When she was only ten years old Cardinal Roderigo had doted on the remarkable physical development of his daughter and now, at the age of eleven, he thought of her as a fresh, young woman with her breasts and buttocks as full as cannonballs.
But it was not only her voluptuous dimensions which produced the burning erection under Roderigo Borgia's robes every time he watched her playing in her little girl's shift which seemed so unsuitable. It was the deep, knowing look in those bright blue eyes, which seemed to look past his apparent paternal smile and see the incestuous desire beyond. And in the look was the hint of a smile, as if she were daring him to translate his desire to action.
Of course, Cardinal Roderigo was aware that his own feelings interfered with his objectivity of vision. It was hardly likely that his daughter, raised in a true God-fearing way, could really have the faintest inkling of the lustful labyrinths of men's minds. And yet there was a definite sexual aura about her which he could not reconcile with his imagination, nor with her youth.
He sat on a log in the grounds of their house near St. Peter's watching her playing now with her brother Cesare. Cesare pushed the swing while she, with her shift above her knees and her legs apart as she urged it to greater heights, sat on the wooden platform as if on a horse.
The paternal smile was fixed on Cardinal Roderigo's face. Any observer would have felt his heart stirred at the sight of the busiest, most important cardinal in Rome, relaxing with his children. But through that smile, the Cardinal's eyes dwelt on the uplifted breasts as she reached upwards, holding the ropes of the swing. Their outline was forceful; they seemed to spring out towards his eyes. It suddenly occurred to him that she hadn't put on her undergarments today.
“Higher, higher,” she urged her brother. Even the voice, he mused, was that of a woman; it had body and modulation. It had a soft, caressing warmth, the way her flesh would be if it nestled nakedly against one.
The swing was mounting. Back and then forward toward him. His eyes dropped to her well-formed legs. She squirmed her bottom on the swing, exhorting it with passionate fondlings to fly up and up. The Cardinal found the movement exciting. He imagined, tried to imagine, the feel of that bottom against his loins. He stared at her hips. His face colored slightly. He could see right up those delicious, milky thighs to the darkness of their junction. Oh those thighs! He raised his eyes guiltily, with an effort, and saw that hers were on him, lids slightly lowered, suggesting a smile. He started. The little minx. She was positively inviting him. He was convinced of it.
“Lucrezia, my child,” he said. “Have you no warm clothes under your shift?”
She squirmed her bottom and kicked her legs forward, urging her mount on. “No father. It's so warm, today.” “It's not a question of warmth, my sweet one. It's unladylike to be naked under such a thin garment. It shows off too much of your body.”
He enjoyed this sort of conversation. It was fatherly because he was, after all, speaking to his little daughter for her own good; it was also rousing because he was speaking to an unknown woman about her raw beauty. It could be indulged in with safety.
“I thought it wouldn't matter,” Lucrezia purred. “There is nobody to see me but you and Cesare.”
“Paternity and fraternity, my dear, do not turn men into marble statues.”
He continued to look at her, suddenly, overwhelmingly aware that he was talking to no child at all. He was talking to some strange, instinctive essence of woman which needed no experience to know about the effect of the apple. She looked back at him, unspeaking, her eyes sphinxlike, her thighs still wide, her arms relaxed a little on the ropes so that her breasts jogged slightly as she jerked forward.
Roderigo glanced past her to Cesare. His son was two years older and as beautiful as his sister. But he was not so aware. Even now, he seemed not to have followed the conversation. He concentrated, grinning, on his job of hurtling Lucrezia up to a horizontal sweep. His secret ambition was to see her swoop right up and over the bar.
“You must always wear underclothes in the Orsini Palace,” the Cardinal said, determined to keep the conversation going. “It would be unbecoming to your tutors to treat them like suitors.”
She stared at him for a few seconds as the swing flowed forward and back. He knew she was working over his words, but she was clever enough to make it appear that she understood.
