The impact of an historical novel depends precisely upon the reader's understanding of the culture with which the writing is backgrounded. In The Ruthless Dromedas we find every element apparent in the early Nineteenth Century culture of Northern Italy, some sketchily outlined or suggested because of their relative unimportance in the flow of the narrative, others graphically detailed as the characters become enmeshed in the erotic and sadistic turmoils of their associations.
To test the validity of the gross brutalities and sexual extremes of the Dromedas and their unfortunate Austrian relative, one needs only to reread the history of the Borgias, the Papal conspirators and the feudal barons of central Europe. Hamlin Gage dates this novel less than fifty years after the horrendous escapades of the Marquis de Sade and his intense exposures of a most active segment of the corrupt and amoral population. No writer, no matter his creative ability, could possibly exceed the ruthless realities of this historical period; few writers have grasped the breadth of then unnamed psychologies with the candor and deliberateness as used in The Ruthless Dromeda. Throughout the narrative, one is very conscious of the aplomb with which the involved people deal in brutality, perversion and every form of sexual deviation, without more than a symbolic awareness of right and wrong. Again, this is an accurate depiction of the 'culture of the times,' when might was permission and theocratic uncertainty made each man's interpretation of his deeds a matter of private desire.
Except in rare instances, the similarity between twins is largely a matter of environment. One learns an affinity for the other because of proximity and social acceptance of the novelty; often the enforced duality results in massive rejection once the age of individual ability to reason is achieved. The difference between Guiseppe and Giacomo seems plainly defined, yet in the mild twin's unreasonable ignorance of his wife's sexual potential, he found cruelty the antidote for his incorrect analysis of her character and the nature of his cruelty, blows and curses and the ruthless sodomization of her helpless person, suggests that he needed only vitality and experience to be as sadistic as his brother. Since the science of genetics has prospered, one hesitates to predict a psychology involving blood relationships until time has tested and refuted premature conclusions.
Psychologically, most forms of emotional deviation are mental and do not become cancerous until physical expressions occur. Once an emotional deviation is physically achieved, the thought loses luster and the mind moves to more drastic concepts, which require more drastic actions and thusly, the gymnastics of mind and body accelerate until the only control is opportunity, or lack of it. This is predominantly true of the sadomasochistic syndromes. Countless police records show that preceding some ultimate act of raging sadism, the protagonist had persistently indulged in ever increasing violence toward a victim, or victims, regardless of their cooperation. In the case of Giacomo, who lived in a time when ultimates were seldom punishable among the upper, or controlling, social levels, the scope of his sadism could only widen.
In the matter of Maria, the nymphomaniacal aunt, Hamlin Gage has apparently departed the accepted pattern of psychiatric progression, but cold analysis of her character shows a positive masochistic leaning coupled with a massive capacity to translate almost every stimulus into a sexual experience, including the incestual liaison between her six year old daughter and her nine year old nephew during which she was a frenzied voyeur and a compulsive masturbator. Under all circumstances, voyeurism is a form of masochism the deliberate dangling of the unobtainable carrot before the desiring rabbit. Masturbation, the most universal expression of sexual inspiration, has at one level or another, borne whatever label was required to support an analysis of intention. If the final scene in The Ruthless Dromedas seems to invert Maria's basic characterization, it must be remembered that Gage firmly established her weird and unreasonable devotion to her rogue nephew and that she had acquired the positive ability to suffer vicariously as he destroyed his victims.
Taurina stands as a pitiable non-entity, a faceless alcoholic who subscribed to any degradation because in subscription, she claimed at least a few moments of physical worth. Gage gave her nothing to do in the narrative except add depth to the sexuality of both her mother and Giacomo. He made a faint attempt to justify her dedication to vice by describing her as a thin, ugly and unattractive female which description fits a third of the mothers in the world and many of its most successful courtesans.
No determined attempt should be made to analyze Helena, although she exhibits massive psychological potentials in her reactions to many situations. She came first from what was historically a decadent Austrian hierarchy. Secondly, she was but seventeen, a protected daughter of a social order notorious for its careless use of blooded women as political pawns, exchangeable bed-partners and brood mares. Her nuptial rape by Guiseppe was not without ample precedent, but in Helena's case, the mental and physical shock was closely followed by a succession of inverted incidents which managed only to increase her natural confusion. That she was susceptible to the lesbian antics of her maid, and the intense perversity of Maria brands her only as a girl of strong sexual urges with no knowledge of selectivity. Attacked by a brutal dildo in the hands of an accomplished bi-sexual, Helena wept for her husband, believing that the over-emphasized totality of a human penis could cure her delight in deviate adventure.
Forcefully, if rather hastily, Hamlin Gage has developed a pseudo-sexuality in Helena which made her capable of absorbing and succumbing to any and all forms of sexual excess. Her eventual 'aimless crawling' was attributed to her torturer's understanding of her susceptibility to erotic inspiration. To achieve his sadistic orgasm, he needed only to completely frustrate Helena's mental and physical sensuality. Once this was accomplished, the truly sadistic Giacomo was required to take the ultimate step and destroy her physically.
Secondarily, The Ruthless Dromedas stands as a study in morbid psychology in which the reader may identify with carefully detailed acts and attitudes before only defined as ghostly and well subdued instincts of the subconscious mind.
It stands as irrefutable that this book could not have been published a few years ago, not only because of its candid and explanatory passages but because its sub-theme of evil for evil's sake was not acceptable in the mores of pre-modern literature. Psychologically, we may thank that traditional refusal to accept the ugly, substantiated facts of life for the degree of human ignorance that this century has faced in the matter of the humanities. Fortunately, modern man has finally realized that for every good there must be a compensating bad, and to avoid the disaster of Pollyanna, we must learn to accept both sides of the easily tilted scale. And to be not so completely certain of what is good and what is bad. A fair share of both is unavoidable.
Finally, we would like to descend from the theoretical pedestal built by forty years in the business of psychological research and remark that unless the reader lives in some hysterical universe we do not yet know about, The Ruthless Dromedas is exceptionally entertaining.
Albert G. Lowen, Ph.D. December, 1968
CHAPTER ONE
Guiseppe Galetia Dromeda was quite pleased with himself. At the age of twenty-four, handsome, aristocratic and slightly naive, he had become a man and a power to reckon with in the province of Venitia. He had paid the huge tax assessment levied by the Austrian conquerors, half in cash and half by the simple expedient of marrying the seventeen year old daughter of the Assessor, Count Heinrich Von Fabring; the shock and pleasure of breaking the maidenhead of the dear sweet girl at his side had been considerable. The number of virgins among both the Italian and Austrian gentry of Venice was dramatically small. Now he leaned over and patted Helena's nervous hand and pointed out of the carriage window.
"There, my dear," he said. "Il Castello di Dromeda! Your castle awaits the blessings of your graciousness and the glory of your beauty. Ah, my darling wife! I know my family, small as it now is, will love you as I do. Are you pleased to be approaching your new home, dear Helena?"
Her nod did not guarantee much enthusiasm but in the five days since their elegant wedding in Venice her enthusiasms had been much slower to develop than his. She was a shy one, reticent and demure, a slim blonde beauty who had fired Guiseppe's blood from the very first. The fact that his marriage to Helena also assured him of a strong political advantage made her doubly desirable; he was sure that her glowing father had been most anxious to marry off his pretty daughter to a Dromeda because with his twin brother, Giacomo, Guiseppe represented the last of the lusty clan. The first wedded brother had the best chance of producing the first son, and first sons held positive claims on family wealths.
Now as the carriage wound its way up the tree-lined road toward the huge stone castle on the hill, Guiseppe pointed out to his bride the two small villages, the winery, the stone dam that banked adequate water for the vineyards below, and the gently forested areas where he and Giacomo had played at hunting in their youth.
"Your brother," she asked. "Is he like you, my husband?"
Guiseppe frowned. "Physically, yes. It is virtually impossible to tell us apart, except that in later years, he has become well, a bit more ancestral than I, my dear."
"I sense disapproval in your words, do I not?"
His frown deepened. His twin brother was not one of Guiseppe's favorite topics. "We were once inseparable," he said. "Then our interests divided, somehow. He became the swordsman, the hunter, and I remark his return to an ancestral status because he ranges the countryside like the brigands I'm afraid the original Dromedas were! He cares little for the finery of a gentleman, and nothing at all for the responsibilities of the estate. I confess that he is a charming rogue and I have often envied his ease of manner with people and fair ladies. On the other hand, it is to me the countryside turns in matters of economy and politics."
"You do not like Giacomo," she persisted. "I sense it."
"It is not I who does not care for Giacomo, it is he who does not approve of me," Guiseppe corrected her. "But in any matter involving the welfare of Dromeda, we stand solidly together.
And for once, I am sure he is going to be jealous of my fortune in marrying you! Ah, sweet Helena, you have made me very, very happy."
She squeezed his fingers affectionately, a gratifying gesture because he was not entirely sure he had made her very, very happy. It was not a matter of position or wealth, but as in most marriages of state and diplomatic convenience, he had not known much about Helena before their nuptial night and she had known nothing of him. It had been impossible for him to confess that he had no idea of how to approach a virginal woman, particularly one who expected him to be a masterful spouse and a gratifying lover. His few adventures in the field of feminine accomplishment had been in the houses of prostitution during the years he and Giacomo had spent in the academies of Naples and Rome, and Guiseppe had fared badly, his innate shyness unable to understand that such pretty women could conceivably be common whores.
Faced with joining his bride in their private chambers after the elaborate marriage ceremonies and the gala reception, he had felt as helpless as a fish out of water. Her excitement and anticipation had been obvious in the pulse of her throat and the flush of her face. However shy and incompetent he had felt, the log of his distended cock had nested heavily in his trouser leg and he had felt the fever in his traditionally huge Dromeda balls. Away from the press of laughing friends and slightly leering acquaintances, his natural passions had built almost to the bursting. Naked, his cock up-angled in furious impatience, he had been forced to wait thirty minutes while Helena had prayed and primped. By then, Guiseppe had been reduced to something less than a gentleman, and physically distended to a thick twenty centimeters. When she had entered the bedchamber, he was stroking it to ease its ache and he had leaped up and forward in badly controlled lust.
At first, she had stared at his big, thickly-haired body as if he were a stranger, her blue Austrian eyes as round as fifty lira coins. "Oh, God, no!" she had gasped but Guiseppe had swept her gowned body into his arms, his palms and fingers feeling of her solid flesh and the magnificent arrangement of breasts and hip, his nose twitching over her warmth and delicate body odor. His prick had jabbed hard to her belly then down between her tapered thighs, foiled only by the filmy night robe. He nearly burst the silk with the rock hard head of his cock.
"But but wait, dear Guiseppe!" she had pleaded but he couldn't wait nor had he seen any reason for waiting. This lovely maiden with the magnificent body and the cascading blonde hair was his. He had hurled her to the bed and fallen upon her, his fingers squeezing her tits, as large and firm as orchard melon halves, the tips so pink and sweet he had tried to bite them from her flesh. He had torn her Vienna gown and laughed at her distress, and after some exciting effort had managed to part her soft white thighs and wedge his big lean hips up between them, his cock missing the silky nest. His weight had held her tensing buttocks to the bed and he had nearly gone crazy with the scent of her opened cunt and the kiss of her downy pubic hair. The second effort to get his prick into her had been more successful. She had been stunned and tearful and as inept as he. Mouthing pleas, she had been unable to recover herself and he had ground upward, his hand guiding his penis until it found the soft moist intimacy. He had been further excited by the feel of her fat-lipped cunt, its heat, its seeming lack of resistance and when the blood-filled head of his organ had dimpled into her untrammeled vulva, he had been unable to contain himself. With one grunt and a tremendous contraction of his belly muscles, he had rammed his cock full into the defenseless sleeve. Helena had screamed and her body had jerked in agony, but Guiseppe, feeling the tight grip of her virgin flesh, had gone half crazy. His cock had seemed as huge as a tree trunk and as hot as the fires of hell and he had hunched until his balls lay hard against the under curves of her quivering ass. He had heard her moan and cry small meaningless words and he had been aware of how her legs had kicked, trying desperately to dislodge the huge club on which she was impaled, but he had clutched her close and sunk his teeth into the hot cushion of her tit. Her writhing only served to further seat his prick and when he felt her pubic mound rise against his pelvic, he had held her, savoring the convulsing of her agonized cunt as he braced his knees and elbows for the assault. He had begun his fucking instantly, feeling only the impossible ecstasy of her sex sleeve, wrapped around his organ. She had adjusted her body slightly, opening her legs as if to expand her capacity, holding to his shoulders so she could twist and evade the long deep thrusting. Blind to everything but exquisite sensation, he had let his hands drift down and under her ass, cupping the cheeks, pressing and spreading and molding them in tempo to his ramming. His cum was swift, a grunting, throbbing gush of lust that filled her cunt with the voluminous jism for which the Dromedas were famous throughout the Vicenza country. If she had felt it in her numbing cunt, she had not given him a sign, and he had begun a second furious fuck without even a fresh breath. If anything, it was more excruciatingly wonderful than the first because his jism made her vagina a sleek thing, burning hot and soothed enough to react in a natural way to his plunging prick. With his first lust spent, he had become conscious of her every sweet delight, the rubbery pucker of her ass-hole, the moistness between her nates. Her tits seemed to swell and the nipples were like pink bone berries to his nibbling lips and lashing tongue. Presently he had become aware of her moaning and her heaving chest. He fucked with long deep strokes and her arms gradually came up and closed around his neck.
How many times he fucked her that first night, he could not remember. The bed was largely soiled, her belly and thighs were sticky with his jism and the flecks of blood from her ruptured maidenhead. Some "Oh," sounds were turned to "Ah," sounds and they had both fallen asleep, his prick in her cunt, sometime toward dawn. He had been satisfied but she had never remarked her own degree of pleasure. A shy wife, a most satisfactory fuck and a woman who knew enough to keep her mouth shut until she had something to say. Guiseppe was very pleased with himself, indeed.
* * *
It had taken two generations of Dromedas to construct the huge castle. It was built in a squared circle, and its outer walls came down to the moat as if the ugly structure had been born of the not fresh water. It had stood for three hundred years, battered by the endless wars that had plagued the north of Italy, by brigands and once by fire, but it had stood and though its towers and abutments showed some weariness and discoloration, it remained the seat of power for an estate nearly fifty kilometers in each direction.
That it had fallen into some disrepair and considerable disrepute in the past five years was not due to the Dromeda's failure to appreciate the family traditions but because following the Naples Revolution in 1820, Italy had been torn to economic and political shreds, by the French, the Austrians and the turbulent, nearly tribal structures of the Italians themselves. Vatican troops roamed the land, hardly more civilized than the hill bandits, and blessed in then-cruelties by the Papal decrees. Behind these ruffians, the armoured companies of Ferdinand IV ravaged and raped in the name of an Italian royalty that mixed confusion with corrupt idealism. In the north, France dominated the west, Piedmont, Lombardy and Tuscany, and at the time of Guiseppe's marriage, Austria controlled the east, Venitia and Emilia. Short of armed troops, taxes were the conquerors' weapons, and il Castello di Dromeda had suffered heavily.
None of which mattered very much to Helena because the Von Fabrings had come of warring stock and her own baronial home just a few kilometers out of Vienna squatted cold and be-towered and as forbidding as the castle into which her new husband was now taking her. She saw the gathering peasantry, hat in hand, knees bent under a proper if not classic curtsey, the huge courtyard with the overhanging galleries and small pleasantly cultivated terraces and the broad portcullis that led into the castle interior. The massive iron grill was now raised and as Guiseppe helped her to the flagstones, she saw what she guessed to be the other members of the Dromeda family.
She gasped; the handsome young man in the swagger breeches and open-throated shirt was so like Guiseppe she could not believe it. He had every feature, strong jaw, square shoulders and the deep-set eyes. But even as he approached, she sensed a difference. His crisp black hair was flying, his stride had a flowing lilt and the smile on his lips was sardonic, if not derisive. He wore a pistol thrust in the broad black belt and carried a slim, lighted cigar in his left hand. It was, she knew, Giacomo, her husband's twin and her new brother-in-law. Under his gaze, she instantly felt naked. In distress, she looked at the magnificently impressive woman just behind Giacomo. That would be Signora Maria Galetia Dromeda, widowed wife of her husband's uncle, Madero Dromeda.
"Ah, my dear," Guiseppe was saying. "This is our zia Maria, for many years our second mother, our divine advisor and one of God's more lofty creations. Zia Maria, my bride, Helena."
The woman smiled and her beauty was maturely dazzling to Helena. She wore dark scarlet velvet, with finely crafted lace at cuff and hem. The bodice was cut in the latest Venetian style, broad, low and fitted over large breasts with positive intent to display her wondrous figure.
"I'm so pleased, zia Maria. Guiseppe had told me so much about you, and I'm sure I shall always love you as much as he."
The woman closed her arms around Helena and hugged her close, kissing her each cheek with a loud smack of her full lipped mouth. For a moment, Helena was oddly frightened; she was very small and slim in Maria's grasp and the warmth of the dark woman's body seemed to come as the breath of Hell. Then she was released and she turned to meet the Devil. Dressed alike, she might not have been able to tell Guiseppe from Giacomo, but now he seemed like a creature from some distant star. The curly black hair bunched high out of his open shirt and because cocks were five days old in her consciousness, she saw how his hung heavy in his close-fitting trouser leg and that if anything, it loomed longer and thicker than her husband's frightening instrument. Helena shivered. Giacomo grinned, more pleasantly now.
"Welcome, sister," he said. "I'm Giacomo. For once, I see my idiot brother did the right thing! I hope he had the decency to tell you that we only tolerate him here because he manages well. I am the man of the family, sister, and I welcome you to your new abode."
