Innocent VIII lay on his back forming images in his head of his past loves and what he had done with them. That was what he regretted more than anything about his present illness: his doctors had strongly warned him of the danger of any exercise, which had cut out the possibility of having Caterina, his favorite courtesan, brought to satisfy his needs. In spite of his weakness, his sensuality had not left him. In fact, spending all day lying on his back imagining his lovers in all sorts of positions seemed merely to have added to that aspect of his being.
Every so often he thought about the niece that Cardinal Roderigo had told him about. It was so frustrating he could have wept. Now the most he could do was grant her audience and rue the fact that he had not been able to, and would not be able to enjoy her sexually. What a loss! The thought made his stomach turn over. A virgin, beautiful, had said she would do anything for him-even to the extreme of giving herself over to the lusts of the flesh. It needed only a word from him. Innocent felt like weeping, again. Was she as beautiful as Cardinal Roderigo claimed? Could she really have a woman's development at such a youthful age? Anyway he hoped it would not be long before she came to him and then he could truly wallow in self-pity at what he had missed.
For Innocent really doubted his capacity to recover from his present malady-his capacity to recover enough. He saw himself spending the remainder of his life in a continuous convalescence. He would, of course, be waited on hand and foot, and other people would take care of the running of the State although he would hold absolute power still. It was a not unpleasant existence, one that appealed to him. Again the one thing he regretted was his inability to drown himself in the delicious torment of sexual intercourse. But, after all, if he really took great care of himself, perhaps someday…
He clapped his hands and an attendant came around from a screen at the far end of the room.
The attendant bowed and withdrew to reappear almost immediately with a large silver salver piled high with fruit.
Innocent began to eat the grapes slowly, spitting the pips out onto the floor. His fingers caressed the taut, cool skin of each morsel. It reminded him of Caterina's breasts-her whole body. If only
… He cursed suddenly to himself and flung a half eaten grape petulantly across the floor.
Cardinal Roderigo had lost no time in arranging for Lucrezia to return to Rome. The sooner he found himself in St. Peter's chair the safer he would feel.
He had spent a week or two sounding out his situation. It seemed a good one on the face of it. The Medici, who had long been friendly to the House of Borgia, were for him. Venice, Mantua, Genoa, Siena, the Orsini all were for him. Naples doubted him, rightly fearing the possibility of an alliance between him and Charles VIII of France, whose designs on the Neapolitan kingdom were well known. The French themselves favored Cardinal della Rovere as next Pope, but Roderigo was certain that with judicious gifts they could be won over and withdraw their strong backing of their candidate. Now seemed to be as good a time as any for dealing a death blow to Innocent, who, after all, was serving no good purpose lying sick in his bed with the anarchy of his misrule spread around him.
Lucrezia arrived back in Rome with a small cortege of attendants. The city was still given to the ravages of lawlessness and she made haste to her father's house.
There he had her stay for several days, instructing her in what she must do, explaining the necessity of Innocent's removal if the city and state were to survive-and enjoying Lucrezia's body himself the while.
With Lucrezia clear as to the exact-and fairly simple — nature of her duty, audience was arranged between her and the Pope.
Cardinal Roderigo had her dressed for the occasion in richly embroidered, but simple clothes which would show off the womanliness of her body. He had her plaits let out so that her hair flowed, long and silky to below her shoulders; he placed a string of sapphires set in silver around her neck where they gleamed and threw a blue sheen down onto the visible portion of her bosom, and reflected the bright blue of her eyes.
“My darling daughter-you are already the most beautiful woman in Italy,” he declared when she was ready. “The old sensualist will have an orgasm at the very sight of you.”
“Oh, papa, I trust all will go well,” Lucrezia said anxiously. “I feel a little afraid.”
The Cardinal placed a hand on her buttocks and kissed her gently on the neck.
“Don't you worry, my sweet. A beautiful creature such as you can get away with anything she wishes.”
A little later, Lucrezia and her father were ushered into the Pope's chamber. He had propped himself up against his pillows and had his scanty remaining hair brushed and combed. He stared at Lucrezia with unabashed interest, hardly deigning to acknowledge the Cardinal's greeting.
“Truly you did not exaggerate,” he said, not taking his eyes from Lucrezia.