“Passion is a poor accompaniment to scholarly disinterest,” he pursued, reveling in the train of his thought, the sequence of images- of tutors mixing Greek with French in confusion, while his daughter calmly surveyed their discomfiture with deep eyes and a half-shown bosom.
“Will study make me scholarly and disinterested?”
You precocious little bitch, he thought. I ought to spank you-but I should ejaculate over your flushed buttocks even as my hand lashed them.
“You are too bursting with the good things of life,” he answered.
“Cesare,” Lucrezia said, “I want to come down.”
Reluctantly Cesare caught the swing, moved back and forth with it, slowing it. With the courtesy he'd always been taught, he moved around and lifted his sister down. She slipped down him, still watching her father. Her limbs seemed to cling to her brother's like slowly relaxing rubber. As her feet reached the ground she looked up at his face suddenly and her round mouth parted in a smile to which her brother responded.
Her father saw the smile and sensed the desire behind it. But his son, he saw, was not awakened to his young sister's potentialities.
He looked at Cesare. The boy was already tall and sturdy. He must have had sexual desire, must experience it often, but it did not focus on his sister. A pity, the Cardinal decided. The little witch needed to know what it was like and she had a bit of a crush on her brother — that he had noticed in years gone by.
Cesare would be more or less of a handsome stranger to her of course, away as he was most of the time, studying at Perugia. An idea occurred to him and he smiled at it. He would open Cesare's eyes to the little fruit that his sister was. She would, surely, do the rest without any encouragement. Then, when she had been deflowered by Cesare's growing manhood, the way would be prepared for his own full organ to enjoy an hour or two of passion with her.
“Why don't you go and bathe in the pool,” he suggested. “Take off all your clothes and let the sun fill you with goodness.”
Lucrezia looked quickly at her brother. Cesare looked at his father. A number of unuttered questions clouded, uncomfortably, in his eyes.
“Oh, don't worry,” the Cardinal said paternally. “There will be nobody to see you and you are well sheltered by the pergola.”
Cesare continued to look uncomfortable and his sister caught his hand.
“Poor Cesare. I think he's embarrassed,” she said innocently. “Why are you embarrassed, my darling brother?”
Cardinal Roderigo heard the innocent-sounding words mincing provocatively from her pretty lips and smiled inwardly. He wondered just how far her mind went, how much of the next hour or two she anticipated.
“Embarrassed,” he roared, with mock impatience. “Of course Cesare's not embarrassed. He has too fine and athletic a frame to be embarrassed to let his little sister see it. Give her a spanking Cesare when there's nothing to protect her-and then duck her head in the pool.”
Cesare smiled. He was still embarrassed, but now he dared not show it. His father's praise of his body had pleased him.
“I'll make her scream for mercy,” he boasted.
“Mind she doesn't make you scream for mercy,” the Cardinal muttered more to himself than to his son.
“Off you go now,” he urged. “I have some work to do.”
He watched them run off in the direction of the pool, Lucrezia leading, her buttocks straining against the shift as she moved, laughing over her shoulder at Cesare, who followed, smiling, superior in the knowledge that he could overtake her as he wished.
The Cardinal waited for several minutes before he followed them slowly through the grounds, stepping quietly toward the pool.
The pool was surrounded by a covered walk with a single entrance at one end. The Cardinal pushed his way gently through the trees and bushes bolstering the trelliswork. He crouched and peered through the rose-twined woodwork to where the clear, blue pool glittered in the sunlight.
Cesare was immersed in the pool, keeping to its edge, obviously still embarrassed at his sister's presence. She, however, was standing on the marble surround brazenly drawing her shift over her head.
Cardinal Roderigo's eyes became transfixed. She threw the shift down on a wooden seat and stretched, looking down invitingly at Cesare. The curves of her body were generous, her waist tight and slim, breasts opening out like an enormous flower above, hips vying with breasts for roundness and maturity below. The sun, which turned her golden hair almost silver, made her pink flesh shine with an almost luminous whiteness. The large red nipples stood out astonishingly dark against the white background and the down at the solid triangle between her thighs was another quick flash of silver.