He closed with her, his cigar arcing out into the courtyard from a flip of his fingers. He wrapped both arms around her waist and slammed her to his big body; the upper poke was the breech of his pistol, the lower pressure was the log of his prick which he managed to place against her upper thigh. He did not immediately kiss her cheek. He let her form a natural, modest arch in her back while he stared at her fresh beauty and rather intimately into the bodice of her traveling gown. Then she felt him inhale, a huge, deeply masculine swelling of his chest and instead of kissing her cheek as had Maria, he lifted her toes free of the ground and kissed her full on the mouth. Half shocked, her lips had been agape and in the few seconds while he held her mouth, she felt his tongue toy with the edge of her finely evened teeth. Her eyes met his, she smelled his cigar breath and she felt the subtle, strumming fingers on her back. When he released her, she nearly tumbled, so heady had her senses turned.
"I I am happy to have you for a b-brother," she gasped. "Oh, Guiseppe, your family is delightful!" she exclaimed, turning back to her slightly glowering husband.
"Yes. Well, there is one more, my dear," he said. Then to his aunt, "Taurina, our cousin. Is she indisposed again?"
A flash of fire crossed Maria's face. "Yes. It is the abominable fog of the past few days. But she will attend dinner, I am sure."
"My cousin is not overly strong," Guiseppe explained to Helena.
"Our cousin is overly fond of the fog she cultivates it by romancing constantly with the wine cellar. Toli! See to the luggage!"
Helena turned to see the man to whom Giacomo had spoken, and in all of her life she had not been so instantly and completely terrified. Toli was a giant of a man, nearly as thick as he was wide and he had no neck. His grotesquely ugly head sat squarely on his shoulders, which sloped out and down to arms far too long, even for his hugeness. He was dark and swarthy, and his eyes were tiny beads of black, poked back into his misshapen skull under incredibly bushy eyebrows. His nose was a great arching shape with flared nostrils from which much black hair grew. His mouth was cavernous, showing yellowed, uneven teeth, and his thin, overly red lips seemed formed in a perpetual leer. He touched his peasant's cap and went to the carriage where the footmen had already alighted the many bags and cases she had brought from Venice. Helena squirmed, her body suddenly clammy with unreasonable perspirations. Her hand went to Guiseppe's arm and they all passed through the portcullis into a massive assembly hall.
When the portcullis grate dropped with a significant clanging, Helena was half sick with unnamable fright.
There was wine and Italian pastries and while Guiseppe gave her a verbal tour of the castle, Helena sat and shivered under the eyes of her brother-in-law and Maria. Giacomo did not sip his wine. He gulped it, snapping his fingers for the refilling of his silver goblet by the liveried servant.
" and each generation made changes in the castle to suit their fancies. There are four ballrooms and at least ten separate appartamentos, each suitable for secluded living. And I should warn you, dear Helena, that it is very easy to become lost in il castello as each succeeding architect had ideas of his own about wandering corridors and narrow stairways to inter-levels."
"Perhaps I may have a handmaid who is familiar with the arrangements?" Helena ventured.
Giacomo smiled. "We had thought about that, Zia Maria and I," he said. "We have chosen a likely girl, one Calina Toli, sister to my private man. Unlike Toli, she is delicate and most presentable, and I assure you, she knows every corridor and cranny, and what is behind every door of the castle, sister."
Maria called for more wine and leaned forward. "There is one area of the castle I do not recommend your visiting, dear Helena," she said with a serious face. "You see, this castle was constructed during the Papal period of Leo X, and for some years, the Dromedas, being devout and worshipful Catholics, acted as administrator and ah, enforcers for His Worship's decrees in barricading Italy from the encroachments of Martin Luther, the Protestant defiler. There is rather an extensive set of chambers under the proper cellar which were used for imprisoning heretics and disbelievers in the one true God and his divine Church. Many of the instruments and devices for extracting confessions of bold guilt are still in these chambers. It would not be a pleasant sight to one of your delicate upbringing, I am sure."
"In short, stay out of the torture chambers, sister," Giacomo laughed. "Unless beneath your sweet exterior lies some segment of the Austrian heritage for blood and crushed bones!"
"Giacomo jokes," Guiseppe said. "I doubt that anyone except a rat or two has even been in the lower cellar for a hundred years."
Giacomo laughed. "What a memory! We often played ghost and ghoulies there when we were children, sister. If you've had time to notice during your brief five days of marriage, your husband has a scar under his left shoulder blade because I once tied him to a particularly interesting rack and turned the wheel too far! On the other hand, I would doubt that a husband's back was very interesting to a bride of five nights," he added with a leer.
All laughed, except Helena. She could find no pleasure in the thought of a torture chamber under the stone floors, and in five nights, she had found even less enchantment in being a bride. She sipped her wine and tried not to remember, a nearly impossible condition for a girl of her delicate nature and totally wounded flesh.
* * *
The morning after the first night she had taken her hand mirror to her privy and with awe, inspected her cunt. It was not the first time she had ever peeked at the neat slot with its puffy, hair-fringed lips, nor had she never fingered the sensitive aperture with some mildly intriguing results. But on this morning, her inspection was slightly more than curiosity.
The tiny hole through which she had pissed for seventeen years was now a ragged, boldly lobed opening, with lacerated edges and a consummate soreness that made it nearly impossible to feel without gasps of pain. More frightening, the size and sensibility of several areas was disturbing. Her clitoris, always a barely discernable place of firmness in the flesh of her upper vulva was now protuberant and thick, and even a tickle of it sent her into spasms of delight. Her smell was different, even after washing. The heady acrid odor was almost like perfume to Helena's nose and she was sure it was due to the endless sticky cream-like fluid Guiseppe had spurted and spewed into her with such obvious glee. It was jism, a word softly spoken in her French finishing school, and it made children if deposited properly in a woman's vagina. She had no doubt that Guiseppe had deposited everywhere and in sufficient quantities to make her pregnant. The jism had filled her cunt, despite her certainty that his huge organ had enlarged it far beyond normal need, and it had flooded out, to coat her thighs and underbody and form a number of big wet places on the bed. She had wept; her neat quim was now an open well in her body, and as sore as it was, she could feel the emptiness. What else she could feel Helena was not sure.
She had never seen a man's cock before and her mother had not been at all explicit about her prenuptial instructions. Helena had done precisely as her haughty mother had inferred she should. Even when Guiseppe had torn her most elegant gown and rammed his cock into her unprepared cunt as if he were a cannoneer preparing a siege gun for a second shot, she had gritted her teeth and secured her urine and cried only a little at the rupture of her flesh and the invasion of her belly.
The agony had been excruciating, the delight, nothing at all. Cold and afraid, she had felt his organ bludgeon into her paining flesh, displacing her inner parts, swelling her cunt to near bursting, then wearing it nearly skinless in his urge to have his way. Once or twice, she had felt some sharp good, as if there were places in her quim that could exult were he to be a bit less violent and a lot more considerate. She hadn't expected him to bite her breasts and claw her flesh but she had understood his great love and permitted him to mar her alabaster skin and lick her tinted nipples.
Gradually, she had been forced to learn what pleased Guiseppe. He was monstrously fond of rubbing his soiled and partially relaxed prick to her belly and tits. He had crawled over her as if she were warm velvet, slapping his cock against her face and neck and rooting it to hardness under her arms. He had opened her legs and stared with fascination at her under parts, lifting her legs to look between the cheeks of her bottom, fingering her back place with slightly suggestive pressures. Once, toward morning, he had made her kneel up to his groin so he could fuck her from the rear. That had not been too bad; not facing him and alone with her sensations, she had found out how to kink her belly and let it palpitate so her distending clitoris received a few exciting strokes. Also, she had been able to duck her head and look back between her tits to see his bull shit swinging and his muscular thighs pumping, and she had liked that.
But she had thought it all grossly unfair, and five nights of it had only convinced her that a woman was what her mother had said she would be a receptacle for a man's thoughtless lust. Not once had Helena understood her husband's obvious ecstasies nor his unbridled excitements. By the fourth or fifth night, she had learned to like only small segments of love. There was some pleasure in the first few moments when he held his prick and worked it into her vulva. The ensuing ram was deadly with pain. There were some small instants of little pleasure when he settled to the furious rhythm of undulations. She had liked the half minute when his cock had erupted to spew his jism into her aching quim. The minutes he spent between fucks were also nice; his hands over her tits and torso, his kisses hot on her neck and his heavy, half debilitated cock lying in tardy puddling over her belly. She had not dared touch it and he hadn't offered it to her hand. She had been quiet and circumspect and she had subdued her curiosity.
She was wife and he was husband, and in her culture, this was a situation absolute. As was the one she now lived through, sipping strong wine while her husband's brother watched her through lidded eyes and his handsome aunt made light and unimportant conversation. And she could tell by the expression on her husband's face that the moment he was alone with her in their permanent chambers, he would raise her dress and down her pantaloons and fuck her madly. The carriage ride from Venice had been long, and his desires necessarily restricted. Her barely healed cunt throbbed with worry and she asked for more wine as a preventative for pain.
CHAPTER TWO
Guiseppe's bedchamber was huge and the broad Napoleon four-poster seemed nearly lost in the vaulted chamber. Plush rugs and highly polished furniture gave the room a proper look of elegance, and everywhere were fine artifacts on tables and pedestals. While his sister put away the signora's elaborate wardrobe, Toli dragged a chair to the wall opposite the huge bed and climbed on the seat, disregarding his sloppy over-run shoes on the tapestry cushion. From the wall, some three meters up, he slipped a small stone which had unobtrusively chinked a rather wide space between two larger stones. Then he climbed down and replaced the chair. After that, he walked to his pretty sister and roughly felt of her ample ass under the flowing skirt of her gray maid's uniform.
She twisted. "Let me be," she scolded. "You see what a lot of things I have to do! She seems very stylish. A fine Vienna lady." Calina Toli turned and looked at the wide space her hulking brother had just created in the wall. "The shame of that Giacomo!"
Toli only grunted because he had no tongue. It had been torn from his throat at the age of five, by Vatican soldatos because he had refused to reveal the hiding place of his peasant father and mother and his three younger sisters. He had not spoken a word in thirty years, nor could he read and write. All other senses were extremely acute, and Toli had dedicated them to Giacomo Galetia Dromeda without reservations. Again he felt of his sister's ass and she didn't bother to reject him. Feeling of a peasant's ass was a preoccupation for her brother and one not possible to resent because of his stature in the eyes of the arbitrary Giacomo.
"You have work to do, shit face?" she demanded over her shoulder.
Toli grunted and with the small chink stone in his fist, went about his tasks. He knew them well. He took a rear stairway spiraling down to the kitchen areas. There, he tore a leg from a cold chicken and crunched it in his animal mouth as he went down another spiral stairs to the wine cellar. From a rack he took a bottle already half empty and washed the chicken down with four continuing gulps. He burped and wiped his bristled chin with the back of his massive hand. After that, he began to turn champagne bottles, twisting each with a practiced twist of his hair-backed fingers.
He had seen the light in Giacomo's eyes and it was a flash Toli had seen many times. It spelled many things, his instinctive hate for his twin brother, his urge to hurt, and his lust for a new woman. She was new, she belonged to Guiseppe and she was small boned and soft, prime subject for the delights Giacomo could work with a reluctant woman. Toli licked his lips in private speculation. It was not impossible that in the course of time, he too could get his cock into the Austrian bitch. He was Giacomo's friend, and friendship was a quality that the handsome half-lord of the Dromeda castle never shirked. The possibility excited Toli. He felt of his prick, a huge log of flesh hanging in his sloppy trousers. It was lazy but it was sensitive and he rubbed it from base to the massive head and that was good. He finished the bottle of wine in a long, gurgling gulp. It would be nice, he thought, to fuck a cunt not suspecting his power or size, and particularly one not hung between the legs of a grape snapper.
* * *
Maria Galetia Dromeda watched her nephew rape the pretty blonde girl with his eyes and it made her blood race with anticipation. At forty, she had learned to see much and enjoy all. She loved Giacomo with a passion that would have gotten her excommunicated and consigned to Hell without even a hesitation in Purgatory, if anybody had known of her love, which she made extensive effort to not reveal.
She weighed the delicate features and the slim fluttering hands of her new niece. An Austrian aristocrat, a cold, inexpert female of little talent and no experience. Maria closed her eyes a moment and thought about Guiseppe, sending his big clumsy cock into Helena. Maria doubted that the girl had screamed Austrians were ice and their emotions were always under control. It took a man like Giacomo to awaken these fish-assed ones, Maria knew. And from the slouch of him, he was perfectly relaxed and therefore sure of what he intended to do. Maria had only to pretend the loving aunt, and sympathize, perhaps, and before her eyes would be enacted an eroticism beyond imagination.
"My dear," she said. "I know you must be wearied from the long carriage journey. Guiseppe, why do you not repair your bride to your appartamento and permit her a time of rest and security? I am sure that Calina has by now arranged her effects and begun a fire for warmth. Would you like that, dear Helena?"
"Oh yes! I am tired!"
Giacomo came to his feet. "Excellent idea, zia mio! And we will have a grand banquet tonight, to welcome our new family member, and to congratulate my brother. We have roast shoat preparing, and I will have Toli bring Dromeda 1781, our most celebrated champagne! Does this appeal to you, my sister?"
Maria smiled at the sudden flush on Helena's face. An excellent reaction, one that established the lovely blonde child as a proper field for Giacomo's cultivation. Maria's cunt oozed and she felt the moisture with happy anticipation. Her huge well-supported tits ached with promise and she farted quietly but with personal glee at the innocent disturbance of her anus. At her age, contemplation was almost as exquisite as fulfillment. Neither young nor old, Maria had learned to take excitement where she found it and to bleed each moment of erotica as it occurred.
When Guiseppe had escorted Helena out of the big parlor, Maria sat exchanging silences with Giacomo. Over the years, they had come to share many understandings, particularly in matters of the flesh. She had been a lush and flourishing beauty of eighteen when Madero Dromeda had brought her to the castle, and she had immediately become enamoured with the twin boys, then two years old and so alike even their mother could not tell them apart. A year or so later, her own daughter had been born but Maria had never been able to afford her girl child, the affection she held for the twins. She had fingered Taurina's little cunt and wished fervently it would be exchanged for the already lusty pricks of her stalwart nephews. Then in rapid order, Maria had been elevated to a position of importance in the Dromeda dynasty. Her husband, Madero, had been killed in a small skirmish with brigands and a few months later, her brother and sister-in-law had contracted the plague, leaving Maria with the twins to raise as well as her own child.
She had fallen in love with Giacomo when he was nine, she then had reached the unripe age of twenty-four and was very tired of being a widow. The division in her affection for the twins had occurred one afternoon when she had, due to a headache, altered her usual routine by ascending to her apartment to rest. Passing her daughter's room, she had been attracted by giggles and whisperings that held certain connotations to Maria. On peeking, she had instantly fallen in love with Giacomo, who had bent her six-year-old daughter's thin body over a bench and was humping his ten centimeter penis in the giggling child's no longer virginal cunt.
Stunned by instant eroticism, Maria had held her tongue and for several moments, watched Giacomo's panting efforts to achieve orgasm in the spindly bottom. He had been awkward and not too well coordinated but to Maria, the beauty of his slim hips and sturdy legs had seemed the most entrancing sight she had ever seen.
She had envied Taurina mightily, although Maria had never held much patience for so short a cock. On the other hand, the enthusiasm of Giacomo seemed to make up for his juvenile dimensions. Taurina had squealed and humped and her thin legs had kicked out each time the boy had lurched into her. And presently, Giacomo had settled to the good short strokes, his hard little groin battering close and fast to Taurina's bottom. Silently, Maria had directed the exotic pair; she had seen how her daughter's face had stilled and her eyes had closed in concentration. She had watched Giacomo's lowering head and curling back as his building
:um had soared to bursting. Maria had counted the small jerks, one through seven until Giacomo had rested, his cock fully buried in Taurina's disappointed cunt.
"You stopped too soon," Taurina had protested in her thin voice.
Giacomo had reared, dragging his limping cock from the small hot slot, the last small drops of jism dripping onto Taurina's bottom.
"All right," he had panted. "I'll be able to do it again in a minute or so and I'll take longer next time."
The moment had arrived for Maria to enter and scream the proper vociferations of indignance and dire threat but she had already succumbed to her own sensuality and could not move in protest. And she was so anxious to see her handsome nephew 'take longer next time' she even forgot that the thin little girl was her own daughter.
Rubbing her ample crotch through her clothing, Maria had stood in mounting frenzy while Giacomo had taken Taurina to the floor and mounted the sharp valley between her bony legs, his prick shooting into the little hairless slot with practiced ease. Within seconds, Taurina's heels were kicking down and her arms were flailing. Her orgasm had surprised Maria because she had been unable to cum before the age of ten at least on the inexpert cocks of her childhood friends in Milan. There seemed nothing inexpert about Giacomo's lusty rooting, she had seen.
That day, she had separated Giacomo from Guiseppe, and in the following years she had shared a silent, unholy alliance with his massive sexuality. Unknown to him, she knew many of his secrets and she adored them all, but what excited her most of all were these moments when they traded physical understanding, of intent if not spelled completely out. Now she smiled at him and he winked back; Maria's tits seemed so heavy she could hardly draw a free breath. She stood up and moved to his side. "She is very pretty and she seems docile, does she not?"
"Si, zia mio. She may well be a pleasant diversion from the mundane matters of Dromeda. She may even be the key to learning for my brother, though I question his ability to learn anything worthwhile!"
"Whatever you decide, dear Giacomo," Maria breathed. Then her be-ringed fingers toyed briefly in the crispness of his wavy hair and as she turned to leave, he pinched her buttock in a way that made her wince. For the thousandth time, she cursed the fate that had made her fifteen years his elder, and perforce, endowed him with only a young man's interest in her maturing charms.
* * *
The huge silver goblet, filled to the brim would hold an entire bottle of wine and since morning, Taurina had exhausted its capabilities twice.
She lay now, relaxed and comfortable in her chaise lounge, so mentally disturbed that her anger was like a fiery ball in her chest. Thin chest, titless, angular and possessed of several dark moles, nearly as prominent as her nipples. She had not left her apartment since the messenger had come from Venice to advise the castle that Guiseppe had taken a wife. And only an hour before, Taurina had poised behind the gallery drape and watched with aching eyes the introduction of the slight blonde beauty. For a moment, Taurina had thought of leaping from the balcony to land in crumpled death at the feet of the man she loved, who had so destroyed her life by wedding the Austrian bitch. Taurina sniffled. It would have been useless because Guiseppe had not, in twenty years, ever thought of her as anything more vital than his skinny, unpretty cousin. Or perhaps, his brother's slut.