Lucrezia curtsied and fixed him with her lovely, deep, knowing eyes.
“It is a great honor for me to be in the presence of your Excellency,” she said softly as if in awe. “It is more than such a humble creature as myself could have considered in the realms of possibility.”
“Ah, my child — if child you truly be — you are one of the lucky ones who in their natural goodness and humility deserve the highest honors,” the Pope replied with an attempt at a winning smile.
“My niece is overcome in the presence of Christ's Vicar,” Roderigo cut in. “Such an audience has been her life's object. She did not expect to achieve it so soon.”
“I feel unable to speak,” Lucrezia said in a hushed tone. “Your Excellency must forgive me.”
“My child, come here and give me your hands,” Innocent said paternally. “You shall not be afraid of me. Such beauty as you have, particularly if matched by the beauty of soul your uncle gives you, should fear nothing.”
He took her hands in his skinny, cold fingers. He was amazed at her loveliness and the warm hands in his filled him with a yearning to be well and active. It had taken him but a fraction of a second to appraise her body as best he could see it under her dress and now he allowed his eyes the delight of fleeting anew and resting on the exposed portion of her bosom and on her neck, so young and smooth.
“I am afraid, your Excellency, that I cannot stay,” Cardinal Roderigo said. “I have some important business to see to. I trust you will not find a while with my niece too wearisome. Send I her away if she displeases you.”
“My dear Cardinal,” the Pope answered in sugary tones, “surely you forget yourself. As if such an infant of Christ, reflecting as she does the glorious emblem of early-gained woman-hood, could displease me. Pray go your way Cardinal Roderigo, and much as it grieves me to be deprived so soon of your company, I'm sure I could have no more pleasing visitor than your lovely niece.”
Lucrezia wished she knew how to blush at will. But blushes came less easily than tears. She just dropped her head a little, as if overcome at his words. He still held her hands in his.
Cardinal Roderigo bowed and left the chamber. Even as he stepped over the threshold his thoughts were racing with plans for when the Pope was dead.
Innocent watched the exit of his Cardinal. The girl's hands were still warm in his. He didn't speak until Roderigo had left and the door had closed after him. Then he looked back at Lucrezia with eye which he tried to make kindly.
“But tell me my dear, is it really true that you are only eleven years old?”
“I shall be twelve in a few weeks' time,” she replied demurely.
“My child, you have matured far beyond your age. God has seen fit to prepare you for womanhood — who can tell what his wishes for you are.”
The Pope's mind gloated over her. He could have given his answer to the question he'd just posed. He looked into her face. Truly those eyes were remarkable. There was… what was there? There was
… yes, there was an aura of the devil about them. His eyes widened as this intuition came to him. But then Lucrezia smiled, as if in flattery at his remarks, a shy, innocent smile and Innocent dismissed the devil from her eyes. What nonsense!
“You are studying, I believe, my child. Tell me, how do you find yourself disposed to the acquisition of knowledge?”
“My studies are simple,” she replied. “I find the knowledge of good and evil much more difficult.”
In view of his own thoughts, the Pope was quite startled by her words. What precocious thoughts. And what, exactly, did she mean?
“Good and evil, my dear?” he echoed querulously.
Lucrezia suddenly spoke earnestly; she allowed tears to come into her eyes. She hoped she was sounding convincing.
“Your Excellency, I dared not tell my uncle, but I'm beset by problems. That is why I was so anxious for this audience. I knew that in the light of your holiness and wisdom, I should find guidance.”
The Pope stared at her. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn which had almost thrown him out of his stride.
“My dear,” he said at last, “you are very young and it may well be that the Lord will send you guidance through me. If you would pour out your heart to me, do so.”
So far, so good, Lucrezia thought with an inward smile. She allowed a tear to slip over her cheek. The Pope responded to this display of femininity by pressing her hands.
“My child, my child,” he said — rather theatrically, she thought — "I had no idea you were so upset.”
“Most Holy Father,” she blurted, “for most of my life I have known what is good and right — and indeed I still do — but recently things have happened which have made me doubt my strength and courage to continue along the path which I know is that of God.”
“Tell me, child, tell me.”
Innocent's interest was quickening. This confession from one so young and beautiful and now so obviously upset might prove very entertaining — on the other hand it might be dismally dull. He moved his hands on hers as if comforting her. He wished he could move them on her breasts.