If I had been more thoughtful, Cardinal Roderigo told himself, I would have got rid of her nanny and her maids and enjoyed the sight of her womanly body often before.
Lucrezia was walking along the edge of the pool away from Cesare, staring up into the sun, opening her arms to it like a lover. Her buttocks bulged under the slimness of her waist, stretching one against the other as she moved, her legs tautened, hard and slim and then relaxed as each swept forward with her step.
Cardinal Roderigo was hot all over, and sweating between his thighs. His eyes gloated over the fullness of her body, the movement in it as she moved, little eddies of shadow, ripples of half-'formed muscle. He watched her parading for Cesare's benefit as if she were an experienced harlot and he was amazed. The little bitch really needed it good and hard and deep enough to make her tremble from her toes to her golden plaits.
Cesare, too, watched her every movement. His own nakedness had suddenly made him aware of hers-as a woman, not as his sister. He clung to the edge of the pool whose water was so clear that if he moved out into the middle she'd be able to see him just as he could now see her.
Lucrezia turned and walked back toward Cesare.
“Isn't it lovely not to have any clothes on?” she called out. “I feel like a nymph.”
“Hurry up and come in,” Cesare answered gruffly. “The water's warm.”
“Why do you sound so cross?” she pouted. And with a quick movement she swept her little foot down into the water beside him and shot a spout of water into his eyes. Cesare gasped, released his hold on the side and plunged out into the center of the pool. The shock of the attack robbed him of his embarrassment. “I'll get you for that,” he called, laughing. You'll get her anyway, the Cardinal chuckled to himself. He was envying his son the view he must have had of Lucrezia's soft, little vagina as she stretched her foot down to splash him. “I don't care. I'm not afraid of you,” she cried, laughing too. And with that she gave a neat little dive down into the pool, out of sight of both father and son.
Leaning forward, the better to see, Cardinal Roderigo heard his son shout and saw him begin to flail his arms as he disappeared under the water. In another second Lucrezia shot to the surface and broke into peals of laughter at her skill in ducking her brother from underneath.
Cesare came to the surface, furious now at the impudence of the trick. He began to race toward his retreating sister.
“I'm going to spank you as father said,” he cried. “And then I may kill you as well.”
Shrieking insults, Lucrezia turned her back on him and swam with all her strength to the edge of the pool. She reached up, gripped the edge and hauled herself out, lying along the marble and wriggling herself out of the water. Cardinal Roderigo could feel the painful pressure of his rigid penis against his clothes as he devoured the back view of her wriggling escape. Her buttocks stretched out, her thighs pushed and flailed in the air. He could see the slim walls of flesh between her legs. She would be the most beautiful, the most voluptuous woman in Italy in a very short time.
Cesare reached the pool's edge and grabbed at one of his sister's feet, but all he succeeded in doing was getting a hearty kick in the shoulder as she swung clear, climbed to her feet and began to run.
Her father's eyes followed lustfully. Her buttocks swayed like helpless jellies as she fled; her breasts sprang up and flopped back within their small range of movement. She laughed as she ran and glanced over her shoulder to where Cesare had quickly pulled himself up to the marble surround and was getting to his feet. Her eyes took in the water-cooled limpness of his organ, the dark hair around it. She wondered fleetingly what it was like to touch that thing which performed the functions of which she'd read vague descriptions in some of the best literature of the times. Then Cesare was on his feet and running dangerously fast after her and she turned her head frontwards again, racing breathlessly around the pool's perimeter.
Cardinal Roderigo drew back a little as her rippling, trembling figure turned the end of the bath and came towards him. He looked back at his son and was proud of him. Slim, strong body. He could have been eighteen or nineteen and his penis was a good specimen, a worthy initiator for Lucrezia,
Cesare was overhauling his sister with ease. She glanced back again and began to laugh with that breathless hysteria of someone in desperation.