She was sure he knew because in the early years, Giacomo and Guiseppe had been separable but indivisible. Guiseppe had played at stick ball with the peasant boys while Giacomo had fucked her in any small niche into which they could fit their grunting, humping bodies. That they hadn't compared adventures at some later hour seemed improbable to Taurina. Guiseppe had never scorned nor slighted her, nor had he ever hinted that he knew. In parallel, he had never given her one word of affection not based upon their cousinly relationship. So Taurina had fallen in love with Guiseppe and given her ass to Giacomo.
Now she opened the feathered front of her housegown and stared down at her nakedness. Ugly. Her belly was so thin it lay like a valley between her sharply defined hip bones. The thick black hair grew from her navel down and out to cover her groin with a layer of disgusting darkness. It grew especially thick in the palm wide space between her fleshless legs and in the bush, the pouted lips of her cunt stood out, showing the deep scarlet of her lobed vulva as a nearly leathery mouth. She was sure that Giacomo's cock had created the hideous shape of her sex. His prick had grown faster than her quim, and the violence of his lust had shaped her to his burgeoning organ. Three years in Naples at a most exclusive school for young ladies had convinced Taurina that she was not only too thin, too ugly and too unsparkling, but that she had a cunt like a capra, and thusly could only be attractive to a he-goat. Or to a man like Guiseppe, whose maleness was virtually untried and probably uninformed.
She sipped the wine, fingering her cunt while she dreamed drunkenly of what might have been. This excited her and she raised both legs, spreading the crooked shapes while she envisioned Guiseppe approaching her nearly cheekless ass, his cock a sweet club of pulsing flesh aimed at her open crotch. She touched her anus, always an extra delight to Giacomo if they had to fuck in a standing position for lack of space, and logically then, a possible excitement to dear Guiseppe.
Her narrow hips began to roll and quaver, then she folded her legs down to her chest and entered her cunt with two long, thin fingers. Her limber body twisted and fluttered and with eyes tightly closed, Taurina let the wine and her broken heart turn her digits to Guiseppe. As her deep agitation caused her cunt to heat and ooze, she smeared her glandular fluids down over her rectum and by twisting her wrist, entered her anus with a thumb. Guiseppe's thumb. She rocked her hand, fucking deep into her convulsing cunt, then into her ass-hole. When her wrist tired, she reversed the penetrations, putting her two sticky fingers in her rectum while her thumb pressed and flipped the knot of her acorn-shaped clitoris. Taurina burped and let the fumes of her own breath settle like a blanket over her angular face.
Fuck me, Guiseppe, and I will love you as the blonde Austrian bitch can never do, she thought, and then she lost all consciousness as the wine and her cum sucked her down into the blackness where she hated Guiseppe thoroughly.
Her hand fell from her crotch and her bony legs slowly unfolded and dropped to the chaise. She lay as if a corpse, defeated.
* * *
She had hardly stepped out of her gown and dropped her two petticoats when he was on her. Helena gasped as his hands came around under her arms and shoveled her tits from the soft warm shelf of her French corset. At the same time, Guiseppe squatted and his cock pushed high between her thighs and became a hot pressure up against the silk of her pantaloons. Helena gasped and tried to gentle him by putting a hand back over her shoulder to his face. It was tense and his quick breath burned her neck and cheek.
"My God," he breathed. "I have been suffering the tortures of the damned, wanting you so this entire day!"
Dutifully, Helena pressed back to her husband. "Yes, dear Guiseppe. I have felt some some distress myself! But, be kind, my husband, and let us make our first love in our home a beautiful one. I can not help but grow fond of Dromeda but I beg you to permit me sweetness as a beginning! Ah, your strength thrills me so, Guiseppe!"
"Should I remove your corset, my love?"
She twisted in his embrace. "No, dear heart. It is such a task to relace! Pray, only remove my undergarment."
As he settled to his knees, his lips smeared wet fire on her naked tit, then his hands pressed to her thighs and he knelt, his rampant penis standing out from between his strong legs in ready waiting. Warmed by the wine and tingling with an anticipation she did not understand, Helena stood with her laced black shoes well apart and her hips pushed forward, nearly to his face. He put trembling hands up under the corset lace and began to peel her pantaloons down with adoring lethargy. Helena could not fight the urge to flex her belly muscles and with a gasp of pleasure, Guiseppe pressed his mouth to the very center of the silken mound of her pubis. The kiss was like a splash of molten metal and Helena used both hands to hold his handsome head in contact. He kissed deeper, his tongue like a darting snake while his hands peeled her pantaloons on down around her slender ankles.
"Oh, Guiseppe!" Helena moaned. "Such dear kisses! Oh, my husband, kiss me and Mss me there! Oh!"
His hands had risen and curled about the perfect rounds of her ass, and as he kissed, open mouthed and wetly firm, his palms rolled and lifted her nates, stretching the skin deep between them in a manner that shocked Helena. Her knees moved out, opening her thighs for the whole of his face and she swayed, suddenly and for the first time, enamoured of being loved. His tongue, licking up from her vulva ran sleekly over her clitoris, sending chills first then exquisite heat up her body in endless waves.
Her tits, riding high like glowing moons, swelled and tingled, the nipples turning darker with pulsing blood. By leaning slightly to one side, she could look down at his prick, abruptly a desirable column of white and purplish flesh instead of a fearful battering ram. It grew like a stout tree from the forest of black curly hair, and below it, the monstrous sack containing its two large roundnesses became suddenly exciting to Helena.
"The bed, dear heart," she pleaded. "I would love you as you love me!"
"Yes, yes!" When he came to his feet, she saw the wet around his mouth, her wet, smelling of exotic source, forming a clear drop on the tip of his clef ted chin.
With a cry of desire, she raised her lips and he kissed her furiously as he half carried her to the big bed. When he lowered her to the bed, his prick brushed her forehead, and Helena froze, stricken with a desire so alien to her sense of propriety she could not help a shudder. Then with a cry of surrender, she opened her mouth and captured the bobbing helmet shape between her lips. The shock was instantaneous; the huge hot form filled her mouth and set her saliva to flowing as the slightly acrid taste covered her tongue. The size of the throbbing club, her proximity to the heavily-haired flat of his groin and the liveness of the knob in her mouth made her head whirl with excitement. Her hands came up and she closed one around the thick root of his cock, the other going with gentle curiosity to his balls.
She began to suck lightly, and her fingers frigged him in best duplication of the way he did it himself before he entered her. She felt the vibrating cords of his big cock and the sensuous sliding of his skin over the inner shapes and then she wanted something else. Her head moved forward until the helmet shape touched the back of her throat. She drew back, only holding the pulsating head in her lips before she plunged over the tasty column again. Above her head, she heard the soft panting, the short grunts of pleasure from Guiseppe. He had taught her fear and pain, she vowed to teach him love and passion, and Helena's whole soul advanced to the delectable masculinity in her mouth.
Presently, she began to feel herself, as if the cock in her mouth were pervading every inch of her trembling body. Her cunt, accustomed only to agony and frustration, began to pulse and she was astounded at the ring of fire around its pouted mouth. Her legs twitched and she had a gigantic urge to hunch forward in stretching search. The emptiness of her womb was almost painful, but it was a sweet pain, and one she dulled by increasing the pressure of her lips around his penis. Her tongue tip found the distending eye, reveled in the musky flavor oozing there, and then she felt his cock assuming a new and mighty tension.
"Helena! I am No, no, my love! Do not-"
Too late, she learned what he was warning her of. The first speeding knot of jism left his deepest font, she felt it pass the pressure of her fingers under his prick, then the jolt of fire struck her throat like a flung pebble. The spew splayed out, coating her mouth with slime, then one after an endless other, the spurts rolled and sloshed, pumped by the involuntary undulations Guiseppe provided. She swallowed to save choking and the stream of white hot cum burned all the way to her heaving belly.
Momentarily sickened, Helena opened her mouth but the instant fear of losing one drop of the delicious nectar made her clamp her lips and suck furiously. And in rhythm to her greed, a monstrous upheaval in her belly occurred. Her lips stiffened, her throat constricted, and Helena closed her eyes in exquisite shock as her cunt throbbed and quaked with her very first orgasm. It seemed endless, each pulse more wonderful than the former, and her legs jerked apart to relieve the frightful ecstasy.
Then like a bolt from an angry god, Guiseppe's big hand crashed against her head, knocking her sideways and back, the string of cum falling from her lips as his prick was miserably not there. Stunned, Helena fell to the bed, sobbing half in thwarted orgasm and half in pain.
"You foul bitch!" Guiseppe's voice smashed down. "like a whore, a thirty lira whore."
"Guiseppe-"
"My sweet virginal bride! Sucks my prick like a Parisian courtesan and swallows my jism as if it were the finest wine! You dirty, lying little slut!"
"I-I couldn't help it, Guiseppe, my love! I wanted so to make you happy to make you l-love me! Oh, Guiseppe!"
She started to turn but he fell on her, his body like a tumbling mountain. She felt his cock, not the least debilitated by her suck, jab at her bended rump with vicious force. He held her, one hand gripping her right tit in ruthless fingers, turning, pulling, as if to strip the bulbous shape from her heaving chest. The other hand went down and a huge finger lunged into her anus.
Helena shrieked and tried to evade his brutal intrusion. She could barely move, and when his finger screwed and plunged, she wailed in pain and terror until it was replaced by his ramming cock. Then she fainted because the agony was impossible to stand.
An agony, as huge if slightly different, brought her senses back. She lay face down, legs widespread, so widely separated it felt as if her rectum was also split. She heard the belt whistle, then the leather snapped cuttingly across her buttocks. She screeched, the whistle and crack were repeated. She tried to twist and discovered her wrists and ankles were tied to each corner of the Napoleon fourposter. Behind her, the nasal rasp of Guiseppe's breath preceded another cutting blow.
"There, you filthy Austrian whore!" he rasped. "I had thought you sweet and pure and worthy of the Dromeda name. You are not worthy of a straw pile in the Dromeda stables! A sucker of spewing pricks! Well, I have opened you another hole, woman, one I'm sure, that will advance your filthy ends and put you well into the class of honest Vienna whores!"
She heard him slam out of the room, and the crash of the door was like a gigantic trap, closing over her defenseless body with irrevocable finality. She wept, from the pain of her lacerated rump and from the agony in her bowel. And because despite it all, she had come to love Guiseppe and she could not blame him for his rage. She had not acted like an adoring bride, she had succumbed to some irresistible urge to have him all. Now, she had none of him whatever.
Sobbing, writhing, suffering more than she had imagined possible, Helena lay until Calina Toli came to bathe and dress her new mistress for dinner. Despite the differences in their social stations, they became good friends within an hour, and Helena was too grateful for the pretty maid's help to question how she came to know so much about soothing a ruptured rectum and salving a lacerated bottom.
CHAPTER THREE
Hardly half through his first glass of black wine, Guiseppe Galetia Dromeda decided that he had not only been a fool but a hypocrite. He stood in his study, staring at himself in a gilt-edge mirror, amazed that God had not struck him down for a degree of stupidity only the Devil could have inspired.
He knew beyond a doubt that Helena was not a whore, not a wanton and not a courtesan. She was the young, sweetly demure daughter of an Austrian gentleman and Guiseppe had loved her from the very first moment he had seen her. He had broken her maidenhead and led her through the first delights of marriage, completely aware of her inexperience and shyness and of the monumental change in her life he represented.
The first days had been slow; the first time she had shown warmth and eagerness and volunteered a sign of awakening love he had gone out of his mind. Not, he now admitted, because of what she had wanted to do for him but because he had permitted her to do it. Hadn't he first kissed her small, delectable cunt? He was belatedly able to remember the surge of vanity he had felt when she closed her mouth over his prick. That had been the moment to take command of her obviously rising emotions to guide her in any direction his ideas of love and passion indicated.
Vainly, Guiseppe sought for some personal explanation of his failure to forestall her avidity for his cock. It was a caress he could only associate with the prostitutes of Venice and Rome; although he had never made carnal love to a woman of his own social class before, Guiseppe doubted that it was an act accepted among the gentry and their ladies. But, he thought, it might not have been deliberate in the beginning moments. He had kissed her cunt, perhaps she had only been willing to return the intimacy as a sign of her love for him.
He shuddered. He had stood like a country dolt and let her build him to a cum, then smashed her across the head the instant his jism had spewed into her avid lips. He squirmed. He had enjoyed the suck immensely until his orgasm had faded and he'd become aware of Helena's frantic swallowing. Of course it had been frantic because like all the Dromedas, his balls were huge and prolific and he had no doubt surprised her with the volume of his sperm.
Had he struck her for her lewdness or had the lewdness been his, he asked himself? There was no instant answer but Guiseppe's anger was now for his own hypocritical attitude. His fury at her had been unreasonable, and as he remembered the invective he had hurled at her, and the brutal way he had tried to establish her guilt by ramming his prick into her ass-hole, he wept for his own idiocy.
Now it did not seem an act of punishment at all, rather a thing he had done in the grip of a monstrous passion. The fact that he had remained in her rectum, lunging, ripping and twisting after he'd known of her faint seemed to lay the inspiration for his cruelty precisely where it belonged in his own conscious desire for animal satiation.
She might never forgive him, but he would have to try for forgiveness with all his being. He was sure he loved her, and that for a few minutes while his prick lolled in her soft eager mouth, she had at least begun to return his love.
He gulped his wine and poured another; enveloped in a surge of emotional promises, he sat and drank until his maudlin thoughts agonized him as he had never believed possible.
Later, dressed in one of Giacomo's fine velvet suits because Guiseppe had not found the courage to return to his own wardrobe and face his wife, he stood at the bottom of the massive central staircase and watched Helena descend to the main level and his heart was so full of love he could hardly restrain himself.
He stepped forward, smiling sadly, extending his arm for her hand. "My dear, my dear," he husked, looking at her perfectly groomed smallness. "I have never seen you so beautiful, nor so desirable!"
She had merely looked at him, and as he escorted her to the elaborate dining salon, he became very conscious of the slight hobble she tried to disguise. A fever came to his groin as he imagined how her raped and skewered ass-hole must look and he wailed inwardly at his imagined measure of her hate. His only hope lay in the fact that she was an aristocrat and therefore self-contained, and in the final accounting, she was his wife by the Canons of the Church and the law of the land.
* * *
Except for the measured tread of the armed guardianos along the castle battlements and the subdued voices of the servants polishing the dinner silver, il Castello di Dromeda lay quietly under the midnight moon. Only two grilled and draped windows showed a glow of light because Giacomo was a man of the night, and the wine and food and questionable merriment had not sapped any of his virility. He had changed out of his silken dinner suit to his more appropriate garb of slim-legged trousers, calf boots and broad black belt. He was naked to the waist and he stood poised, rapier in hand, making small quick dartings at the stuffed dummy hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Behind him, her back pressed to the wall, Calina Toli waited. The thin bladed rapier whistled as Giacomo pivoted, bringing the sword point to rest in the beginning hollow between her lushly rounded tits.
"Now, you will tell me exactly what has happened, my girl," he demanded, no mirth to his crooked smile.
With the quivering blade only a quick plunge from her heart, she began to talk. Giacomo listened intently, beginning with the incredible story of his sister-in-law's helpless indignity with her hands and feet tied to the bed and her belabored bottom testifying as to his brother's angry lust.
"She had been screwed there?" he asked.
"Yes, Master Giacomo! I know the symptoms well! And when I had released her and brought water and cloth and salve, she wept and confided in me that her husband, your illustrious brother, had somehow come to great rage and had sought to punish her with bestial attack and his leather belt, the marks of which were laced like basketweave across her pretty rump. She seemed to understand no reason for her husband's madness, begging your pardon, and her heart was as wounded as her bottom.
"I did the best I could to ease her pains, and tried lightly to soothe her mind by recounting some small instances in my own memory of wonderfully violent passions by men who were so enamoured of my body they sought only to destroy it." The rapier point made a red mark. "Oh no, Master Giacomo! I of course mentioned no name!"
"And later, when you aided her to bed?"
Calina giggled. "She felt better, having imbibed heavily of dinner and the Dromeda wines. I prepared her for bed in the privacy of the wardrobe room. Master Guiseppe had already stripped and entered their bed. He too was of good spirits, and because of this, I took a precaution or two with la signora. "
"like what precautions, you she-lecher?" Giacomo asked.
"I anointed her small delicate back with light salve, and she willingly bended while I massaged and soothed her back hole. It was red and swollen into a pouting and there were small tears in the pucker edges.
"I presumed, Master Giacomo, because I am not without feeling for sensation! With her lovely bottom so turned up to me, I could only feel great sorrow for the agonies she had suffered. The sweet rounds so brutally lashed seemed to quiver for sympathy. Her back hole pulsated with injury, and below this, her petite pussy, surely a magnificent receptacle for a gentle kiss, excited me to ministrations which at first surprised la signora but soon caused her to quiver with delight. I found her silken-haired cunt to be most sensitive to my lips and tongue, and while I knelt to adore her charms, I reached forward and discovered the glory of her exquisite tits.
"I could not abandon her sex until she had experienced satisfaction, and while I watched her cunt open and seemingly seek for an intruder I did not possess, I became so excited I could not hold my passions, and promptly soiled my pantaloons! As I was her only friend, we embraced and murmured sympathies, and then I led her into the bedchamber."
Giacomo let the rapier settle as his cock jerked and tried to assume a stance in his trouser leg. She knew him well, he mused, and her detailed description of his sister-in-law's delicate under parts and their enthusiasms had produced the results she no doubt hoped for. But at the moment, Giacomo's mind was occupied with more intriguing matters. "And when you presented this delectable morsel to my brother, what occurred, Calina?"