“It is so terrible — I–I don't think I can.”
“Now, child,” the Pope made his voice slightly stern. He didn't want to miss this now. “You surely would not try to hide anything from God — and I am his representative on this Earth. You can confide in me without fear.”
Lucrezia hesitated a minute, cleverly.
“You must forgive me, Holy Father,” she whispered pathetically.
“Don't be afraid,” he replied majestically. “God is love. All sinners may be forgiven their sins.”
“Well, your Excellency, as I began to tell you, until recently my life was blameless. As a child, they tell me I was extremely good and always obeyed. I was brought up to understand the difference between Good and Evil — it all seemed very simple. A saintly life did not seem an impossible idea.” She paused, and another tear slipped down her face. She brushed it away and tossed back her hair nervously.
“Until — until a little while ago, I visited a friend's house and the friend put me in charge of her eldest son. I liked him very much… and he talked to me. He told me lots of things about men and women until my mind was all confused with what he told me.” She stopped and hung her head, letting the tears flow more freely.
The Pope forced himself to fight against impatience. He thought he was beginning to catch on. What a delightful story. What an unexpected enjoyment this afternoon was providing him.
“Go on, dear. God and I are with you.”
“And finally,” Lucrezia went on brokenly, “he didn't stop with talk. He… took me in the grounds and he kissed me and… and… I believed him… it seemed right… it seemed right… I was all confused… until after it was over I knew I had been wicked.”
The Pope's thought dwelt on the unmentioned, the undescribed. God, what a lucky fellow this friend was. The thought sent shivers up and down his spine. He felt a ripple in his loins which he knew he should smother or the frustration would be too terrible.
“My dear,” he said, after a due interval for consideration, in which Lucrezia broke down and sobbed quietly and he paternally pulled her closer and put an arm around her. “My dear, you had a terrible experience and this man — he should be whipped — took advantage of your innocence in a most unscrupulous way. But, my dear, it often happens that young girls deceive themselves about the seriousness of what has happened. You say that he kissed you and then made advances. That is not too bad, after all.”
As he had hoped, his dimness brought a protest from her.
“Oh, but… Holy Father… he did more than that.”
“But he may not have done what I fear, my child. Tell me what he did. Don't be afraid or confused. We are in the presence of the Almighty Lord.”
Lucrezia hesitated, as if overcoming a great reluctance.
“I was wearing only a long shift, because it was so hot,” she said. “It was modest — it came down to my ankles. But after he had kissed me — it was in a tiny copse in the grounds out of sight of the house — he put his hands on my bottom… and — he — he pressed me against him so that I suddenly felt quite faint. And he put his tongue in my mouth and told me to do the same and he felt all over my body with his hands…”
She wiped away a tear. The Pope's hand had tightened around her. She had given him an erection. He couldn't wait to hear the rest of the story.
“Go on, my child. Forget nothing. I must know how far it went in order to pray.”
“Well, first of all it was over my shift. He felt me all over and everywhere he touched me, particularly when he put his hand between my legs, he made me feel faint. And then I felt so dizzy and helpless that I suggested we sit down. We sat down on the grass beside a tree and, before I really knew what he was doing, he took my shift right off and left me lying there without any clothes on at all. I was
… I was very frightened, but then… then he started feeling me all over again and I only remember the rest as if I were dreaming…”
“What do you remember, my dear? If you tell me you will be rid of it. You will have confessed.”
“He… he kissed me all over — my mouth, my neck, my shoulders, my… my breasts and everything. And then he put his finger inside me… in between my legs. It made me feel as if I were swooning. I remember thinking that it was wrong, but then it seemed so strong and necessary that I even believed him and thought it might be right after all.
“And then after he'd had his finger in me for some time I began to get terribly excited — even though it was rather painful. I think he put more fingers in me then, because I… I felt more pain and I asked him to stop… but… he wouldn't and I hadn't the strength to push him away. He went on like that for some time until it wasn't painful any more… and sometimes he stopped and just kissed me and felt my breasts. And when he did that I wanted him to put his fingers back inside me again because I felt empty and naked as if I needed something…
“And then he seemed to leave me for a minute and I just lay there because I was too giddy and too frightened to move. But then he lay down beside me again and pushed me back and I could feel that he was naked, too.