She was practically opposite the point where her father was hidden in the mass of foliage when Cesare caught her. She turned away from the pool onto the soft bank of grass next to the inside trelliswork, trying to dodge, to double back. But it was too late, Cesare's muscular young arms had fastened, one around her neck, the other across her breasts, and all she could do was kick and struggle and laugh and pant helplessly.
The battle between their fine young bodies, his lean, muscular, hers ripe, voluptuous, took place about six feet from the unseen Cardinal, who moved forward again, so unlikely were they to see him in the concentration of their struggle.
“Now I shall spank you,” Cesare shouted, flinging her down on the grass, falling with her.
“Oh Cesare, how rude and brutish,” his sister laughed.
Cardinal Roderigo looked down at her close, fleshful body so near to him and felt a fierce gripping in his rod, so that he longed to burst through the flimsy trellis and the roses and sink himself into the soothing well of relief she promised. He watched their struggle on the ground. Cesare had forced her down on her belly and she had caught one arm and held it firmly gripped under her breasts. He had twined one leg around hers while he raised the other hand and gave her the first sharp-sounding slap across her rearing buttocks.
The Cardinal watched the hand descend, saw her squirm and cry out, half laughing, half startled, saw the pink mark on the white mounds as the hand rose again.
Lucrezia struggled again, desperately, and managed to throw Cesare's leg off her. The Cardinal grinned avidly as he saw that his son's penis had stiffened out, was cleaving the air alongside his daughter's buttock.
Cesare was flushed; he looked a little confused. He noticed, too, that Lucrezia was trembling.
With a sharp movement of his strong arms, Cesare gripped her shoulders, holding her flat on the ground, only her legs kicking wildly in the air. Again he lifted his hand and it lashed down across her behind, and again. His erection had expanded to the limit of its capacity as he half lay, half knelt beside his sister and administered punishment to her darkly blushing bottom.
Watching closely the Cardinal saw Lucrezia's mouth open, was aware that she was pressing her body into the grass as she smarted under her spanking.
“Oh, Cesare!” she gasped out at last.
Her brother eased up, wondering at last if perhaps he hadn't been too harsh. Lucrezia stayed still, her shoulders trembling, her face against the fresh grass.
Cesare lay down alongside her, concerned, and tried to turn her over.
“I didn't hurt you really, did I?” he asked.
Lucrezia turned over at this, edging half under him. She smiled.
“You didn't hurt me at all,” she said.
“Well don't be too cocky or I'll give you another,” Cesare warned, a little put out.
Lucrezia trembled against him, her soft flesh moving against his. She put an arm over his shoulders.
“Don't spank me any more, Cesare,” she begged. “It's made me feel all funny.”
Cesare looked down at her. Her flesh against his was an undreamed of torment all of a sudden. His penis felt tight, ready to snap. He knew what went on, but had never seriously considered it. But here was his sister's body all naked and exciting curiosity and a pent-up emotion.
She wriggled under him again, her face close to his and suddenly the other arm had gone around his neck.
“Oh, Cesare!” she said once more. And then she pressed her lips against his.
“Great God,” the Cardinal was muttering. “Great God! Eleven years old and with all the wiles of woman born in her! Cesare my son, consider yourself seduced and your father as a serious rival.” He was hot as a furnace around his loins and his head was tight with lustful concentration.
Cesare kissed her back. He was flushed in a way he hardly understood. Just the touch of her flesh, her lips, her breasts, the round, nude hips against which his prick was pressed, made him feel almost nauseous with desire.
She took her mouth away from his and looked at him with her deep eyes, half-lidded and deeper looking than he'd ever seen them before. She ran her tongue around her lips and wriggled her body against him.
He bent his head and kissed her lips again and ran his mouth violently over her face. He was afraid at the heat inside him and where it would end.
Get in, Cesare, for the Lord's sake, his father was urging through his will. The little minx wants it so much she'll bite off your prick out of spite if you don't manage it.
He watched her wriggling her hips under her brother's and he wished with a great prayer-like wish that he were lying on her now, poising his hot penis beside that soft little crack ready to pump out his life in love of her.