She giggled. "He was snoring from the wine," she replied. "I thought la signora very pleased and after I had tucked her in beside him, I kissed her with proper conspiratorial affection and turned down the lamp, Master Giacomo. Oh, I left the candles by the door alight, in case some later matters occurred. I saw this afternoon that my brother had removed the stone from the high peekhole."
Giacomo laughed. The suggestions of discord he had observed during the earlier dinner were now explained. His pious brother had been ill at ease and his beautiful sister-in-law had been coldly reserved, entering into a conversation only when pressed by a direct question from himself or Maria.
Helena had acknowledged Taurina but despite their age proximity, she had not warmed to his skinny, half drunk cousin. Most gratifying to Giacomo was that Helena had succumbed to this hot-blooded peasant girl before him; he delighted in women who possessed deeply restricted passions which only a master could bring shriekingly to the surface. His first interest in Helena heightened and as he savored contemplation, his hatred for Guiseppe increased with violent haste.
He lowered the rapier and tossed it to the bed, and as if awaiting this gesture, Calina slithered forward and into his arms, her fingers spread like hungry talons on the rippling muscles of his back. Laughing again, his eyes flashing with excitement, he pushed her back and brought his knee up to a solid nesting in her belly.
Calina sagged, gasping and she lay with clenched fists and out-kicked legs, her mouth a scarlet tube as she fought for breath. Kneeling, Giacomo raised her skirt and saw that she had come without nether-garments. Her big peasant cunt split the-haired curve of her underbody, the purple lips quaking open to reveal her thumb-sized clitoris and below, the stiffening labia of her inner shapes.
He reached down and thrust his big thumb into her cunt until his palm lay flat and his fingers spread over the hirsutely blanketed mound of her pubes. His hand closed, fiercely and with brutal glee, he began to lift and bounce her plump ass on the stone floor.
Her scream of agony was short, her arms flailed and she rolled her head in perverse ecstasy. He tore open her bodice and freed her tits, great soft gloves of tawny flesh, tipped by huge black aureoles from which protruded big quickly hardening nipples.
His thumb now curled and dug into the inner walls of her sex and he felt the sudden flush of fluid as her excited glands reacted. He settled her ass to the stone floor and only vibrated his hand, twisting the captured flesh when she seemed to like his cruelty too much. His prick throbbed against his thigh and his scrotum seemed bloated with boiling jism. When a cry of excruciating joy escaped Calina's lips, he crushed her flesh with new vigor and held it while her orgasm turned her body to frenzied writhing.
While she lay, panting and wailing, he opened his trousers and took out his cock. He knelt between her jerking legs and frigged the thick organ with knowing fingers. Calina opened her eyes in time to see the sudden burst of his cum, a long, gray-white stream of viscid sperm that shot straight for her gaping mouth. It came again and again, each spew slightly less forceful than the preceding one, and when he sighed with deep relief, Calina was streaked with the sticky slime from forehead to hair-lined cunt.
He stripped his prick, dropping several globs directly into her bruised and trembling sex, then stood up to refasten his trousers. "Get out, bitch," he snarled, regaining his rapier.
"Giacomo!" came her plea. "Giacomo, please!"
He laughed and placed the rapier tip to her cunt, and with a slight wrist twist, cut a thin, instantly bloody line across her clitoris. Calina screamed, and the agony wavered down into hysteria, half pain, half joy. She clutched her cunt with both hands and scrambled to a crouch. He stepped and opened the door to the dark, damp corridor, then struck her across the back with the flat of the sword blade and as she stumbled out, mumbling and wailing, he reminded her, "I will know all, slut, and if you hold back one detail, I will cut you a mare's ass to fit the biggest stud in the Dromeda stables!"
But when she was gone, he could not rest so he traded the rapier for his belt pistol and slipped a short vestment over his bare shoulders before he left his rooms.
Holding the fresh torch high, Giacomo kicked again at the huge hulk curled under the blanket. Toli snapped to his knees, his beady eyes blinking from the strong light as he surveyed the wine cellar, then he looked to the foot of his pallet and grunted recognition of his master. He got to his feet, towering a half head above Giacomo, his bare chest and back a mass of animal hair. Toli wore only pants, the soiled and Daggy garment in which he lived. His massive feet were dirty and splayed, with grotesque toes whose nails were trimmed only by friction against the ends of his tattered boots.
"Arrange your wits, you wine-soaked beast," Giacomo said. "Get the key."
Again Toli grunted and his face assumed a pleased look. He shuffled into the shadows between the wine casks, returning in a moment clutching a huge brass key. He handed it to Giacomo, then stooped to drag his dirty pallet from in front of the steel bound door.
Giacomo inserted the key into the lock mouth and snapped a heavy inner bolt aside. Then he pocketed the key and handed the smoking torch to Toli. The hulking monster led the way, and as Giacomo stepped into the narrow, stone-walled corridor, his cock began to thicken and elongate, purely out of habit.
Presently, they came to a deeply angled set of stairs that seemed to reach straight down into the bowels of the earth. After a turn, the strange odor of the depth was accented by sinister sounds, the rasp of scurrying rat feet and the trickle of fetid water, seeping from the moat now several meters above their heads. And another, softer sound, like the mewling of a dying dog or a suffering human.
They came out in a broad chamber, low ceilinged and arched with mighty forms to support the castle above. Along one wall were many steel-grilled doors and along another, a row of thick chains studded into the relentless stones. The center of the chamber was a mass of shadows, created by numerous devices, of heavy timbers shaped in crosses, in circles and in significant squares. There were pulleys hanging from iron ceiling hooks and the dangling ends were crude harnesses of iron belting and leather straps.
As a central fixture, there was a blacksmith's forge, cold now, but possessing its full quota of hammers, tongs and shaping tools. Next to it was a big square pillar, possessing a broad shelf which supported a stained and dusty statue of a Madonna and child. On either side of the old shrine were two torches in wrought iron supports and Toli lit them, flooding the dungeon with yellow light.
Using the same big key, Giacomo moved to a cell door in the center of the row, and from behind, Toli lighted the small cubicle.
She lay on the dirty straw, her naked body sprawled, her mouth open to the slow drip of water leaking through the stones above. Her eyes were wide open, the mewling sounds came from her mouth whenever she was forced to swallow the accumulating water. She was very young, so young her pubic pouch showed only a few straggling black curls and her tits were mere pads of darkly tipped flesh. Giacomo's breath speeded in his aquiline nose; he'd had her nearly a month but he intended to climax his perverse joys tonight. The prospect of wreaking vengeance on his haughty brother and claiming Helena for his own pleasures had excited Giacomo to a feverish inner pitch.
When the key clanked in the ancient lock, the girl jerked and turned her head, her hands going in feeble protection to her crotch. "Bring her," Giacomo said to Toli. She screamed as the burly peasant lifted and flipped her over his shoulder. Her arms waved weakly, her legs kicked with even less meaning. He held her by the simple expedient of hooking his dirty fingers into her ass and squeezing one buttock in his hand.
After a moment of exquisite deciding, Giacomo pointed to the square frame, tilted on a sturdy base. At each corner of the frame were shackles, and below the angle, an oddly arranged set of hand-carved wooden screws. These were motivated by frayed leather plaits that strung down to a drum under the rack. A turn of the drum activated the plaits which in turn, worked the screws and the frame was capable of expanding a foot in four directions.
Ignoring the girl's frenzied twisting and groaning, Toli shackled her into the device, her body hanging in the center of the frame like a spider spread on a beginning web. Her breath came short because of the agonizing tensions and her lips bubbled with the saliva of mortal fear. At a nod from Giacomo, Toli turned the drum and her body stretched to straightness in four directions.
Giacomo laid his pistol on the shrine shelf and with his eyes burning hotly at the body now turned into cords and taut muscles, he removed his vest then opened the Continental front of his trousers.
The girl, using the last of her failing strength, had raised her head on strained throat cords and as he took out his monstrous cock, now less than limp but still not distended to its full length and girth, a cry of horror escaped her lips. Then her head fell back, hanging down so her long wavy tresses made a black curtain, half-way to the cold stone floor. Giacomo stepped over the bottom of the rack frame, his cock arching out over the distorted crotch, his eyes seeking signs of fleshly failure. Her cunt, however young, was bestially unvirginal.
The tendons of her inner thighs had pulled at the gaping slot until the lips were white with strain and the inner surfaces were bulged in stress. Her vulva was a round tunnel, reaching up into her torso, the frayed and lacerated labia swollen from a month of rude intrusions. A small trickle of strongly odorous urine left the aperture and dripped to the floor as her bladder refused the strain of her position.
Giacomo laughed and with a stiff forefinger, searched for the urethral opening and shoved his finger into the diminutive channel. Her response was a jerk of pain and long low groan. He fucked the unfuckable hole, his blood speeding as her body vibrated with indescribable agony. His prick was now up-angled with equal vibrations but he relished its impatience and controlled the urge to ram it into her helpless body. He nodded shortly to Toli and the drum creaked briefly. The hanging body snapped as new forces raged at shoulder and hip joints. A small tendon or two cracked.
Toli grunted his animal mirth. He reached out with a massive fingered hand and stole a quick feel of the girl's ass, thrusting a digit between the slack nates to test her rectum. His hand was waved away by Giacomo. The tongueless giant licked his finger with wetly smacking lips.
At a nod from Giacomo, the drum was again rotated a quarter of a turn, and as the girl's shoulder joints deformed, her tits seemed ready to split. The nipples hardened, the aureoles swelled and as her belly sucked in, the lower edges of her rib cage sharpened drastically. Only then did Giacomo put his huge cock into the tortured cunt, and despite its distension, the circle of flesh was enlarged to fit the lunging shaft. Reaching up, Giacomo closed his quivering fingers into the flattened flesh of her tits and gathered them with all his strength. The nails bit into the taut flesh, and suddenly the skin ripped, blood gushing around his fingers in hot scarlet flooding.
He fucked her, his mouth going down to taste the blood as his cock raced in her unfeeling cunt. He slobbered and gasped and his face drew into a mask nearly as tight-skinned as the body into which he drove his lust. He closed his eyes; now caught in the maelstrom of sadistic passion, he stripped the skin from her chest as if to claw through to her failing heart.
No sound came from the dying girl, no movement from her numbed muscles was possible, and as Giacomo felt his orgasm swelling, he turned his head and nodded to Toli. The drum creaked, but weakly. The snap of one hip joint was followed by a twisting crack from the other, and as Giacomo's cum shot thickly from his blood-filled prick, the rack creaked with sudden finality. Ruptured membranes in her cunt mixed his jism with hot blood and it pumped out of her lifeless vagina and streaked Giacomo's trousers. He lay heavy on her, feeling only the parting of her tissues as Toli extended the rack to its fullest.
And in Giacomo's mind there was only one fevered thought in time, one day, five days, a month, he would have the beautiful Helena to her death and leave her where the vineyard peasants would find her shredded body and bring it to his stupid, hateful brother.
* * *
Giacomo had taken one torch and left Toli two. He stared at the torn and bloody body hanging in the rack and his cock, long hard with waiting, became a tenting log in his baggy trousers. He loosened the drum and unshackled the blood ringed wrists and ankles.
She had been a pretty thing, with firm flesh and the rounded promise of great beauty if she had not ventured from her parents' hut on the outskirts of Vicenza. Toli carried her to a far corner of the torture chamber. He laid her face down over an empty powder keg, nearly rotten with mold and eternal dampness. He found the ring studded into the stone square and with a mighty heave, displaced the plug.
Then he opened his trousers and let his huge prick jut out. He stroked it lovingly until it thundered in his fist. After that, he picked up the dead girl and held her ass high, so when he lunged, his cock went up her unresisting ass-hole with a mighty slurping sound.
He fucked her furiously, swaying, holding her this way and that, and as his jism spurted, he pushed deep and deposited it high in her ruptured bowel. Panting with satiation, he let her drop off of his softening prick into the square black hole. As usual, he counted four before the splash told him her body had finally found peace in the dank depths of the century old well.
He grunted happily as he imagined the nature of the crawling, sucking creatures who would soon devour her broken body.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was quite late when Helena awakened in the morning and Guiseppe had already departed their bed. She wasn't sure that she was pleased or displeased; the night before she had been encouraged and certain that her husband was mortally sorry for his brutalities and she had been looking forward to a long session of apologies and gentle supplications which she had thought would surely give her some advantage over her husband in months to come.
The other probability was that her empty bed meant she had escaped being soundly fucked before breakfast. She squirmed to test the soreness in her bottom. There was little to remind her of Guiseppe's violence but her memories. Then she heard a small sound and turned her head. Sudden inner warmth flooded her body as she discovered it was Calina, silently tidying the huge bedchamber.
"Good morning, signora," Calina purred. "You have slept well?"
"Thank you, yes. I feel much better today, Calina."
The pretty maid brought a folded and sealed sheet of paper from the gilded and frescoed dresser. "Signore Guiseppe has left this, signora. Shall I bring tea while you read it?"
"Coffee, if you will. We Austrians have grown quite fond of it in the past few years."
The outer inscription was to 'My darling Helena' and she wriggled with pleasure at the intimacy of the flowing script. Breaking the seal, she read Guiseppe's note. It was a bit disappointing; she had thought that he might have taken himself to some distant place in order for her to find forgiveness at her leisure. There was no word about forgiveness in the note, although he made several references to his love for her. In the main, the note explained that he had been called to Vicenza as a member of the Privy Counsel to aid in forming a district government which might have some voice in the turbulent political intrigues of Venetia. The note ended with expansive and delicious words of love and it was signed "Your own True Love, Guiseppe."
Not much, but something, she thought. She sat hugging herself with small glee, her mind hopefully creating a series of anguishes Guiseppe might know until he returned to her bed.
Then Calina entered with the silver tray and the exquisite service.
"Did il signore remark the possible time of his return, Calina?"
"I did not speak with him, signora. He left early, immediately after the courier's arrival at dawn."
That displeased Helena. His summons to Vicenza had been genuine and not inspired by the degree of humility she had desired. Then she looked at Calina and the flood of warmth returned. There might be many delightful ways to spend the time before Guiseppe's business in Vicenza was done. Her breast nipples suddenly hardened and she became conscious of the intent look upon Calina's face.
"You may brush my hair and coiffure it before my bath, dear Calina," she said. "Perhaps then you will medicate my wounds to the degree of their needs."
"I would be delighted, signora! Oh, you are so pretty, so young and fresh! I hope la signora is pleased with my services?"
Helena smiled demurely. "Very pleased, indeed, Calina."
Guiseppe abruptly out of her mind, Helena slipped from her bed and with a gesture, waved away the robe Calina offered. She moved to the long cushioned bench before her dressing mirror and appraised herself; slim, high breasted and filmily clad in the finest of Vienna silks. She passed her hands from the deep fullness of her tits down over her belly, then back around her hips, and this suggestive caress she turned into a luxurious stretch by extending her arms high above her head and quivering with morning goodness. Then she sat down on the bench and Calina approached, the ivory handled brush in hand.
Suddenly tense with an expectation she could not name, Helena watched their reflections in the mirror. Then she felt Calina's fingers straightening the sleep-tangled strands of thick golden hair and her spine tingled unreasonably.
"I should think, signora, it would be well to protect the delicate fabric of your gown," Calina said in a low voice, and without permission, untied the ribbon at Helena's neck and laid the gown so open it dropped down over her arms, exposing the alabaster whiteness of her shoulders and breasts.
Their eyes met in the mirror, and something hot and eager crawled through Helena's consciousness. Her lungs seemed empty and she inhaled deeply, lifting her tits into jiggling. Calina's hands slipped forward and down and the fingers curled around the pulsing globes in warm gentility. Helena gasped but the maid only increased the pressure of her intimate caress. Staring at the erotic reflection, Helena felt her cunt become wet and she shifted her thighs apart to relieve the ache in her groin. The fingers now were squeezing and molding and Calina's palms rubbed the nipples into near bursting.
Then to Helena's surprise and consternation, Calina ceased her fondling and retrieved the ivory handled brush, holding it in a peculiar open fingered grip that made the grasp seem almost obscene in the mirror. The brushing began and the soothing strokes seemed to blend downward with the excitement Helena felt. Occasionally, the bristles touched her shoulder or her back and the shock was oddly thrilling, adding instantly to the tensions Helena already nurtured. She had had her hair brushed nearly every day of her life, by her governess in Vienna, maids over the years and by her own hand, but now she felt like a petted cat.
The expression on Calina's face was even more exciting; Helena suddenly leaned back, stopping the coursing brush, her head resting against Calina's breasts.
"Yes, signora?" the maid asked in a whisper.
"Oh, dear, dear Calina!" Helena whimpered.
"La signora is distraught?"
Helena turned her face, feeling the soft pillow of Calina's tit. "Be good to me," she husked. "I I feel so alone and strange in this foreign place!"
* * *
It was not quite what Helena wanted it to be. They stood naked together, tits deforming hotly around tits, bellies flush and thighs offset enough to press one into the other's muff of love. But there remained an aloofness, as was proper between maid and mistress and to breach this social barrier, Helena put her lips to Calina's and burned the veil with the fire of her kiss. The illicit intimacy seemed to change Calina instantly. Her hand traveled down Helena's back and she felt of the full rounds, her fingers slipping between them to touch her half-healed anus. In turn, Helena let her hands wander over the peasant girl's perfect back and down, the thrill of boldly handling another woman's vibrating body almost more exciting than she could stand.
As her ass-hole was petted, she ventured to feel of Calina's and its soft rough pucker seemed to pulsate under her fingertip. Then Calina wailed and sank down, her lips wiping wetly and pecking at the soft bulges and shadowed hollows until her open mouth was planted on the silkily-haired mound and her tongue was low, darting between the moist lips of Helena's quaking cunt. Only Calina's arms, circling her hips kept Helena from falling. Her senses reeled, partly because of her building eagerness and partly because she was gripped by a sense of sweet evil. She moaned as her maid's hot mouth nibbled and pulled at her distending clitoris and then she lost all sense of equilibrium and fell back on the bed. like a scurrying kitten, Calina followed her crotch and Helena opened her legs and sighed with delight as the dark head began to roll and bob in tempo to the lash and press of Calina's adept tongue.