“Then I became very frightened. Because I knew he was going to do something terrible. But… but one part of me kept telling me that it wasn't wrong and that I wanted it and that he was right and it would be all right…
“He put his fingers back inside me and he told me to open my thighs wide. I must have done it although I don't remember deciding I would… because… because — oh Father, it's too terrible!”
The Pope, agog with ill-concealed excitement, had one hand on his erect penis under the sheets. He was inflamed by the story she was telling him about herself in her soft voice, with her head bowing against his shoulder in shame and agony.
“Go on, child,” he said, with a great attempt at majestic calm. “You are bound to finish it now.”
After a few sobs, Lucrezia continued, as if reluctantly.
“The next thing… he was… he was lying on top of me and he had my thighs wide open and he… he was pushing himself at me.. pushing his… his… you know, Father, against mine until suddenly… oh… suddenly it was in and he was — he was making love to me completely… and he went on and on and he got terribly excited and so did I… I was almost fainting… and there was a little pain… and… and he began to gasp and groan and then… and then he made a great noise… and… and it was all over… it was finished.”
“My poor child, my poor child,” (oh to have been that young man! the Pope thought) “what a terrible time.”
“Of course, afterwards,” Lucrezia added, through her tears, “I was terribly sorry and ashamed at what had happened — and terribly embarrassed. But… but he laughed at me and tried to — what he called — reason with me. But I knew I'd done wrong.”
The Pope was silent for a while, letting her cry against his shoulder. He appeared to be deliberating. In fact, he was trying to live through what had just been described, trying to imagine every part of her body — the secret, intimate places, trying to imagine that enormous emotional chill that was felt at the moment of entry. Oh, he had been ill and unable for so long. He felt overcome with self-pity and defiance. His penis was hot in his hand, and aching with repressed longing.
“What you did, my child, was wrong in those circumstances,” he said at last. “But you have little to reproach yourself for. We all sin — it is inescapable and some sins are greater than others. But you are only a young girl — even though you may have the appearance of a woman — and you were led astray by an older man who, obviously, well knew how to prey upon what, after all, are perfectly natural appetites. The fault is entirely his, my child. God will forgive you, have no fear. His mercy is boundless.”
Lucrezia took a deep breath behind her veil of mock tears.
“But, Holy Father, the main trouble has come after the event. I told you I was having difficulty about Good and Evil. Well… I find, now, that I'm beset with overwhelming desires to repeat what happened. I do my best to overcome them, but I'm likely to give way at any moment.”
“I see — I see.”
Innocent's hand moved slightly on his prick. He felt very disturbed. This was better and better, but the thought that he couldn't take advantage of it was killing him.
“Have you seen the young man since?”
“No, your Excellency. I do all in my power to keep away from him. But I feel the desire with any man — oh I know it's terrible. You must think I'm unbelievably wicked.”
“Not at all, my child, not at all,” Innocent reassured her. That hand in mine is so near, he was thinking. I could just take it and put it on my prick under the sheets. It would take about two seconds in time and mean moving it a distance of thirty centimeters.
“You have had an experience,” he said, “which was bound to shake you to your roots. It has opened up a whole new channel of experience…” He grinned to himself at his words. “And, naturally given you a desire for sensations and emotional experiences that you hardly realized existed. We all have these desires, my dear. Don't think you are alone.”
“But what must I do?” Lucrezia pleaded.
She could see his erection through the sheets and the coverlets. So papa had been right. He would want to. So far, very good. But now she had to take what chances came to her. She rested her head against his shoulder so that her lightly perfumed hair was brushing against his face. Leaning forward toward him, she was able to expose much more of her bosom — showing him more than a third of their rounded fullness.
“It is probable,” the Pope said slowly, “that you've built up a myth around this one occasion when you made love. And because it seems so unholy and wicked to you, you therefore, in your deprivation, desire it the more — a very natural reaction.