“Oh, Cesare!” he heard her say more softly. Her arms were hugging him, her hands moving gently over his lean shoulders. Her eyes were closed. The Cardinal could see the slightly crushed globes of her breasts prodding up into Cesare's chest, heaving against him like a sea washing the hull of a ship. Her hips were washing like waves against his loins, too.
“Cesare, dear-do you know how to?” she asked breathlessly after a while in which they pressed against each other and kissed, and he felt afraid.
“Have you read about it in books?” she whispered.
“Yes-yes,” he said brokenly.
“Let's do it, Cesare, darling. I feel all tight and it must be the time to do it.”
My God, my God, the Cardinal thought. Listen to my daughter. She might be her mother for the way she's talking and acting. Her tutors would be shocked out of their wits.
Lucrezia pushed her hands down Cesare's back, tentatively, letting the palms run over the long, lean curve until she felt the sudden hard jut of his buttocks. She caressed his buttocks and pushed them at her gently with an inspired instinct. She could feel the heavy heat of his penis on her loins and she wanted him, so desperately, to do what it was they did. Deep in her belly, deep in her being she needed it.
Gently she pressed her face against his and bit him on the neck. He uttered a little gasp and his hands tightened on her shoulders, squeezing them until they hurt. His loins pressed against hers with a new pressure. She felt them slither around against her skin.
Perhaps I should really go out and show them exactly what to do, Cardinal Roderigo was thinking. If he doesn't shove it in and blast her for all he's worth she's likely to turn into a man-hater. He caught his bulging penis through his robes and held it, comforted slightly by the alien pressure.
He watched her hands. What hands, he thought. They moved fluidly, as if in the movements of oft-practiced caresses, over Cesare's back and buttocks. She obviously loved the feel of his skin. He watched her squirming and arching her body upwards. The sexy little bitch'll have an orgasm any minute now, he thought, and then she'll probably be coy and refuse to let him.
But, while his eyes began to bulge at the sight, he saw Cesare slide down on her and, feverishly but inaccurately, push his penis between her legs. At first he was too low. It was as if he intended only to get his knob in, if that. But then Lucrezia, eyes still closed, mouth open, snuggled down against him and brought his knob up against her crotch with a rush.
Cesare prodded uncertainly. Lucrezia in a sudden gust of passion opened her legs wide.
More vague proddings with Cesare breathing so heavily that the Cardinal wondered if his own breathing would reach them.
“That's it! Oh Cesare, Cesare!” The words exploded from her lips and she arched her back, thrusting her breasts up and back with the shock.
Cardinal Roderigo watched Cesare, trembling from head to toes, clamp his little buttocks awkwardly between her thighs as he uncertainly made a bridgehead in her vagina. Lucrezia, too, was trembling and whimpering and holding his shoulders with such force, that the Cardinal could see the flesh white against the boy's tan, where her fingers were digging.
There, there, at last you little witch. The Cardinal's eyes gleamed with vicarious satisfaction. How does it feel, eh? But you won't really know until you've been screwed by your father's royal rammer.
Lucrezia's body was shaking with continual spasms. She kept her hips still, enduring the certain pain, excited beyond endurance at the thrill of Cesare's entry into her well-cared-for treasure. She moved her face against his, brushing his face with her lips, clasping his lips in hers, wanting to swallow his lips.
The Cardinal watched his son gradually advancing through his bridgehead, wriggling awkwardly up into her, squirming his hips up from their rather distant stance between her lower thighs until he was in the correct position for a full thrust.
After a time, as his hard little buttocks rose and fell above her, Lucrezia began to wriggle under him, too, moaning, kissing him passionately, mouthing his name.
Every so often Lucrezia would throw out her arms on the grass and lie there moaning in abandonment for several seconds before clasping them once more and with renewed passion around Cesare's back.
Cesare was panting furiously. His jerking was getting a smooth, more powerful flow, but the Cardinal could see that he hadn't sunk into her to the full and probably wouldn't before he came.