Shuddering with ecstasy, Helena lay, fists clenched, eyes closed and her mind turned to a searching eye that saw the lewd shape of her own cunt being probed and licked and stimulated in heavenly abuse. Then she began to gently hunch and writhe her hips and the new sensations that resulted from this learning were almost impossible to stand. Her thighs parted until she thought the tendons must surely tear and her heels beat a small tattoo on the bed.
Then Calina's ringers moved up and to the close-pressed crack of Helena's nates, working the moisture from her own mouth and the ooze from her mistress's cunt into the secret place before her forefinger entered the pulsing pucker. Helena groaned and drew her knees high and to her chest to open and expose her penetrated ass-hole. Un-like the brutal ram of Guiseppe's cock, Calina's finger was gentle and searching and then steadily in and out in rhythm to her plunging, licking tongue. Helena sighed and let her body give to the exquisite tensions.
Once, she wanted to do something for Calina but her will was shattered by the ecstasy of being loved. She tensed and strained, remembering from yesterday the extreme goodness that followed the building irritation. When it came, her wail of joy was long and quavering. Her cunt seemed to gape in an effort to swallow Calina's head and her ass-hole sucked and milked at the pistoning finger. Somewhere between her legs, Calina's mumbling became a bubbling, and her head rolled from one of Helena's thighs to the other as if she too were stricken with the unreasonable passion.
For awhile then, they played at fondling and kissing and it wasn't until exhaustion and hunger caused Helena to remember that she was the lady and Calina the servant and that as Guiseppe's wife, she was expected to make an appearance before high noon, that she had her bath and allowed Calina to dress her.
With clothes on, their relationship became stiffly proper, but Helena could not deny the pretty maid a soft cheek pat as she departed for the castle's lower levels.
The garden was beautiful because it was beginning summer and the contadinos had been selected from the field hands with special care that they understood the flowering shrubs as well as the vineyard plants. Helena sat with Maria on the finely wrought iron bench beside a whispering fountain. Helena was relaxed, not only because her body still glowed with Calina's ministrations of lip and finger but because the sun was warm and her new aunt was comfortable to be with. Helena thought Maria's dark maturity to be nearly beautiful, certainly in massive contrast to her daughter's ugly thinness.
Since Calina, Helena had found new appreciation of the tawny Italian skin and the coal blackness of their thick hair. And the bold high curves of Maria held special meaning too. For the first time in her seventeen years, Helena practiced disrobing another woman with her calculating eyes. If Calina were her measuring stick, Maria, in a heavier, more fleshly way, qualified without reservation. And she was glowingly pleasant.
"My dear Helena, I have deliberately sought these moments alone with you," she said with no great emphasis. "You see, I remember well my own state of mind when Madero Dromeda brought me from my home in Milan to this huge pile of stone and tradition. I was then hardly older than yourself. I knew little of my new marito, nothing of what was expected of a wife, and not a single temperament among my acquired family. What I am trying to say is that I would be honored to be, not only your zia, but your friend and confidante. And if you need, an advisor in the often difficult matters of being a wife to a Dromeda!"
Surprised, Helena blinked, then a flood of gratitude for the handsome woman's concern flooded her and she leaned forward to clasp one of Maria's hands in both of hers. "Oh, you are so sweet, so very, very sweet!" she exclaimed. "And of course, I welcome your friendship, as well as your experience and concern."
Maria laughed softly. "I was correct, then. Guiseppe has been something of a problem, has he not?"
Helena flushed and lowered her chin. Despite a lately acquired spirit of sexual adventure, she had not quite resolved the matter of Guiseppe's ruthless rage, nor his brutal attack upon her heart and ass-hole. "It is perhaps because I do not understand men in general," she managed to say. "He is a dear husband and I love him, Maria nodded. "I know. I am particularly knowledgeable about my twin nephews. You see, I raised them from the age of five, following the untimely death of their parents. And I must tell you that there is as much difference between Guiseppe and Giacomo as there is between the sun and the moon!" Maria laughed with a massive jiggling of her pliable flesh. "You have married the sober, industrious and dedicated one, dear Helena. As a woman, I should say Giacomo is the exciting twin, though less dependable to a female in the years of her charm's decline. What trouble have you had with Guiseppe?" she suddenly asked.
"He became enraged in one of our private moments and I suffered greatly because of it," Helena blurted without observing the verbal trap in the forming. "Oh! I didn't mean-"
"But, of course, you did!" Maria interrupted her. "And as you show no outward wounding, presume your injuries were internal." She leaned close and smiled gently. "You see, dear, Helena, as their second mother, I am quite aware of their sexual appendages. Even as boys, they were vineyard scourges and many a careless peasant girl wound up with lacerations she had not bargained for!"
"Oh!" Helena gasped. "But-but surely not Guiseppe, Aunt Maria! Surely not! He seemed so tender-and inexperienced! Oh, dear! I seem unable to keep anything from you!"
"Is there need to keep anything from one who is only concerned with your welfare? I assure you, Guiseppe is no innocent novice at the game of love. I would suggest that he is merely clumsy, as it were. He has inherited his father's temper and some of his mother's perversities. Ah, it is not a question of excusing him, it is a question of two women forming a strong private alliance to protect one from physical agony and the other from worry! Because, I assure you that what he did to you once in what you believed to be an unreasonable rage, he will do again because beneath his polished exterior lies a share of Dromeda beast."
"Oh! You frighten me, dear Maria!"
"I meant to, I think. Frank survey of the problem is always more practical than subterfuge and hope. I believe one of the reasons dear Giacomo has never married is because he is a sensitive man, and respects womankind too much to endanger one he might love with the unpredictable traditions of his family. Well, if Guiseppe has not yet understood himself, we are bound to consider appropriate defenses against whatever assaults he may make upon your delicate nature, are we not? Si. The obvious beginning is to remain aloof from his constant moods of lust. As his wife, you are charged by God and law to service his masculinity when he desires it, but do not make the mistake of encouraging him, my dear, because once begun, Dromeda lust knows no boundaries and respects no fleshly pain."
Helena felt a massive hand grabbing at her heart. It was almost as if this beautiful matron had been present at her degradation, with full knowledge of the circumstances behind Guiseppe's rage. There had been no evidence of his temper until she, in a beginning surge of affection, had volunteered a love act of her own. Had she but maintained the quiet receptivity of the first five days, controlling the strange urges that had made it imperative to take his prick in her lips, the entire incident would not have occurred. Now she looked at Maria with eyes full of gratitude and admiration.
"You are so-so very wise, my aunt!" she breathed.
"Yes. Well, that is all that is left to a woman of my years, sweet Helena. And now, shall we have had enough of this talk? Yes. But at any time you are troubled or confused, please come to me!"
"I will, I will! Oh, you have helped me so much!"
"My duty and my delight. Oh. There is one more family secret that might be well for you to understand. Despite the fact that they are twins, there is little affection expended between Guiseppe and Giacomo. For years, Giacomo has seemed the superior man in the things men value the rapier, the horse, the sighting of a pistol and the way of gaming among other men. Guiseppe has been the man of business with a rather dull persistency for barter and trade. He grubs with figures, profits, crops and the mundane matters of the marketplace. Of necessity, this is important to an estate such as ours, but with Guiseppe, it seems to be some sort of a facade to hide the turbulent man who lurks just below his handsome skin! I tell you this to warn you that if Giacomo's charm becomes as compelling as it has in the past with other full-blooded women, take strong personal measures not to permit Guiseppe the opportunity to vent his private furies over imagined acts."
"Oh, I would never, never-" Helena's lips stiffened. Only that morning, she had committed sin upon sin with Calina Toli sins that could neither be forgiven by a husband, a priest nor God himself. She sat quivering with self-revulsion until the afternoon sun dropped below the trees and her aunt expressed a chill that corresponded with the one that frightened Helena, if of different source.
* * *
They rode like devils, Giacomo bareback with only a hackamore to the head of his
big black stallion; Taurina side-saddle, her thin right leg closed tightly around the high Venisian pommel.
At the stream they turned north and rode, ducking the heavy hanging branches and lifting their mounts over small streams and cutbanks until they came to the small patch of greensward under some particularly towering trees. Giacomo dismounted over his stallion's rump, then turned to aid his cousin to the grass. Except for her high hair and faintly tinted cheeks, she looked extremely boyish in the leather bodice and long skirt. She wore ankle high boots of soft suede. Other than these items, Taurina was naked.
--------------
ARCHIVE NOTE: At this point, a close reader might detect a duplication of some text. The original, printed pocketbook did indeed begin to repeat itself here.
--------------
While Giacomo secured the horses, she gratitude for the handsome woman's concern flooded her and she leaned forward to clasp one of Maria's hands in both of hers. "Oh, you are so sweet, so very, very sweet!" she exclaimed. "And of course, I welcome your friendship, as well as your experience and concern."
Maria laughed softly. "I was correct, then. Guiseppe has been something of a problem, has he not?"
Helena flushed and lowered her chin. Despite a lately acquired spirit of sexual adventure, she had not quite resolved the matter of Guiseppe's ruthless rage, nor his brutal attack upon her heart and ass-hole. "It is perhaps because I do not understand men in general," she managed to say. "He is a dear husband and I love him, Maria nodded. "I know. I am particularly knowledgeable about my twin nephews. You see, I raised them from the age of five, following the untimely death of their parents. And I must tell you that there is as much difference between Guiseppe and Giacomo as there is between the sun and the moon!" Maria laughed with a massive jiggling of her pliable flesh. "You have married the sober, industrious and dedicated one, dear Helena. As a woman, I should say Giacomo is the exciting twin, though less dependable to a female in the years of her charm's decline. What trouble have you had with Guiseppe?" she suddenly asked.
"He became enraged in one of our private moments and I suffered greatly because of it," Helena blurted without observing the verbal trap in the forming. "Oh! I didn't mean-"
"But, of course, you did!" Maria interrupted her. "And as you show no outward wounding, I presume your injuries were internal." She leaned close and smiled gently. "You see, dear Helena, as their second mother, I am quite aware of their sexual appendages. Even as boys, they were vineyard scourges and many a careless peasant girl wound up with lacerations she had not bargained for!"
"Oh!" Helena gasped. "But-but surely not Guiseppe, Aunt Maria! Surely not! He seemed so tender-and inexperienced! Oh, dear! I seem unable to keep anything from you!"
"Is there need to keep anything from one who is only concerned with your welfare? I assure you, Guiseppe is no innocent novice at the game of love. I would suggest that he is merely clumsy, as it were. He has inherited his father's temper and some of his mother's perversities. Ah, it is not a question of excusing him, it is a question of two women forming a strong private alliance to protect one from physical agony and the other from worry! Because, I assure you that what he did to you once in what you believed to be an unreasonable rage, he will do again because beneath his polished exterior lies a share of Dromeda beast."
"Oh! You frighten me, dear Maria!"
"I meant to, I think. Frank survey of the problem is always more practical than subterfuge and hope. I believe one of the reasons dear Giacomo has never married is because he is a sensitive man, and respects womankind too much to endanger one he might love with the unpredictable traditions of his family. Well, if Guiseppe has not yet understood himself, we are bound to consider appropriate defenses against whatever assaults he may make upon your delicate nature, are we not? Si. The obvious beginning is to remain aloof from his constant moods of lust. As his wife, you are charged by God and law to service his masculinity when he desires it, but do not make the mistake of encouraging him, my dear, because once begun, Dromeda lust knows no boundaries and respects no fleshly pain."
Helena felt a massive hand grabbing at her heart. It was almost as if this beautiful matron had been present at her degradation, with full knowledge of the circumstances behind Guiseppe's rage. There had been no evidence of his temper until she, in a beginning surge of affection, had volunteered a love act of her own. Had she but maintained the quiet receptivity of the first five days, controlling the strange urges that had made it imperative to take his prick in her lips, the entire incident would not have occurred. Now she looked at Maria with eyes full of gratitude and admiration.
"You are so-so very wise, my aunt!" she breathed.
"Yes. Well, that is all that is left to a woman of my years, sweet Helena. And now, shall we have had enough of this talk? Yes. But at any time you are troubled or confused, please come to me!"
"I will, I will! Oh, you have helped me so much!"
"My duty and my delight. Oh. There is one more family secret that might be well for you to understand. Despite the fact that they are twins, there is little affection expended between Guiseppe and Giacomo. For years, Giacomo has seemed the superior man in the things men value the rapier, the horse, the sighting of a pistol and the way of gaming among other men. Guiseppe has been the man of business with a rather dull persistency for barter and trade. He grubs with figures, profits, crops and the mundane matters of the marketplace. Of necessity, this is important to an estate such as ours, but with Guiseppe, it seems to be some sort of a facade to hide the turbulent man who lurks just below his handsome skin! I tell you this to warn you that if Giacomo's charm becomes as compelling as it has in the past with other full-blooded women, take strong personal measures not to permit Guiseppe the opportunity to vent his private furies over imagined acts."
"Oh, I would never, never-" Helena's lips stiffened. Only that morning, she had committed sin upon sin with Calina Toli sins that could neither be forgiven by a husband, a priest nor God himself. She sat quivering with self-revulsion until the afternoon sun dropped below the trees and her aunt expressed a chill that corresponded with the one that frightened Helena, if of different source.
* * *
They rode like devils, Giacomo bareback with only a hackamore to the head of his big black stallion; Taurina side-saddle, her thin right leg closed tightly around the high Venisian pommel.
At the stream they turned north and rode, ducking the heavy hanging branches and lifting their mounts over small streams and cutbanks until they came to the small patch of greensward under some particularly towering trees. Giacomo dismounted over his stallion's rump, then turned to aid his cousin to the grass. Except for her high hair and faintly tinted cheeks, she looked extremely boyish in the leather bodice and long skirt. She wore ankle high boots of soft suede. Other than these items, Taurina was naked.
While Giacomo secured the horses, she stripped even these few garments and with no hesitation, walked naked and startlingly bony into the pool formed by the slightly dammed stream. The pool was shallow. She stood with the water cutting her thin thighs just below the flat hang of her thinly padded buttocks. Giacomo grinned. She always hesitated because the next step would plunge her cunt into the cold water and make her yelp.
Leisurely, he stripped his own blouse and trousers, then naked, sat down on the discarded clothing. He hadn't come to swim, he had come to fuck his scrawny cousin, a delight he could not really explain because she lacked everything he desired in a woman and offered some hazards of her own. For one, her tears when they were screwed to satiation because he would not tell her he loved her. He pitched a pebble.
She twisted, causing wrinkles of skin to resemble the bark of a wind-twirled tree. "When I am ready, fool!" she told him.
He spread his knees and stroked his swelling prick. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in fascination. Then she dove into the crystal waters, a lean arrow that hardly left a wave.
While she paddled about, blowing and splashing, he found the squat black bottle in the bag slung from her saddle and popped the cork with his strong teeth. He took a long pull, then flopped out on the grass, his cock a long limber log lying over his thigh.
Presently Taurina came wading to the shore, her body dripping. He gave her the bottle and she drank deeply, then began to slap and smooth the excess water from her curveless body. Then she sank down and after another gurgling draft, curled with her bony ass nearly to his face, began to frig and kiss his gigantic prick.
The sharpness of her bended bottom intrigued him, as did the knots of muscle that formed at her high outer thighs. He bunched the fingers of one hand and took full hold of her protruding cunt, squeezing it to see the ooze from the purplish lips. Her hips waved in appreciation and he pulled the gathered flesh, turning her quim into a soft fishmouth. She was ready to be fucked, he knew, but this condition was one hardly ever departed from his bone-thin cousin. He touched her ass-hole, rubbing the hair to each side so the dark rose pucker winked like a ball-less eye. His prick distended in her mouth and he began to feel her thin lips sliding over the outer half of the sensitive organ.
Finally, he grunted. "Take care, wench, or I will fill your belly with more nourishment than you have had for far too long!"
She sat up and turned, licking her mouth with a long pink tongue. "You hate me, don't you, dear Giacomo?"
"No. Only your great baggy tits, my Taurina," he laughed.
"Someday, I will desert you and go to Guiseppe!"
"He not only has less cock than I but far less ability with it. Anyway, it now cavorts in the delicate blonde pussy of my sister-in-law. Alas, poor me! I have only the goat cunt and the hairy ass-hole of my skinny cousin. Today, it is to be which, bag of bones?"
"Both, my abominable cousin?"
"I am a man, not a peeled willow branch. You have a choice of one. I prefer your ass-hole because in fucking, I do not have to look at your ugly face."
She giggled, vibrating her concave belly. She took the wine bottle and drank deeply. "I guessed that and shit copiously in the water, uomo!"
"Now I am a man," he laughed, getting to his feet. "Moments ago I was an abominable cousin. Your perspicuity sharpens with the fire of your insatiable bowel. Rise, bitch, and show me the love tunnel you wish blessed by my impatient prick."
She stood, a high lean branch of shapeless willow, then she bent forward, knees back-kinked, her ass a sharp split in her narrow hips. He spat a gob of saliva to his fingers and transferred it to the breadth of his blood-filled cock. Then he moved forward and while he grunted, she groaned and presently, his prick opened her ass-hole and twisted itself into the pulsating softness of her rectum.
It was a long fuck because she was not a new and exciting receptacle and there had been no real joke in his remark about her insatiable bowel. How many cums she had he did not know nor care, but when his came, it exploded with blinding ecstasy and filled her ass with white hot jism. Gasping with male glee, he pushed her off of his abruptly slippery prick and sent her stumbling into the water. Then he followed her in and while she sobbed at his brutality, he washed his shitted cock with her wetted hair.
They drank the rest of the wine to ease the water's chill, then rode like devils back to the walls of il Castello di Dromeda.
CHAPTER FIVE
Except for a few interior walls and those added in later generations, nearly every wall in the castle was at least two meters thick. This ponderous stonework had served two purposes. It assured the castle of a long, unsagging life and it had provided space for narrow passages through which the original Dromedas could move about their intrigues and amours without alarming uninvolved family or guests. At specific intervals, there were narrow hidden stairways leading from the ground level to the second floor, and one or two that wound surreptitiously into the castle towers.