“In very few cases would I suggest this course of cure. But you know, to overcome a greater, even God will allow a lesser evil. So it may be that if you permitted yourself intercourse just once again — and without any feeling of wrongdoing to add to the excitement — you would get the whole necessity out of your system. At least, you would rid yourself of its full power as you now feel it and would pave the way to a beginning at controlling it. This may seem a very strange recommendation, but reflect, my lamb, that the ways of God are often strange beyond belief — but always with the end in mind. If, by this means, you can help to overcome the acuteness of your desires and thus, eventually, overcome them completely, you will have taken the right and only course. If you go on as you are you will either go mad or give way again and again until you are no better than the lowest whore.”
There was a long silence after his words. Lucrezia let her hand slip from his and flop against his thigh, as if accidentally, in weariness. She could feel his skinny thigh under the coverlet — and against the side of her hand she could feel the rising bulge of his erection. Knowledge of his desire had given her course to be bold.
“I thank you, Holy Father. I'm sure your advice is good. And as it is your advice I'm willing to follow it with a glad heart — even though of my own willing the idea must have seemed wrong to me. I see that it may well be the only way. But there is one thing that frightens me still.”
“What is that, my child?”
“Holy Father, it's just something I feel. It hardly makes sense. But I'd know that it was simply lust in the man with whom I made love. I'd know that although I was trying to purge myself, that he was on a different plane simply using me as an object of his passion. Although I could have holy aims and thoughts about what I was doing, it would shame me that the man would feel completely differently.”
The Pope turned this over in his mind, gloating, playing cat with the mouse, unaware that he was being outplayed, that his thoughts were being directed along channels which would lead to the inevitable. Amidst his thoughts he was aware of her hand against his erection, the slight pressure making him involuntarily strain the mast up against her hand, trusting that she wouldn't realize what was happening.
“I think I could only do it, now, after what you've said, with someone who knew why I was doing it and sympathized and made love to me with the intention of curing my desires,” Lucrezia told him.
“For that you would need the holiest of men,” said the Pope innocently.
“Yes,” Lucrezia replied from his shoulder, “the holiest of men.”
She raised her head and stared into his eyes for several seconds.
The Pope felt her words sinking into his mind like a physical force. They startled and excited him — and her look heightened the effect. He was sure, now, that it would be a simple matter. The girl was very susceptible; she would really imagine she was ridding herself of evil.
Slowly he looked at her breasts again. How lovely they would look swinging free to the air. And her body! What would her body be like? And how would her face look screwed up and lost in passion. His hand clenched over his erection in a fierce surge of emotion. He couldn't pass up such an opportunity — even if it was the last thing he did. The last thing! He wondered. But doctors always exaggerated. It was part of their business to frighten the patient into submission. And surely he wouldn't feel so much like having intercourse with her if it were likely to do him any real harm.
Lucrezia had seen the lust in Innocent's eyes. She had very nearly won. She wondered what it would be like with such an old man, but the thought didn't appall her — in fact she rather liked the idea of being screwed by fatherly old men. The contrast between their balding heads, her golden locks, her young, firm body and their slack flesh added to her excitement, made the whole thing seem less permissible.
Without looking up she raised her hand to her cheek and then allowed it to drop back casually onto the bed-onto his stiff penis. She could feel the bulge under her hand and she felt him tense with her touch.
The Pope felt his breath rise up through his body, as if from his loins, strangling him in a weight of emotion. This was it; this was the moment of choice — but it was already too late to choose. Knowing the inevitable he nonetheless raced through a number of arguments in his mind against having her. But now her fingers were moving gently on his penis, stabbing it with needles of fire and she had raised her eyes to his again, was looking deeply into him as if she knew the depths of his soul.
“You are the holiest of men,” she whispered. And her mouth opened gently and her eyes closed as if she were overcome at the awe the thought inspired.
He seized her then and drew her up to him.
“We will drive the evil out of you,” he said with a voice he could hardly control. “Together we will prove the strength of the Lord.” Inside he burned with excitement and laughed madly at his hypocritical words. He would do it. He would screw her young-girl flesh, fill her young-girl passage with his holy mace — if it was his very last act he would do it.
“I will do anything you think should be done,” Lucrezia whispered, with a fine show of youthful, feminine weakness. So saying she pressed her breasts into him and pushed her young body alongside his in a sign of submission.
Innocent's lips trembled with lust. He tried to think clearly for a moment, forcing his thoughts away from a desire to rip her clothes from her with his ebbing strength.