Lucrezia's thighs began to clasp Cesare's hips, rubbing them as she lifted her knees from the ground and twisted her loins in her passion.
When she lifted her knees and her thighs rode up with them forming an angle with the grass, Cardinal Roderigo could see Cesare's penis pushing into her hole. It was in about two thirds of its length and her vaginal lips were sucking it voraciously. He noticed that there wasn't any blood. Cesare would enlarge her just enough to make the shock of his prick, when she got it, not too unbearable.
The sun shone down vividly on the bright green grass and the two passionately-fitted bodies writhing out their exquisite pleasure beside the pool. A fine picture of son and daughter with father watching from the bushes, the Cardinal thought with a chuckle.
Lucrezia's plump buttocks were flattening against the ground, oozing and spreading from under Cesare's hips. She was gasping, uttering his name. Her climax was near. Hot little bitch, her father murmured. What a delight you'll be to me.
“Oh Cesare, Cesare, my darling brother…!” Her words tumbled out in the whine of her breath and she sucked his lips again, straining her body at him. Cesare tried to utter something, failed, and gasped instead.
“Oh Cesare, Cesare! Oh, oh, oh!” She pushed against him so hard that she almost lifted him off the ground on top of her, her buttocks hollowing with the strain; her arms clasped him to her as if she wanted to envelop him with flesh. The breath exploded from her open mouth in a great whoosh as if someone had sat on her belly and expelled it as from a cushion. She gave several wild, self-concerned convulsions and then sank back under him.
Cesare had stopped his action, shaken out of his stride by her passion. She put her arms back around his neck, calmer but still loving and he resumed his hard, probing entry into her vagina.
How sweet — sweet minx, the Cardinal thought passionately. Lie there and wait for him to know the climax of pleasure you've just had.
Lucrezia drew up her thighs a little and the Cardinal could see again where Cesare's penis was still only two thirds in. It was too late now for him to learn the art of complete penetration. His head was rolling on his neck, tendons were standing out on that strong young neck of his and a vein pulsed in his forehead.
Lucrezia whispered, but more lazily this time:
“Cesare, darling Cesare!”
Cardinal Roderigo watched his son's body twist up into the culmination of passion as he pressed his sister into the grass. His breath was coming in a series of quick little gasps, he put his arms around her body hugging it to him, he gasped her name at last, the first time it had ever been gasped in passion.
“Lucrezia… Lucrezia… Aaaaah!”
He convulsed against her, lost control of his movements, actually drew out of her in his excitement and fear at what he was doing and spurted over the grass.
Lucrezia, breathing hard again, stroked his face and shoulders as his hips jerked in the air like a death spasm. She glanced down as he rolled immediately away from her, doubtful and half-ashamed now that it was finished. She saw the thin lines of sperm on the grass, his penis, deflated and small now, with the thin bubble of mucous liquid protruding from the little red nipple at its head.
“Cesare-we've done it,” she whispered. She seemed astonished now.
Cesare didn't look at her. He lay on his stomach with his head in his arms. She rolled over to him.
“Cesare, darling, are you cross; do you wish we hadn't?”
He didn't answer and she put her arms around him in an almost motherly way and kissed his head.
“Cesare — don't wish we hadn't… because then I should feel terrible that I thought it was so wonderful.”
At that Cesare lifted his head and smiled at her.
“That's better,” she said softly. “You did like it didn't you?”
He nodded his head and she kissed him gently on the lips. She glanced around them and the Cardinal crouched softly back. His penis was still as hard and hot as a bar of red-hot iron.
''We'd better have another swim,” Lucrezia was saying. She looked at her brother with her deep eyes. “We will be able to do it again before you go, won't we Cesare?”
Cesare nodded, jumped to his feet, helped her up and took a running dive into the pool.
Lucrezia followed, smiling. And the Cardinal slowly withdrew through the bushes. “The sexy little bitch,” he kept repeating. “The sexy little bitch.”