There was no secret about the existence of these passages, some hardly more than tunnels of crawl height, but in past centuries, only a select few knew where they existed and how to get into and out of them.
Maria Galetia Dromeda knew because her husband had once shown her the parchment diagram of their devious wanderings, and being of a suspicious, conniving nature, she had furthered this knowledge in the early years of her marriage by meticulously searching the passages out. She knew the exact position of the many peekholes and where the stone corridors dead-ended or oozed water. Since the death of her husband and her brother and sister-in-law, the passageways had been of great help in maintaining her stature as second mother to Guiseppe and Giacomo. They had also been one of her major entertainments because Maria delighted in spying upon everyone, particularly those engaged in dressing, undressing, making love or doing anything that excited her bizarre sense of the erotic.
For ten years, her very favorite set of peekholes were those that provided her with a full sight of Giacomo's apartment. Since the day she had caught him fucking her daughter, Maria had missed few of Giacomo's varied adventures. She had watched with eagerness his cock grow from that of a mischievous boy to that of a lusty man, and she knew which of the servant girls he had fucked and how they liked to have him do it. She had stood in a dark passageway for hours, her hot eyes glued to a slot or a hole and masturbated herself until her legs nearly refused to support her, while below, Giacomo fucked and pummeled and harassed a squealing young servant.
She knew his every mood, and the ones she preferred were those in which his lust was accented by his instinctive cruelty.
There had been once when he had brought to his apartment the ten year old daughter of an estate woodcutter. Toli had actually done the bringing, the child bound and gagged in a straw sack. They had dumped her onto the stone floor and Toli had stripped off her ragged dress and her cheap cotton bloomers. Giacomo had whipped her tender young body until she could only moan and writhe, then Toli had gathered her in his arms, bent double and cinched by his bestial strength and Giacomo had fucked her ass-hole and bloody virgin cunt until she had fainted from agony and shock.
The orgy had lasted for several hours, with Giacomo reviving his prick by whipping the girl until pain forced her to scream anew. Maria had never known what had become of the girl because she had abused her cunt and ass-hole with her tireless fingers until it had been necessary to sit down in the passageway and rest. When she had finally managed to struggle erect again, the girl and Toli were gone and Giacomo lay on his bed, his swollen cock a lovely weary thing of white and dark red lying across his hairy thigh. There had been some rumor around il Castello di Dromeda that a woodcutter's child had wandered away and been devoured by timber wolves, but Maria had never spoken of what she knew and certainly not of what she had guessed.
Now she opened the panel at the side of the huge fireplace in her sitting room and slipped through, the small lamp in her left hand lighting the narrow corridor that seemed to lead off into the bowels of the castle. But instead of taking the right turn toward Giacomo's quarters, she turned another way and presently, noting certain forms in the stonework, came to the peekholes that opened down into Guiseppe's apartments.
Although there had never been any very exciting things to see through a particular slot, Maria now tensed with anticipation as she pressed her eye to the aperture. It looked directly down on the huge bed, now lying in a strip of bright morning sun.
Helena was sitting up and Calina was there, her peasant skirt removed and her blouse unlaced to expose her lushly swaying tits. Maria caught her breath; two beauties, one blonde and delicate with skin as white as milk, the other dark and vital, and both were squirming in anticipation of what they intended to do. As excited as she was, Maria frowned as the two nearly naked women hugged and kissed. She minded the intimacy not at all but the difference in their social statures gave the passionate embrace a kind of overtone Maria did not appreciate.
Then they ceased to be maid and mistress and became writhing, clutching lovers and as the two bodies entwined arms and legs and crawled one against the other, Maria opened her own morning gown and slid a nervous, eager hand down over her smoothly curved belly into the mass of curly black hair where her quaking cunt awaited her adept fingers.
* * *
Giacomo sat in a twist on the narrow stone step, his face close to the wall so his view of what went on below was as unobstructed as possible. He sat with one knee up, the other leg down over another step or two and his left hand stroked his rigid prick, not in full masturbation but as a pacifier. He hadn't suspected his sister-in-law of such naked beauty, nor had he ever given Calina credit for such passions.
They lay now, each face-to-crotch with Helena on top, her blonde hair hanging like a curtain around the dark well of Calina's cunt. The silken strands slithered and shook to the violence of Helena's licking and deep kissing. More exciting to Giacomo was the magnificent rounds of her bare white ass, poised over Calina's up-kissing. The perfect symmetry of Helena's nates, shining in the morning sun made his balls roll in their wealth of sperm. He could not see her cunt because of the angle and the intrusion of Calina's face, but he could see the small pink pucker of her ass-hole, now being rubbed and petted by the maid's finger.
Together, the two were humping and twisting, testifying to the intensity of their oman-to-woman caresses. He could see how Helena's tits splayed out over Calina's belly, rippling enticingly with each movement and as he watched, Giacomo altered some of the plans he had made for his sister-in-law. She was not, he saw, just a young Austrian bitch with a pretty face and a demure mien. She was a full-blooded female, with deep potentials that only a master of lust could reveal. Faintly, he could hear them now, mewling and wailing into each other's pussy, and he thought from the jerking way they were crushing together that they had both reached the perihelion of their passions. And after a moment of stillness, they rolled together and Helena turned, her sleek legs spreading to expose the pink slit that now was wet and matted from Calina's mouth. They embraced strongly, mouth to mouth, tasting each other's cunt and squirming as if their bodies would melt into one huge ecstatic pile.
Giacomo let his back straighten, his prick tingling in his hand as he sat up.
Then he heard the sound. It came from below his seat on the secret stairs. He listened, and it sounded as if it were far away or buried in the stone. He shoveled his cock into his trousers and laced it in, then with less noise than a cat, he moved down the steps, one hand outstretched to ward against a sudden turn or an overhead obstruction. He knew the staircase well; he had spied upon his hated brother for many years, but he had never ventured into any of the cold dark passageways which branched from the staircase because he was not a man to concern himself with clandestine peepings as long as he was half master of the castle and possessed keys to every lock. Now he came to a passageway which he knew was at the second floor level. He listened.
For all the world, the sound seemed that of an out of breath person, a woman, he thought. Knowing the thickness of the walls, he could not associate the panting with the two impassioned women in his brother's bed. He moved, holding one hand to the butt of his pistol. Then he came to another turn in the passageway and to his surprise, some distance away was a hand lamp sitting on the corridor floor. It took him a moment to accustom his eyes to the small glare so he could see the nature of the huddled figure on the far side of the lantern.
He moved forward on soundless feet and when he was within a few meters, he chuckled. "Zia mia!" he whispered. "Now, what of this?"
She sat on the corridor floor, her bare legs thrusting out of her house gown, the flesh gleaming in the lantern light as smooth sensuous tapers bent at plump knees. Her head snapped up and her hand left the deeply shadowed spread of her crotch, but not before Giacomo had identified its clutching mission.
"Giacomo!" Maria gasped. "Dio Mia! How have you found me?"
He came forward and offered her his hand. She had trouble coming to her feet, and when she had straightened her robe opening, she faced him, the underlight from the lamp casting her strained face in a hard, unsmiling mask.
Then Giacomo saw the square hole and peered through it. He was looking at the side of the bed and his jaw dropped open in further surprise. Helena was on her hands and knees at the edge of the bed, her rump upturned. Protruding from her ass-hole and firmly gripped by Calina, was a hairbrush, the handle of which seemed well buried in her bowel. Calina's free hand was out of sight under Helena's belly but by the twist of her arm and wrist, Giacomo was certain the peasant girl was frigging his sister-in-law in rhythm to the plunge and drag of the brush handle. Giacomo moved and pulled his aunt so she could see.
A small wail of anguish escaped Maria's mouth and she turned into Giacomo's half embrace, her ample, uncorseted tits spreading hotly across his chest. A second later, he felt her hand at his groin and then her fingers around his still rigid prick, as if she were trying to pluck it through the cloth of his swagger breeches. When he slid his circling arm down and let his hand go to the full firm rounds of his aunt's ass, a strange headiness attacked him. In the near darkness, her body hard to his and her hand squeezing his cock while he massaged her quivering rump, she was suddenly not the woman he had known throughout his conscious life as Zia Maria, his substitute mother and advisor and sympathizer.
"Giacomo, Giacomo!" she breathed against his neck.
"Not here," he husked. "I will carry the lantern and you will lead us to wherever this miserable tunnel ends."
Sobbing softly, she turned and he picked up the lamp, holding it high and to one side so that its yellow rays leaped ahead of her steps. For the first time in his adult life, Giacomo was confused, but the shape of her, and what he remembered about how he had found her made full awareness of Maria unnecessary. And his hand still curled as it had shaped around the cheeks of her ass; his cock throbbed from the manner in which she had sought its fullness.
* * *
She rested in the velvet chaise, her face turned slightly away from him. To his questions, she mostly nodded. "For years, dear Giacomo! I have fed my starved emotions by living the loves and delights of other people through the passageway peepholes. Yes, yes. But I had no other choice!"
"And you have spied on me, too, have you not, my aunt?"
She nodded, then turned, her eyes wide with pleading. "But I loved you, Giacomo! Not only as your aunt but as a woman, too old and ugly to count with such a man as I discovered you were! Now I am destroyed because as a secret it was divine, enough really! Many times, unbeknownst to you, I even did small things to aid you in your lusts, knowing that whatever you chose to do would-likewise fire my blood and make me a whole woman!"
"Then you know about Taurina and me?"
Her nod wiped away the rapidly diminishing affections he had held for many years as her nephew. He stared at her, then snarled.
"You bitch," he said quietly. "And the second cellar chambers?"
"I I could never find the key. But I suspected that it held some special meaning to you, my nephew! And I did not care! As long as what you did came back to me, no matter its nature, I could not find it in my heart to cast away my one chance for mortal happiness! Oh God, what an animal I have become!"
Giacomo came to her side and let his hand slip down the neck of her robe, his fingers feeling of the huge tits, testing their firmness and their heat. He moved to touch a nipple and it was large and very hard. Her eyes met his and he smiled crookedly.
Maria quivered.
"Yes, yes, Giacomo! Anything-anything you desire is yours!"
She flipped open her house gown and lay under his hot gaze, naked from throat to knee. Her smoothly curved belly flowed down and ended in a muff of strong black hair and as he looked, she shifted and her large if close-lipped cunt seemed to pout in readiness. The thick purple lips were moist and from between them, the slowly growing shape of a large clitoris appeared. She was, he thought, as much woman as he had ever seen, and though she wailed and wept about her freshly revealed secrets, her cunt spoke to him in voluble silences.
"Well, as long as you have never quite been an aunt, you might as well be a woman," he said. "Get naked. I want to fuck you."
* * *
He felt no love for her, rather a small anger for her long repressed desires and a meanness toward her groveling submission. He sat on her bed, his muscular body bare, his big cock standing out from between his thighs in rigid threat while he felt of her naked body as she stood in statuesque patience.
He had made her take her hair down so it hung in thick waves at back and breast. He put his hands up and felt of her hairy armpits, digging his thumbs in so she winced in pain. Her tits were melons of throbbing flesh and he made her gasp and writhe with gripping, rolling fingers and two that pinched the hardened nipples until she panted with perverse ecstasies. Then he began to feel downward, of her belly and strongly arched back. She watched him as if hypnotized and her breathing speeded as he probed her lower belly to depress and shift her inner organs.
Then he turned her and manipulated her twin-pillowed ass, spreading the cheeks, pressing them and spreading them again so his thumbs could ride deep between them to where her ass-hole winked in puckered waiting. At this, Maria twisted and her hand went to his cheek.
"Oh, God, Giacomo! Now, now! Mount me and release this madness boiling in my body! Fuck me, now, now!"
"Stand still, woman," he growled. "I've not done with playing."
"Giacomo-"
"Bend over."
With a cry of willingness, Maria folded forward, turning her ass into a broad, fully rounded loveliness, huge but perfectly formed and Giacomo thought it a fine day because he had already seen two rumps beyond compare; this ass, as finely molded as the most beautiful sculptures in Rome, and his sister-in-law's, as excitingly divided as an ass could ever be.
He laid his fingertips in the broad deep valley and fingered the soft between-flesh as if it were a musical instrument. Her cunt, in that position, made his cock rear in impatient demand but he only passed his hand under to cup the fat, now moisting lips in his palm and fingers, pressing it closed, squeezing its velvet surfaces together to watch their deforming, then releasing them to see how they sprang eagerly apart.
Maria mewled and wriggled her behind, but Giacomo only increased the intimacy of his fondling. Two fingers passed easily into her vulva, but three caused the flesh to stretch and grip. He did not frig her, but merely tested her reactions, and he avoided touching the swelling finger of her clitoris. She was grunting now and panting, anticipating his rise and ram, but he still only toyed with her ass-hole and pussy, his private perversity reveling in her distress. Occasionally, he left her private delights to smooth and explore the contours of her rump and thighs, petting her flesh to a fever with his palms.
Presently, he saw her legs begin to quiver from strain and desire, so he touched her clitoris and began an entirely new mode of teasing. Under his touch, the sensitive organ seemed to harden and swell even more and he flipped it up and down and to each side, wetting his finger in the ooze now dripping from her deeper glands. She began to moan, her lips sputtering with volumes of saliva. He passed cunt-wet fingers under her body and forward between her tits and thrust them into her full-lipped mouth.
So frantic was her need that she sucked them, rolling her tongue over the tips as if they were small twin pricks. This new wet he smeared onto her ass-hole and rubbed hard, causing her to twitch when his fingers touched the inner pink. Finally, he gripped her hips and hurled her sideways to the bed. She lay, gasping and jerking and pleading for his cock and he laughed.
"Giacomo, my God, please-"
He heard her anguish and it somehow thrilled him more than the prospect of breaching her cunt or back hole with his cock. He stood up and found his belt, the broad black strip like a flat snake in his hands. He struck her once, not to cut and welt, but to hear the crack of heavy hide on her tender buttocks.
Maria jerked, gasped and squirmed, then she began to fuck at nothing, her hips describing lewd undulations and writhing rolls as if a monster prick had invaded her hungry cunt.
He struck her again and she rolled, belly down on the bed. Her back arched to force her cunt to the embroidered spread and she fucked to the cushiony surface with furious demand. It was agreeably obvious to Giacomo that he had reduced his aunt to the level of a rutting animal and the power of his cruelty was like an elixir. He struck her ass again and small screams of unbearable ecstasy sputtered from her lips.
Avid now, he went to her buffet and picked up a tall, slim decanter of aromatic water. The sparkling container was cut sharply by Bavarian craftsmen, the spiral grinds producing diamonds and small stars. The stopper was long and elliptical with even finer grooves and a very sharp point. In his hand, the decanter seemed almost like a weapon, and when he returned, he weighed it, deciding where it should be nested.
Then he seized one of Maria's ankles and flipped her to her back, she still fucked up at nothing, her cunt an open, gasping gash of pumping scarlet. She lay, arms akimbo, legs spread in hunching and with a chuckle of glee, Giacomo rammed the cut glass decanter into her cunt as far as her flesh would permit.
Maria screamed, a long high cry of excruciating agony, then she stiffened and began to vibrate in colossal orgasm. While she jerked with brutally released passion, he seized a double handful of her shining black hair and shot his sperm into the nest in massive, gushing relief. Spew after spew clouded the ebony strands until they became gray with the slimy jism, and with the fading of his cum, he wiped the soiled hair down over her face and crammed the soaked strands in her gasping mouth.
Her hands came up, formed claws, but neither sought to clear her mouth nor remove the jagged, inhuman shape from her cunt. While he dressed, she twisted and convulsed, and he was at the door of her room when she wiped her hair away and came to one elbow. By then, her cunt had half expelled the decanter and it hung between her thighs like a giant jewel.
"No, no! Giacomo! Do not go do not leave me yet! More, I need more a knife, a whip, your fist, my love!" she screamed.
"Another time, zia mia," he laughed. "For we have just begun to know each other, have we not?"
She gasped and let her chin settle slowly to her chest. "Dio mia," she murmured. "Why did you make me wait so long?"
CHAPTER SIX
Helena stared at the exquisite gold jewel case, its fine porcelain panels, then at the letter from Guiseppe. Panic like she had never known before gripped her. It was a lovely letter, filled with endless avowals of his love and devotion, and a brief resume of his political involvements in Vicenza. Her panic came, when she viewed a single line, "pressing matters here demand my presence for at least three more days, my love, and I shall resent each day because it lengthens the nearly unbearable separation we have suffered."
"No, no, you must come back you must save me!" she whispered aloud. Then she rested her forehead in her nervous hand and tried not to think of her misery.
Misery now, raving ecstasy in the mornings. A pattern of delicious perversity she had not seen develop, did not understand and could not now avoid. Many times a day for three days, Helena had tried to remember how it had started and passed the physical need she'd had on the evening Calina had found her tied to the bed, her rump lashed and her ass-hole torn from Guiseppe's furious lust, she could not recall having felt one single sexual urge toward her maid, nor had she ever, in her entire life, dreamed even one dream of making love, or having love made to her by another woman. Because, she thought, it is not love. It is sensation, as excruciating to her mind as it was to her body. She knew it was vile, evil and against every tenet of the Church and the traditions of her Austrian upbringing, but even as she sat and reviled herself, her anus tingled in memory of the hairbrush handle, and her cunt ached for the hot press and nibble of Calina's lips.
More devastating to Helena was the fact that she could not obscure the image of Calina's nakedness, nor the strange thrills she experienced with her hands and mouth roving greedily over the peasant girl's lush body. Hot flesh, pliable, responsive and lewdly beautiful.
Helena wailed. Without Guiseppe, she was lost because no matter how she scolded and admonished herself, the first touch of Calina's fingers, the first sight of her passion plump breasts or her thickly-haired crotch tumbled all of Helena's good intentions into a heap of trembling submissions.
She needed Guiseppe's big cock, his strong body and his maleness. She needed to be petted and adored, then fucked with massive power, in the mouth, in her cunt and up her back hole, because, she believed, that unless Guiseppe took her completely and constantly, she would think again of Calina. She needed to be remade into a woman, with blows and cursing, perhaps, but with totality.