“We are unlikely to be disturbed,” he said softly. “My attendants wait in the antechamber when I have visitors, but against emergency perhaps you would go and bolt that door, my dear — and then you can remove your clothes — behind the screen if you wish — and come back here.”
Lucrezia ran her hand along his hard tower and then obediently got up from the bed and went to the oak door. She slid the heavy bolt across, looked back to the bed, smiled nervously at the Pope and slipped behind the screen.
She took a fair time about undressing, flinging her garments one by one onto the top of the screen. She peered through one of the cracks at the join of the two panels and saw Innocent's eyes avidly taking in the items of clothing which had intimately draped her body. What a lustful old man he is, she thought-and with all that nonsense about the strength of the Lord. She sniggered to herself. She'd show him her strength and see how he stood up to that.
She pressed her hands down her buttocks. God, what a thrill he was going to have doing that-astonishing that her own body meant so little to her. She smoothed her belly and glanced down at the globes of her breasts. She felt a little nervous about what this was all leading to, but when she glanced for the last time through the crack and saw the Pope playing with himself so obviously under the sheets she took heart and walked around the screen, utterly naked, toward the bed.
Innocent's eyes goggled at her as she came toward him, with head bowed slightly.
“Don't be afraid of your nakedness-you have a rare beauty,” he said in an attempt to sound pontifical. But his eagerness seeped into the words making them sound comic.
Lucrezia raised her head and fixed her eyes on him. She had adopted an expression of young and tender helplessness.
Innocent let his gaze rifle her from top to toe. What beautiful proportions! If he couldn't have had her now he would have been willing to die rather than live with the memory of her body denied him.
Her slender neck ran into slim, sloping shoulders, well-covered with flesh; her breasts were firm and impudent, the sleek ovals begged to be cupped in a hand, to be squeezed. Her waist was very slim, which accentuated the sexy outward curve of her hips and the tapering into firm luscious-fleshed thighs. He could see the slight trace of blonde down on her lower belly and what was little more than a shadow of flesh at the nest between her legs.
Halfway toward him she turned and went back to the door to look at the bolt, as if afraid she hadn't fastened it completely. Her ruse to show off her body was effective.
Innocent strained up in bed, his old penis throbbing at the sight of her oval buttocks which shadowed into gentle hollows as she walked. Seen from the back her waist seemed even slimmer in comparison with her hips, filled out as they were by those incomparable buttocks. What a rump! His fingers itched to hold it in his hands.
Lucrezia came toward the bed once more, quickly this time, and the Pope stretched out his arms toward her.
“We must make it as if we were completely given to the lusts of the flesh,” he said hoarsely. “If there is any self-consciousness about our lovemaking it will fail to satisfy and exorcise.”
She slipped into his arms and threw back her head as he began, feverishly, to kiss her breasts. He released her and grasped a breast in each hand, sucking the points as if they were trumpets, Lucrezia felt cold shivers slide convulsively down her spine. She abandoned herself to his lips which ran all over the top part of her body, sucking as if he wanted to draw blood from her skin.
She put her arms around his skinny body and pressed his head against her breasts. He Was quivering with excitement.
His hands began frantically to explore her body, moving down her back, smoothing her buttocks, gripping them, catching them in voluptuous handfuls of flesh; he ran his fingers along the warm ravine of cleavage between them, pressed the puckered flesh of her anus until she squirmed and whimpered; he stroked her thighs and sought her lips with his. His breath smelled of bad teeth and his tongue was rough. When she poked her fresh, little tongue back through his lips she felt spaces where some of his teeth were missing.
The Pope began to pant with a mixture of excitement and shortness of breath through his efforts. His heart was pounding unhealthily. But his penis was as stiff as a ramrod.
In a very short time his hands, which had savagely ravished her body, lingered over her most intimate parts with a dalliance which betrayed his utter sensuality, became insufficient instruments for his lustful satisfaction.
With each fistful of flesh he clenched-but-tucks, breasts, belly, her vaginal lips, his hands showed a wild catholicity-his hips strained up under the sheets and his penis pulsated like barrels of heated gunpowder.
With a shock, sudden and overwhelming as if cold water had been poured on his loins, the Pope felt Lucrezia's cool hands slip under the sheets and enclose the burning heat of his prick in their soothing balm. He shuddered from head to toes.
