand under her armpits and held a bulbous breast in each. She pushed her behind back at him and felt behind her for his prick as she rested her head back against his shoulder.
“So beautiful I could possess that little crevice between them and imagine myself sailing around the moon on a magic carpet.” Lucrezia laughed breathlessly. “Why not?” she said. “If you do it'll make me so excited by the time you've finished that I'll cut off your penis with my scissors if you can't come up again within half a minute to satisfy me? that is, if I'm not satisfied already.”
He pressed hard against her. That tight little posterior hole was just as delightful as the other. It didn't matter which he had first. He pushed her toward the bed and put her hands around behind his back, pushing his buttocks at her as if she were propelling them both along in their movement.
From a table beside his bed she took some pomade with which, in times of peace and pomp, he treated his hair.
“Use a little, of that,” she said. “It's a long time since I've felt an invasion in that quarter.”
She climbed onto the bed and lay on her stomach, holding her thighs together, pressing them into the coverlet, grunting with expectation.
Cesare knelt over her and pulled her buttocks apart as if he were separating the quarters of an orange. Between was that dark, puckered, very bald-looking crack, seeming so tiny that it was impossible to believe his battering-ram could possibly force its way in.
He took the pomade and gently massaged the little hole with it, smearing it around the bald, puckered flesh, gently tickling her tender spot with his fingertips.
Lucrezia wriggled under him so that her buttocks tensed around his fingers and held him in a light grip.
“Oh hurry, darling,” she said, her voice coming up, muffled by the coverlet into which she was pressing her face to control her passion.
Her anus was slippery with the pomade and he pushed his index finger at the clinging little hole. It gave without much difficulty and his finger slipped in and was held. His fingertip found soft, loose depths and he waggled his finger around a little and then pushed in another finger.
Lucrezia pressed her hips into the bed, squealing.
“Darling, darling, don't torment me!”
Cesare looked at his prick. It was red and angry looking. He pulled his foreskin right back and smeared a little of the pomade on so that it glistened.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered.
Lucrezia, as if she too were hungry and opening her mouth for food, spread her legs in a large, obtuse-angled V, pressing her legs hard and quiveringly into the coverlet. She loosed her buttock-tension and lay there, her mouth open, heart and loins pounding for the stiff entry.
Cesare leveled himself over her, caught his prick in one hand and aimed it as he stretched out on her, feeling at first the gentle brushing of their skins from chest to loins as he positioned himself and then the full, hot weight of flesh against flesh as he lay heavily on her body.
“That's it!” she grated. “Go on darling. I can stand it!”
Cesare pushed down harder, practically pivoting on his vertical stand.
She groaned out a long exclamation which at first was formless and then managed to transform itself into a stifled “Daaarling!”
His penis was pinched and contracted in her deep passage. It felt as if sparks were being squeezed out of it, as if it were being squeezed into little sections, each with its own burning light.
Cesare moaned with the tight excruciating excitement of it and put his arms around and under her, grasping her breasts, slightly flattened against the bed, and began to squeeze and pull them.
Lucrezia uttered a little scream and he felt her undulating under him, her buttocks rising and falling, wriggling and squirming against the hairy flesh of his loins.
The relief he'd felt at shoving his penis at last into the soft receptacle of his sister's body began to fade and its place was taken by a gnawing pressure which was growing agony.
He rose and fell on her with long deep strokes, pushing right up in a tearing invasion of her posterior passage.
His mouth opened of its own accord and his breath barked out. Under him, muffled in the coverlet he heard Lucrezia's little screams of passion and he strengthened his grip on her breasts which seemed to expand and resist him. Up and down, in and out he sawed into her, feeling his organ rasp against the warm walls of her fleshy channel. He wanted still more of her and, without coming out of her, he struggled up onto his knees, pulling her up with him so that she was kneeling with her buttocks in an arc towards him, their bodies joined by the single erect bridge.
Her body curved away from him, her head still resting on the coverlet. She arched her back like a stretching cat and rolled her buttocks in all directions in abandon. He caught her buttocks in each hand and pinched up the flesh, holding it in handfuls, squeezing it furiously as he drove in, wanting to hurt her, to communicate to her the ecstasy of pain and delight in which he was plunged.
He rammed his penis in and then waggled his hips around against her stretched, naked buttocks, feeling the warmth of the friction spring up between them.
To Lucrezia it seemed that there was nothing to her body but loins and buttocks. Her loins were afire and her behind was a gaping cavern into which all of Cesare seemed to have plunged. It seemed that all her entrails had been pushed aside to leave only a great empty, palpitating space in which he moved thickly and expanded with more and more fury.
Ramming in, Cesare was caught on a rhythmic tide of movement in which there seemed to be no thought, no mind, only wild, orgiastic movement and loin-tearing sensation. His penis was chafed and burning and seemed to be still growing, thickening in its every particle, stiffening still when it had seemed utterly stiff before.
His gasps came with rhythmic regularity. Every in-stroke pulled breath from his mouth.
He leaned forward, grasping her tiny waist which seemed so fragile under the voluptuous hips that it looked as if it might snap. He held it on either side, gripping it fiercely, revelling in the feel of the tight flesh and the power that he felt in having her body completely at his command. He pressed her waist down against the bed, forcing it to yield. He drew back and rammed into her with shattering force so that her head grazed forward along the coverlet. He drew back again and shattered in again, tearing into her brutally, savagely, hearing her cry out, losing his whole rigid length in her with a single long thrust. As he drove in he pulled her waist toward him so that her round buttocks crushed back to meet his thrust and helped his searing entry.
He varied his stroke, giving short, quick little thrusts in a quick series and then he reverted to long, slow strokes, bringing from her a fresh gasp or groan with every variation of pressure and movement.
“Oh, oh, oh? I'm coming!”
Her wailing moan came up to him and he gritted his teeth in the brutal ecstasy. His fury had produced her orgasm.
He hurried himself, tensing his loins, grinding his inside, with mental and physical aid, feeling the knot of sensation tighten and complicate in his genitals.
He heard her gasp several short, furious emissions of breath. She rammed back at him as if he couldn't penetrate her enough and then she gave out a long, wild wail which slowly choked and faded into a background of groaning whimpers.
Now, now, now, he told himself as he heaved and bucked over her buttocks which still undulated around him.
He gnashed his teeth, feeling the climax upon him. He pushed her waist flat down toward the bed, wanting to destroy her in the sadistic urge which his near orgasm sent quivering and tumulting through his whole body so that even his toes seemed to tingle with it.
He wanted to split her right apart. He couldn't tell what he wanted. He wanted to go further to achieve some end to his thrusting which he had not yet achieved.
Almost crying with the excruciation of sensation, he knew the end was coming up. It twirled and spun in his genitals, growing into a great, inexorable force. And with a great, hot, slippery outrush it spiralled through his depths, raced like a sharp pain along his pounding rod and broke out in a wild mob of scattering sperm which lashed up and around deep inside her.
He collapsed over her and after a while they rolled over and lay exhausted in each other's arms.
“Darling, I don't think dear Alphonse would have been quite capable, somehow,” Lucrezia said softly at last.
Cesare smiled and began gently and expertly to caress her breasts.