She had thought of requesting another private maid, but two fears had sealed her lips. Not only had Helena plunged into a weird world of illicit passion, but in doing so, she had exposed her passion and perversity to a simple Italian peasant girl. Her second fear was that she could not do without the hairbrush, the hot lips and the insane pleasures of their morning episodes. At least, unless Guiseppe were there to satiate the deep inner needs Helena had so rapidly developed. "at least three more days-" which might mean five or six days.
Thought of even three more days made the breath choke in Helena's throat. She tossed Guiseppe's letter aside and stood up, letting her hands run smoothly over her silk-veiled tits, feeling of the nipples, the solid flesh under the outer softness. The private caress caused a moistness between her legs and she rolled the inner shapes of her belly, finishing the pleasant convulsion with a lewd hunch. Her buttocks squeezed together and made a tight form with a small, tantalizing emptiness between.
Hating herself for what she wanted to do, Helena opened her gown and exposed her pulsating vagina, the lips puffed, slightly parted and rapidly becoming wet with uncontrolled need. She opened herself with two forefingers, laying the labia back so her clitoris showed as a narrow line of gristly fire, cleft at the lower extremity to spread and merge with the firm fat lobes of her vulva aperture.
Weeping with self-revulsion, Helena began to rub and caress her cunt, adding to the slow pressure of her fingers the rolling undulations that were better fitted to meet the thrust and lunge of a man's groin than her own sterile touches. She adored her body, the strain of her milk white thighs, the out and down curve of her heaving belly and the raw gaping pinks of her quaking cunt.
Her breathing speeded, her eyes closed slowly and she wetted her lips with a nervous fluttering tongue. She shuffled her slippered feet well apart as if to open her body for some mystic prick, some huge column of throbbing, pushing flesh, and as she dreamed of its crushing into her empty cunt, the need became so great she felt like screaming. So parted, her thighs became corded and taut. The cheeks of her rolling ass snapped and bobbed, so violent had become the desire to fuck, the need to free her womb of the emptiness.
As her tensions mounted, her anguish increased with equal speed, and she wailed with frustration. She glanced at the dresser where the hairbrush lay but the long ivory handle seemed too slim, too slick and far too lifeless. Caught then between frenzied need and the final moments of masturbation, Helena shuddered and whipped and groaned with passion. Her orgasm was hard and short, and to accent the ecstasy, her head bowed and she watched the manner of her cum, taking new thrill from the small movements of her vulvar opening and the quiver of her clitoris. Exhausted by her own fury, she sank back in the chair, her dizziness slowly receding as her momentarily satiated nerves relaxed.
Three mornings with Calina, three afternoons by herself, and three lonely depressing nights. "Oh, God, Guiseppe, come home to me!" she cried.
* * *
Giacomo frowned at Maria, not at all liking the tale his aunt had recounted. "And it appeared to you that she entered into this self-caress because of my brother's letter?"
"It seemed so, Giacomo," the reply came. "She looked first at the jewel case, then reread the letter. Suddenly she hurled the letter aside and stood up. It went on then, for nearly thirty minutes. I watched, of course. It made me very passionate, watching, Giacomo!"
He paid no attention to the way in which she squirmed and edged closer to his slouch in the leather swing chair. He had heard the plea in her voice and another time, he might have enjoyed toying with her responsive charms; at the moment, he was trying to read his sister-in-law's mind through several stone walls. He couldn't believe the passionate Austrian girl had been moved to masturbation by mere words from his inept brother.
She had, that morning, completely ignored her marriage vows and played at cunt sucking and ass-hole abusing with Calina. The act of standing in front of a mirror and finger-diddling herself into a gasping orgasm could be explained she was young, sensitive and without a husband at the moment, but when allied with her perversity involving the lush and equally passionate Calina, the entire scope of Helena's private sexuality carried some undertone Giacomo could not identify. But for some reason he could not name, thoughts of Helena excited him greatly. She was an enigma, and few women frustrated him.
As his brother's wife, Giacomo could hardly enter her chambers and rape her; if he had Toli bring her to the torture chambers in the cellar, her death would be an eventual necessity and this would bring both his brother's wrath and the Austrians, who were the authorities in Venetia, the conquering militants. And something burned within Giacomo's belly that made the thought of destroying that beauty a repulsive thing at least until he tired of her. His prick jerked. There was a better, more satisfying way and he intended to find it. He looked at his aunt.
"The years between my deceased Uncle Madero's demise and now," he said. "I'm sure that in some niche about your rooms, zia mia, you have hidden some device more effective than the fingers I found you using yesterday morning. Am I correct?"
Her eyes widened. "I know not of what you speak, Giacomo."
"Go get it, Maria," was all he said then.
Maria turned away, her lightly clad body vibrating through the cloth, her head back as if she were fighting some huge battle between her dignity and her private passions.
Then she turned. "Some device," she murmured. "Some article of soothing-the difference, perhaps, between widowhood's endless hours of anguish and frustration and some measure of satisfaction. How did you know, Giacomo?"
He laughed. "One lives, one reads, and one speculates. It seems probable that my dear sister-in-law, who is but seventeen and newly introduced to the joys of fucking, could satisfy her passions with a finger or the handle of a hairbrush, my dear aunt. But it does not seem probable that a woman of your early experience and intense passions could content herself with fingers, nor a device as unsculptured and inadequate as a hairbrush handle! Go get it, zia mia, for I have an idea that intrigues me greatly!"
She flushed, and with no further words, departed his chambers to return in a minute or so, more flushed, more nervous and obviously more excited. From under a shawl, she took a more complicated device than he had imagined it could have been.
At first glance, it appeared to be a short topped boot, laced in the French style, with a Eugenie heel. It broke from the latest international styles because stitched to the back of the boot heel was a long thick column of leather, a tube obviously stuffed with some light but firm material. The end of the dildo was swollen by an extra wrap of heavy bull hide, somewhat coneshaped, with bold stiching to correspond, Giacomo thought, to the coronal ridge of a giant's prick.
The false cock was nearly thirty centimeters long and as thick as Maria's wrist. It was black, shining from age and oil, and at least a decade of his aunt's cunt juices. He grinned and extended his hand. Knowing well the weight and feel of his own cock, he was surprised at the life-like texture and balance of the huge phallic form. That she had gone to great lengths to get it made was apparent in the quality and evenness of the stitching. There was no attempt to fabricate false balls, nor was there any semblance of a handle just a long stiff form, so brutal in its girth and solidity as to excite his sense of the obscene and make him understand the depths of his aunt's desires. Holding it up, he saw how the boot, when worn, would possess a massive spur, more purposeful than the razor sharp appendages the Spaniards tied to the feet of their fighting cocks.
"But beautiful, zia mia! Put it on. I would see the whole of this!"
"Please, no, Giacomo-"
He tossed the shoe and its huge addition to the floor in front of her. "Strip first," he said. "The intricacies of the female mind intrigue me!"
"Giacomo, no! Oh, I am so ashamed! It was only a substitute in my hours of need!"
"Strip, my aunt, and we shall see!"
Her look of pain faded as his enthusiasm became obvious. Now she unfastened small ties and slowly shrugged out of her dress. The gown fell from her smoothly rounded shoulders, exposing her huge soft tits with their black centers and slightly veined contours. He had some quick wonder about how she had looked at fifteen or twenty. Even now, her skin was flawless and tight, glowing in tawny sheens. Her unchildish belly was curved with just the proper maturity and once more, he admired her broadly bushed groin and the moist peeking of her cunt lips in the plush juncture of thighs and torso. Naked, she stepped free of her fallen gown and shook her right foot to dislodge the slipper. The act quivered her body, set in motion the cheeks of her bounteous ass and the soft inner rounds of her thighs.
Before him then, she went to one knee and with experienced fingers, adjusted the boot to her bare foot. There was an inner strap he had not noticed and when she buckled this, the lazy dildo raised its stitched leather head and hung in a nearly human arc out under her bent ass. He chuckled. Even in that position, the potential of the device was obvious. She needed only to raise the leather cock and place it to her cunt or back hole, then tilt back to make the penetration deep and snug. But she stood up, turning so he could appreciate the erotic relationship between the gigantic dildo and her quivering body.
"Your favorite pleasure, zia mia," he husked. "I will see!"
She stepped to his bed, the leather cock waving and bobbing. Giacomo stood up and followed her, and when she hesitated, embarrassed by his curiosity, he patted her ass and pushed her onto the bed. She lay on her left hip, her broadly cleft rump turned to Giacomo. She drew up her right leg and with a groping hand, found the shape of the dildo.
He watched her caress it as if it had been of hot flesh and pulsing blood. With her head propped on the palm of her left hand, Maria half closed her eyes and he was sure she had suddenly reverted to some private heaven developed over the years to heighten the erotic fantasy of her self abuse. He watched the muscles of her leg tighten and she guided the big leather club to her hairy crotch.
There was a moment of fondling and finding, then her leg bent even sharper and the dildo slid straight up and into her abruptly opened cunt. She jerked and moaned, and her eyes closed completely. The thick black column oozed slowly in and in and Giacomo's eyes opened in surprise at the dimension she accepted. The heel of the boot almost touched the fringe of black hair growing around her cunt. Imbedded, the leather shaped the purplish flesh of her vulva into a round, seeming looseness, but when she activated the device with her leg, the inner labia pulled outward, like reluctant lips and he could see that they were not loose.
Fascinated by the lewd sight, he suddenly discovered that his cock was hard and straining to arise in his trousers. More, he felt a peculiar jealousy, a resentment of the sensuous calm that had come over Maria the instant the false cock had snugged into her quivering body. Only yesterday she had pleaded and wept for his caresses and now she lay, working her strong leg in slow, smooth levering and the huge black prick, gleaming with her aroused juices, slipped in and out with nearly human actions.
He unbelted his trousers and let them slide down around his boot tops. His prick leaped up and out, straining in relief and eagerness.
Leaning forward, Giacomo put his hand to the dildo, feeling its wetness and weight, and the slight warmness it had acquired in only a few seconds of coursing. He tested the kiss of Maria's cunt with his fingertips, and his own prick jerked impatiently. Maria's eyes opened, and she moaned at sight of his flesh, aimed by his bending at the heave of her belly. Her hand went to it quickly, firmly, caressively. Her touch was like fire to Giacomo, and he hunched there, deciding what to do while his aunt frigged him in rhythm to the steady working of her leg. The dildo made soft wet sounds now, pistoning in her oozing quim as if it could sense the building ecstasy that was beginning to roll her hips and add urging to the slip and ram of the leather prick.
Suddenly, Giacomo wanted to hurt her, to wrench her back from the inhuman morass of ecstasy her obscene self-manipulations seemed to have created. Her fingers around his prick, sliding the foreskin with lazy firmness were oddly impersonal; he thought that she would have done the same for any cock presented within her reach. He moved his hand and seized her ankle and with all his strength, rammed the long leather cock into her cunt until the heel of the attached boot smashed to her vulva. Maria screamed, coming alive with anguished writhing. He held the dildo in, his entire being thrilled by the agony of what he did.
"Dio mia, no, no!" Maria screamed, trying to strain against his grip on her ankle. "Giacomo, no, you are-"
Now he chose to activate the dildo in his own fashion. He began to lever her leg, deep in, until she wailed and groaned, as far out as the leather would extend without losing its seat in her paining flesh. He waved her leg, distorting her cunt to each side, creating the same sounds a horse's hoof made in deep mud, opening and stretching her vagina until it seemed large enough for a tree trunk. He held her, fighting the twist and kick of her leg, reveling in the contortions of her tortured body. Her hand had left his prick and was now clutching his wrist, and the muscles of his belly stood out in rippling strain as he fucked at the air, his feverish eyes supplying all the stimulus he needed in his erotic delight of her agonies.
Abruptly, he was at the end of building. He jerked the dildo from her cunt and threw her leg. At the same moment, he flipped her lush body and fell on her heaving tits, his prick nesting between them and rising rigidly to her face. As caught as he in the grip of unsatiated lust, Maria closed her mouth over the blood-filled head of his prick, and as she formed her tongue and cheeks around the massive knob, he stiffened and let his orgasm burst free in furious i spending.
He felt her try to swallow his gushing jism but his cock restricted her throat and his sperm gushed out of her working mouth, running in thick viscous streams over her chin and down onto her corded throat. He fucked hard but briefly into her mouth, then lay panting, savoring her struggle to contain his cock and diminishing jism and still breathe.
* * *
Never in her wildest dreams had Maria ever believed Giacomo could love her; he was not a man who loved and she was old enough to be his mother. While he lay on his back and panted with relaxing, Maria smeared his jism over her tits and throat, ignoring the pain he had left in her belly with the gigantic dildo. She was strangely happy. She had been mistreated, wounded inwardly and degraded by his sperm, but she was no longer alone. She moved her right leg, feeling the weight of the dildo, for years her companion and her delight, filling her cunt with bulk when it ached for filling, dulling her loneliness and pacifying her turbulent emotions.
She turned her head and adored Giacomo's handsome profile. Further down his muscular torso, his cock lay in massive resting, the head swollen so the still dribbling eye seemed reluctant to release the gray-white cream of his virility. Since yesterday, they had been passionate together twice; there would come a time, she thought, when he would weary of his cruelties and fuck her as she wanted to be fucked. For the moment, it was almost enough for Maria to lie at his side, her mouth tingling with the flavor of his musk, her body hurting with the ruthlessness of his strange passions.
"What am I to do, dear Giacomo?" she asked, twisting so her lips could seek the sweat-damp hair of his armpit. He raised his arm a little farther and she licked at the strongly scented hair, quivering with instantly returned passion for whatever he would offer her.
"Oh." Giacomo inhaled deeply and opened his eyes. "What are you to do? My letter from Guiseppe suggests that he will return from Vicenza in three or four days. I have that long to reduce his wife to a state of total frenzy for a real man, zia mia." He raised and Maria thrilled to his palm on her ass, smoothing down her trembling leg until it came to the dildo thrusting from her single boot. "Your own devious nature will find a way to assist my sister-in-law to a state of proper confusion for a female of her age."
"You are asking me, who loves you with all the fire a woman can possess, to help you seduce the child, dear Giacomo?" Maria asked, letting her lips creep up to suck at his chest tips, her cheek rubbing the coarse hair of his huge chest. "Why do you not just take her, as you have taken a hundred girls in the past ten years?"
He chuckled. "Milanesa whore," he murmured. "Do you have nothing but a greedy cunt and a hollow throat, and the dullness to believe I have not thought of this? And what of Guiseppe? Must I spit my brother on my rapier to obtain the delights of his delicate moglie? No, dear Maria. Few fancies come to me, and Helena is one of these few. For once, I wish a female of acceptable age to come to me! This desire of mine does not compare with the eagerness of old women, nor village cunt, already worn to frazzles by drunken fathers. I vision sweet Helena, her Austrian haughtiness destroyed, pleading for my prick, my whip and perhaps, my shit in her mouth, while my screeching brother seeks the solace of a priest! You will help me with my conquest, I am sure!"
"Will you fuck me properly if I concede?" Maria asked.
"What is properly, my aunt?"
Maria signed at his badly veiled humor. "Will you also permit me to watch your victory?" she asked in a hushed voice. "That I may writhe and moan and dream that the passion you expend in her pale cunt is being spent in mine, dear Giacomo?"
He turned his face to hers. "Would you like that, perverse bitch?"
Maria sighed. "You have never been a widow of middle years, animal nephew! Nor have you ever loved! I pray to God that before your cock has wilted for the final time, that you cry need and pound upon a firmly bolted door'. In my grave, I shall turn over and raise my body to you, dear Giacomo, and live again!"
He half rolled to her and his hand slid down her back to the high full rounds of her ass. His finger pushed between the nates and the strong tip found her anus, pressing, rubbing, sending incredible shivering the length of her lush body. But he did not try to enter the rubbery circlet and Maria knew that he sought only to arouse and tease her. She lay trembling, trying desperately to have orgasm under his meager offering.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Because her life had been lived at a level considerably above the matters and menaces of a household, Helena observed the comings and goings of Dromeda's people as if the castle and its management were completely apart from her world. It seemed apparent that many sections of the stone structure were unoccupied, and her own problems sufficed to provide a barrier for any curiosity she might have had. But she found it impossible to sit, either at the useless needlework which was supposed to be a lady's pastime, or to read from the boring and uninformative books in the castle library. She had no talent for the clavichord nor for the several fine violins in the music chamber.
To ease the constant tingle between her legs and the persistent pulse in her breasts, she strolled, following the directions Calina had given her. There were wide halls and narrow corridors, with balconies and alcoves at unpredictable intervals.
She was standing on one of the balconies, listlessly peering out over the green world below the castle bulwarks when a sound behind her caused Helena to turn.
"Ah, my dear Helena!" Maria exclaimed. "I had been wondering where you spent your leisure time. This has always been a favorite view of mine, too, especially at this late evening hour when the sun casts such long dark shadows over the valley. Though I doubt, really, that such a natural melancholy is appropriate viewing for a bride, suddenly deprived of her new husband!"
"It is a bit lonely," Helena admitted. "But there is so little else to do, Aunt Maria."
The older woman moved close, her eyes flashing with some private concept. She covered Helena's hand on the stone parapet. "Dear Helena, I know so little about your tastes and inclinations, I hesitate to speak. But this evening, there is a bit of diversion to be seen. I know it is not proper for a lady to be interested in low displays, but I confess to a secret pleasure in observing from a distance the more violent aspects of life. This il giovedi. At six o'clock, each fifth day of the week, the servants are all gathered in the postern yard, and punishment for their various misdeeds and slackings is administered. By Giacomo. It is often quite exhilarating to see!"
"Punishment?"
"Yes. It is the only way to keep the contadinos alert. And this evening it should be particularly exciting, dear Helena. Two of the cucina wenches were caught at play with a stable lad! Imagine! For their transgressions, they will be confessed and exorcized by the village prete, then they will be tied to the whipping rack and Giacomo will lash them into physical repentance and they will be hurled through the postem gate to make their way off of Dromeda land. Does that not sound like some diversion from the dullness of our existence?"