Her fingers soothed and caressed with what he would have remarked as practiced excellence had he not been so immersed in his own feelings and satisfaction. Then, gently, they began to rub up and down the stiff, brittle-seeming stem of flesh.
The Pope's lips moved the way they did when he prayed.
“For God's sake get into bed!” he managed to utter at last.
Lucrezia quickly slipped under the sheets, with his clawing hands helping her in.
His body was cold against hers-the body of an old bloodless man-an astonishing contrast overall with the heat of his penis, the one part of him truly alive.
She pressed the warm overflow of her flesh against the chilly skinniness, warming him, exciting him so that his hands jumped over her body, unable to keep still on her.
Innocent's lips shivered an accompaniment to his quivering body. He had seldom come across such a completely rounded, filled-out delight of womanliness and his hands could hardly take sufficient fill.
He squirmed as her hand moved off his penis, running down it, skimming over its base and teasing his testicles and the growing nucleus of heat between his old thighs.
Lucrezia, too, was squirming with delight as his fingers brushed her vagina and pierced into its moist outskirts. She rolled over on top of him, infusing his body with her soft warmth. She pressed down on him and rubbed her hips voluptuously against his prick which she felt rolling like a length of doughy bread between them, a length of hot, newly-baked bread.
His skinny old arms encircled her, pulling her at him, his hips pressed up against her, indenting her slight, sensual superfluity of flesh.
Gently, for several minutes they pressed together, with his hands holding her buttocks, his lips sucking her open mouth. And then she wriggled up a little on him until his prick waved wildly between her slightly opened thighs, cleaving up so that she could feel its upper side against her labia and against her buttocks.
She broke from his ardent kissing and levered herself toward an upright position, sitting across his loins, one thigh on either side of his body. She caught his rod in her hand, gave it a last squeeze, knelt up and placed it against the open mouth of her vagina.
The Pope raised his head from its horizontal position and let his eyes augment the pleasure of his bodily senses.
He watched her hold his penis toward her poised aperture, lower herself gently and then flop down on it with a gasp of pent-up breath. Immediately he felt an abandonment of his soul; it rushed down through his body to the head of his penis which was caught in the powerful contractions of her channel. It made the rest of his body, his mind, seem so much putty, so much lifeless clay. It was only down there at that one slim tube of living flesh that there was any reason for existence. The rest of him could have died if only that would go on living forever and ever amen, living and feeling, being squeezed in her slim channel which descended and rose on it, tightly, firmly, wetly, deliciously, forever and ever so that his lips began to mutter feverish, delirious obscenities.
Lucrezia plunged down on that stiff pike, feeling it tear up inside her as if a pikesman had made a fierce homeward thrust. Her breasts jumped with her plunges, her thighs sank lower and lower, her knees slithered farther away from his body on either side until the whole of her crotch was pressed against and around the base of his organ and the staff itself was totally contained inside her juicy tunnel.
From time to time she opened her closed eyes or brushed the hair from her face. Then she would see the Pope lying back, only his hips tensed, moving up at her in slight undulations as she descended. She would see his lips moving and his white strained face. And through her own stimulation which wetly inflamed her trounced passage she had the double satisfaction of knowing that things were going according to plan.
The Pope, too, opened his eyes ever so often and fixed her with his gaze. Then-and it took very little acting on her part-she would screw up her beautiful face in passion, to excite him, mutter obscenities herself and let her hair swing forward over her face in abandonment.
His body began to writhe and twist as his penis sank deeper and deeper into her moist, hot body. It was frail and bony and covered now with a thin film of perspiration.
He could feel the pounding of his heart. It seemed to fill his ears and his whole body. He was panting wildly, but having difficulty in breathing. But these discomforts seemed to add rather than detract from the pure exquisite quality of his sensation. The physical torture of his body whipped up his senses to a fine point of receptivity.
Through half-closed eyes he watched her full breasts leap and sway in their smooth, glossy skin; he felt her thighs warmly press into his loins as she came down, impaling herself on the rod which had impaled so many times before her and which, in spite of the Pope's weakness was still in a state of perfect workability — the only part of him which functioned as always.
He was getting more and more excited. A thrumming in his loins joined with a thrumming in his chest and ears.
Lucrezia pressed harder and harder on him, giving him no respite, drawing herself right up above him, so that only the knob of his organ remained nestled in the warm pink portals of her sex and then crashing down again so that she felt that spear of flesh soar up inside her with a movement which made her stomach turn over. At the end of the downward stroke she ground her crotch and buttocks against him, squirming on him for a few seconds until gasps burst from his lips.
Occasionally his hands twitched out to her and managed to grasp and feebly squeeze her thighs or even reach to her breasts.
So furious was her youthful onslaught that she began to feel the excitement of culmination and forced herself to slow down the pace so as not to lose any ferocity of attack until Innocent was ready to come himself.
The Pope was no longer chill. His whole frame was flushed with a pink heat which was a frame between his legs. His prick felt bloated, aching and growing up to an ecstatic bursting point. His thighs and back ached with the upward pressure he'd continuously exerted at Lucrezia's bobbing crotch.. The drumming in his ears was almost unbearable. He was trying desperately to force the explosion at his prick before there was an explosion in his head or in his chest.
His breathing had become a pitiful consumptive whine but Lucrezia showed no mercy at his tortured, pathetic state.
Innocent opened his eyes. In his aching head he suddenly felt a power of great emotion. She was beautiful, so beautiful and innocent and trying to do right. He would keep her after this day; he would keep her and look after her and any future intercourse she had would be with him and then she'd be able to enjoy it because she could tell herself always that it was purifying her, giving her a holy outlet for desires which would, of course, continue to beset her.
In that moment Innocent felt that he loved the child with the woman's body. He wanted to reach out and hold her to him, but he no longer had the strength and he had already closed his eyes and become acutely conscious once again of his prick which seemed to be swelling in her so that it seemed it might never come out again.
He writhed his loins against her. The desire to come was intolerable and yet he couldn't quite seem to manage it. It would happen, but his head felt as if it was splitting and his chest was constricted and he hoped it would hurry.
Feebly he tensed his thighs, felt a twinge of cramp and relaxed them again. He pressed his abdomen against her descending nether parts. He opened his eyes again and fixed her with a gaze which did not take her in clearly.
Lucrezia sensed from his writhing, his agonized expression, his gasps and groans that the end was approaching and she unleashed her body and began to pummel him for all she was worth, letting herself be carried away by her own momentous passion.
She could feel her loins swarming as if a thousand snakes were writhing inside. She released a stream of gasping cries which broke through the blackness in Innocent's head and revived in him a last flush of passion so that he thrust his loins up at her, mumbled painfully through dry lips, groaned agonizingly in an evident warning climax and clenched his fingers into her thighs with a last strength.
Dazedly he opened his eyes again. His loins seemed to be covered with a sticky wetness amidst Lucrezia's meanings. His prick felt grazed, beaten, full of something that must escape. He saw her face mistily, head thrown back-beautiful neck-lips moving. His fingers dug hard into her fleshy thighs in a last paroxysm of life. He felt the climax near… on him… there! He gasped deliriously, felt his penis explode as if in a thousand pieces, fought for breath, fought for consciousness, felt himself losing both, tried to appeal to her with his eyes and slowly slipped off into a painful darkness.
Lucrezia had echoed his feelings with precision. Her flood of sensation had swamped up in her loins with a dragging delightful pain, swamped up and over just as his prick had seemed to be at its biggest in her so that she felt it would smash right through her and up into her belly.
For some seconds afterwards, still excited and hardly knowing where she was, she had swayed about on his prostrate body and then she had flopped down on top of him.
It took her almost a minute to begin to collect her wits.
The first thing she realized was that Innocent was not just lying still through exhaustion. He had lost consciousness. Lucrezia wasn't dismayed: this was all part of the plan-except that it appeared to be succeeding almost beyond expectations.
Swiftly, methodically, she got up and dressed. With the inside of her dress she wiped away any tell-tale signs of the Pope's incontinence and then she rearranged the bed and his body. After that she collected herself for a moment, checked everything, quietly went to the door and unbolted it. She tiptoed back to Innocent's bed, let out a high-pitched scream and rushed back toward the door.
She hadn't reached it before it was flung open and two attendants rushed in.
Lucrezia pointed to the bed.
“God protect us,” she cried. “His Holiness just passed out in the middle of talking.”