Helena frowned, but as she considered what Maria had said, a peculiar tension gathered just below her chest. "The stable lad," she murmured. "Will he too be whipped?"
Maria laughed and closed a friendly arm around Helena's slim shoulders. It was a warm intimate pressure and another tension occurred, drawing Helena's thighs into solid columns upon which her private organs perched as if separate from the rest of her body.
"No, dear. In Italy, a man is not responsible if he succumbs to the wiles of a lewd woman. In this case, there were two of them! I understand from the man who found them that they had the poor lad stretched out on a pallet, one astraddle his face, the other his hips! Oh, they were vile, I'm sure! Just as I am sure dear Giacomo will make them sorry for their foul deeds! He handles a whip with such elegance and flair! Would you like to come with me and watch? No one can see us, of course. There is a little used terrace that opens above the kitchen courtyard. Please come, dear Helena! I have always watched alone it will be an extra pleasure to share the violent scene with you!"
"I have never seen a woman whipped," Helena said. "Do they scream much, Aunt Maria?"
Again came the impulsive hug. "Just enough, dear one. Just enough to make a good woman delight in her virtues and to remind the peasant girls of what they can expect if they do not mind their ways!"
"I I will try to watch if you desire my company, Aunt Maria."
"Oh, I do, I do! Come. The judgments have begun but the punishments for the lewd women will be at the last."
And suddenly, Helena was eager to witness the scourging of the two women by Giacomo, who looked exactly like Guiseppe and, " handles the whip with such elegance and flair!"
Maybe, she thought, sight of bare flesh being turned to raw welts while the screams of agony pour from the throat of the whipped would in some way, apply to herself. Whatever the two women had done with the stable boy, it could not have been worse than what she did with Calina and would do again unless some drastic shock could help her control her emotions. And sensations.
As she followed Maria, she could not keep her eyes off of the woman's swinging rump and her square plump back. It seemed to Helena that she could see entirely through Maria's gown, and her palms tingled with a desire to feel of the rolling flesh. She stepped a bit faster so she could catch the line of Maria's huge tits out of the corner of her eye. The boldly jiggling contours sent thrills of inexplicable kinds through Helena's body. Her cunt wept and she could feel the moisture as it soaked into the silken hairs around her pussy. She felt sticky between the buttocks and her breath came hot over her tongue and very dry lips.
Then they were through a corridor and another door, and Helena found they were standing on a small balcony, peering not over a stone balustrade but through the roundly carved balusters into a square yard below. There were perhaps fifty peasants, men with caps in hand, shuffling their feet restlessly, women with shawls into which they were crying or laughing it was impossible to tell.
These servants were gathered around a broad clear space. Not entirely clear, she saw. Hanging by their wrists from a crossbar supported by two stout posts were the erring women. Both were naked to the waistbands of their faded and tattered skirts. Their tits hung high and outward from the stretch of their arms and bodies. In front of them was a priest, reading from his Book. He wore the full vestments of the Confessional.
Standing to one side was Giacomo Galetia Dromeda, wearing his usual garb of swagger trousers, calf-high boots and an open-throated silken shirt. In one hand he held the thick butt of a long, triple lashed whip. In the other, he carried a brightly hued kerchief which he used to dry his mouth while the prete read his exorcisms to the hapless women. The watching servants crossed themselves at certain intervals, a few knelt and mumbled prayers.
Helena wanted to scream, her sudden excitement so violent she could hardly stand. When Maria's arm again looped strongly around her shoulders, Helena leaned into the embrace to save her sagging knees.
* * *
The breath froze in Helena's throat as the whip whistled. Her own back pained as the leather cracked across both distended backs, drawing lash tip blood from one and leaving a long red welt on the other. The screams that sprang from the two women were high and ripping, and before their first anguish had faded, the whip shrieked through the air and cut fresh furrows. The hanging bodies swung and kicked, toes unable to touch the courtyard dirt.
A roar of unidentifiable emotion arose from the watching peasants. Some women turned their heads away as the blood oozed from the lacerated flesh and trickled down to soak into the already soiled skirts. A third and fourth blow of the whip sent spatters of red into the air, and drove fresh cries from the girls, as if their vocal chords had just learned to vibrate as massively as their flesh was being flayed. At each lick, the loose cascades of ebony hair jerked, and a few strands were inadvertently caught by the sticky, gushing blood.
Now Giacomo turned, using back strokes so the girl who had suffered the lash knew only the harder weave of the whip's mid-length while the less bloody back began to bleed from the bite of the snapping tips.
Helena's eyes burned with staring, her body seemed to feel and live each terrible stroke. She cringed in Maria's embrace, caught between emotions so violent she could not separate them, and she felt her body, from toe to head, flushing in waves of terror and delight. Moans burbled through her hot dry lips, her breath hissed in her throat. A hundred thoughts whipped through her mind; the girls were young, beautiful in a carnal way, their taut tits standing out now as if freshly caressed by a tender lover. Their ribs showed corners as their bellies heaved with agony and strain. Soft tawny flesh, being cut to ribbons, hot blood leaking from ripped tissues, agonies a thousand times too great to associate with any sin they could have committed. Helena's blood sang with pity, then pulsed with obscene glee as the whip sliced new lines of open red.
Then she looked at Giacomo and her spine jerked in response. He seemed to be lying back in an easy stance, his huge body moving like a strong branch in a summer breeze. Between blows, which he spaced as if to let the previous one deliver its full impact, he wiped his face with the brilliant kerchief. He was suddenly beautiful to Helena, despite her revulsion for the havoc he was wreaking on the helpless girls. Now she saw him step sideways, as if dancing in a fine Italian ballroom. The whip changed its blur, curling now to creep around the suffering bodies.
A gasp of shock escaped Helena's mouth as the whip became selective. No longer did it lash both swinging bodies. It attacked one at a time, cutting short deep marks in the unprotected, and as yet, unmarked bellies. The first slices were low; plowing scarlet furrows over what had once been a softly curving abdomen, now stretched into convex strain. The screams were faint now, as if skin and nerves had lost their ability to feel pain. The heads of both girls sagged forward, chin hard to chest bones. No longer did their legs twist and kick and only small involuntary jerks reward the lash.
Helena watched Giacomo's artistry; the belly cuts were slowly creeping up, now only a hand-breadth below the quivering globes of the petulant breasts. A fresh horror chilled Helena as she anticipated the inhuman agonies the girls must suffer if Giacomo chose to rip their young, tight tits.
"Oh, God, no, no!" she husked and tried to close her eyes. They only blinked because in contrast to her revulsion, some fierce inner need demanded that she look.
"It is all right, my dear," Maria's voice came from above her ear. "They are foul creatures and deserve dear Giacomo's most acute attentions! See, now, see!"
And Helena saw. Giacomo stepped back a bit, let the whip coil and writhe on the dirt, then with a huge contraction of his right arm, sent the whip screaming out. The girl, hanging as if dead, did a furious convulsing jerk as the nipple of her right tit disappeared. Instantly the blood fountained out of the half destroyed globe of frayed flesh. Her strength exhausted, she abruptly sagged. The whip again went out like the accurate and deadly tongue of a giant snake. The other girl shrieked as her left nipple faded into shredded tissue and splattered somewhere on the dirt. But her shriek was the full extent of her protests. She was too weak, too debilitated to kick or twist.
Helena thought surely both girls must be dead or dying. They hung like rags, bloody rags from seemingly disjointed bones.
"Enough, enough!" she wailed, and discovered that no sound came from her throat. She stared at the peasants, milling now, few watching, several unable to not watch as the whip continued its ruthless, deadly work.
The priest stood like a straight black angel of doom, lips moving in prayer, his eyes narrowed to hard slits of theocratic approval. For a moment, Helena thought she was looking at the black pit of Hell. The lowering sun cast long black shadows over the courtyard, from which rose the guttural rumble of sympathetic throats. Death seemed to be settling with massive wings; only Giacomo was animated, his tireless arm and eager whip continuing their dual efforts to destroy.
Both women were titless now, four fountains of scarlet dripped from the shredded globes to the blood spattered dirt. Helena panted with constricted lungs, her body seemed numb with vicarious agony.
Then as she watched, a subtle change occurred in her mind. She saw the peasants as silly chickens, the priest as a thoughtless ghoul. The hanging bodies no longer represented women, no longer counted. They were simply slabs of nerve and flesh, properly suffering, not because of what they might have done but because agony and blood were abruptly beautiful, and the lithe man hurling the blood-soaked whip was somehow God.
She thought of the whip as a long, delicious prick, darting, curling, penetrating the dangling passions of the two women. Lucky women, to be so soundly fucked and outraged, to know the lust of God and the fulfillment of his furies. Feeling came back to Helena with a rush. She discovered that she had left Maria's arm and was standing, hands braced to the stone balustrade. Her feet were well apart and her hips rolled and hunched, fucking at the image of a cock so huge and ramming it seemed to burst her belly. Her upper hp seemed as curled as the labia of her seeking cunt and she found herself humming pleas to Giacomo not to stop his sweetly brutal rape of the sagged bodies.
"Don't die, don't die!" she rasped from a dry throat. "Stay alive and suffer his love! Oh God, cut them, cut them!"
And then she cringed with fright. Down below, Giacomo had coiled his whip prick. He was standing back, a crooked smile of victory and satiation on his handsome face. Two peasants at each body were knifing bonds and lifting the bloody globs. Other peasants now gathered, pointing, muttering, nodding. The priest was holding a silver cross high above his head, his face a gray mask in the dying daylight.
"No, no!" Helena pleaded, but the joy was done, the prick exhausted, the lust spent. She watched them open the postern, and through its stone casing, she saw how they laid the two bloody bodies on the cart. As the driver clucked and flipped his switch, the cart moved from sight, and Helena wept.
"Come, my dear Helena," Maria said, again closing her strong warm arm around Helena's trembling shoulders. "You are exhausted from the ordeal. It is over now and I will accompany you to your chambers and see that you are soothed."
Helena nodded. Her crotch was soaked. Her womb thumped with boiling flame. All her mind could see was blood and flesh, and all her ears could hear were the thrilling screams, the mortal cries, like a woman being fucked to death in the arms of a master lover. Not, she thought, a hasty lunging lout like Guiseppe, but a God like Giacomo, who used eternity to fuck a woman to death with his long, cracking cock.
* * *
Helena sat on the chaise, sipping the Spanish tea laced with French brandy. Her body seemed sucked of every juice, her back was tired and her arms were very heavy. She looked at Maria, kneeling at her knee, smiling softly and knowingly, as if she understood the frenzy that had left Helena in such a state of weariness. Not weariness because her cunt still quaked and her tits ached with need. The red veil had lifted from her eyes but the fire still burned in her blood.
"I felt so-strange, Aunt Maria," she murmured. "It was at once the most hideous sight I've ever seen, and perversely beautiful, at the same time! Oh, I wish you had not implored me to accompany you! Did it not affect you as it did me, dear Maria?"
"Perhaps. It is difficult to say what affects women, Helena. I now feel great affection, great sympathy for you, yet I can not say it is a maternal feeling, nor does it have anything to do with pity. It is, perhaps, that I have done so long without personal attentions that I imagine how you feel without Guiseppe, and from your words as you watched Giacomo administer Dromeda justice, I suspect that you are incredibly sensitive to emotional upheaval as I am too! But for me, there is one more involvement. I find you beautiful and desirable, and some segment of my being wants to love you over and above my duty as your husband's aunt. Do you understand what I have said, my niece."
"N-no."
"Then I must say it differently, perhaps with less obscurity! I am not perverted, dear Helena, but I am a widow, responsible for the interior finesse of il Castello di Dromeda. By family tradition, I may not marry again unless it is politically advisable! But I am a red-blooded, sensitive and passionate woman." Maria leaned back and passed her palms up her body, letting them curve out and around the melon shapes of her velvet garbed tits. "Together, we have witnessed a most exciting event I confess that I am sexually stimulated and personally forlorn! I sense in you an empathy, a similar need, and as a woman of the world, I beg you not to think evil of me if I ask for your succor in this moment of distress! I want you to love me, dear Helena!"
Still not recovered from the earlier experience of watching two delectable bodies cut to bloody ribbons, the shock of Maria's bold words was like a hammer blow to her belly. Helena opened her mouth to cry out, or protest, or to demand that Maria leave, then she saw the pulse at the smooth base of Maria's throat, and she found new beauty in the tawny skin, swelling to beginning mounds at the neck of her velvet gown. She looked deeply into Maria's eyes and some inner fire darted out to meet her own gaze. With a gasp of understanding, Helena leaned forward into Maria's arms. She felt the hot full lips on her neck and the softness was disturbingly thrilling.
"You must love me greatly to say such a thing," Helena murmured.
"Greatly! But my need is so great I would risk any embarrassment, any condemnation, dear Helena!"
Helena quivered, her mind and body now dedicated to the adventure Maria had proposed, her desires building like an avalanche. "But, how is this possible, my aunt? How may I help you? I am not a man!"
Maria's laughter was softly wise. "That, you are certainly not! You are sweet, delicious woman. A beautiful child, really, with such passions burning in your body that I tremble at their possibilities! Ah, Helena, we can mean so much to each other, be of such aid in difficult times! If you trust me, my darling, we may both find passion's Olympus, and it will be a secret we will share with no one in this world!"
Suddenly burning with eagerness, Helena kissed the beautiful matron. Calina had already crushed her sense of restraint; what Maria offered was not some illicit adventure with a peasant maid, but a private passion, spent with a woman of the world who seemed to know exactly how she felt and what to do about it.
"I will love you, dear Maria, but you must show me how!"
"My God, my God!" Maria husked. "Then I beg of you, come with me now to my apartment. There, we will talk and grow to know each other, without the aura of the marriage bed to remind us that we are merely two women, seeking to find happiness as best we may. Will you come with me, Helena?"
So for the second time that day, her body writhing inwardly with sustained excitement, Helena followed Maria's swinging rump, her own throbbing with perverse demand. The shock of Maria's proposal was now faded, and Helena thought of carnal things she desired to try. Perhaps, she thought, they might even whip each other some, with a lash less damaging than the one God had used to chastise the erring servants.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Once inside Maria's expansive appartamento, Helena was stricken with a monumental fear that seemed to clear her head of its whirling. They had talked of love a strange word between a seventeen-year-old bride and her maternal aunt whom she had known only a very few days.
Now Helena could not even remember how the term had come to be mentioned; her excitement over the brutal lashing of the two women had been unreasonable, evil by any standard she could use as a measuring stick, and this excitement, coupled with her personal anguish of body and mind had seemed to accept Maria's proposal in a way in which it had obviously not been intended. But there had been that moment of sensuous display during which Maria had knelt before her and delineated her big breasts with trembling palms. At the moment it had seemed to mean far more to Helena than it did in memory.
With a flush of guilt, Helena realized that she had interpreted words and gestures by Maria as she might have had it been Calina. In the grip of furious emotions she had very nearly revealed her perverse desires and needs. Now she shuddered and moved to the chair Maria indicated, her eyes wandering about the lovely chamber with all the appreciation of a high-born aristocrat.
"The accoutrements are Milanese," Maria said, noting Helena's interest. "Only in these chambers do I feel completely at ease, my dear. Small enough compensation for having left my home these many years. Do you often think of Vienna, Helena?"
"A few times," Helena replied, slightly relaxed by Maria's casual warmth. "But I have spent most of my life in Venice since my father became important in the political areas. Perhaps later, Guiseppe will permit me my own sitting rooms and I shall have a few of my personal things brought to Dromeda."
Maria poured two thin-stemmed goblets full of red wine and brought one to Helena. Standing above her, she smiled softly. "Yes. One needs warmth and friendliness in these stone piles. Guiseppe will be busy at the concerns of the castle and the vineyards many days at a time and like now, he is considerably concerned with the establishment of a sound government in the Vicenza districts. Perhaps in my wisdom of these matters lay my plea to you that we become fast friends. Are you comfortable with me, Helena?"
Abruptly, Helena was comfortable and she said so.
"I am delighted, my dear! Come, I will show you the rest of my private hideaway!" invited Maria.
Warming as her fears receded, Helena rose and again received the strong arm about her shoulders as they went through a draped arch into what was obviously Maria's bedchamber. It was not what Helena had expected.
There was the usual big four posted bed with a heavily tasseled canopy, several buffets and an array of thickly upholstered chairs. The walls were covered with a strange mixture of mirrors in broad gilt frames and fine oil paintings. What surprised Helena was the daring motifs of the oils. There were several beautifully rendered nudes, all of the same lush young woman. She was painfully beautiful and her skin was nearly blinding in its luster. In contrast, she had long black hair and extremely vivid tints at breast and groin. There had been no attempt to hide the rolling fullness of her breasts nor the intimacies of her crotch. And there had been a definite attempt to give each scene a personal voluptuousness, a feeling of spying upon an exotic woman whose nature was obviously that of a prime sensualist.
Then Helena turned and stared at her companion. Her mouth opened in a gasp and she raised one hand to point at the most revealing painting.
"Yes, my dear," Maria said with a throaty laugh. "They are all of me. My husband would have someday been a renowned painter had he lived. Few people have ever seen these I cherish them, as an appreciative widow and as a vain female! Was I not beautiful?"
"Oh, you still are, Maria!" Helena exclaimed, quivering as the impact of the bold nudes became nearly overwhelming.
"Thank you, my dear. But time has a way-" She did some quick thing with her fingers and to Helena's surprise, the bodice of Maria's velvet gown fell broadly open and her huge breasts seemed to pop out and apart as if they had been confined under cruel pressures. The flesh jiggled, making small dark blurs where the nipples centered the white moons. "They have heavied and sagged, I'm afraid, but they retain their lonely sensitivity, dear Helena! Would you and I shall close my eyes and pretend of another day kiss each one for me?"
Stunned by the swift development, Helena seemed unable to move and as Maria stepped forward, their eyes met in a strangely erotic kiss.
Then the soft warm globes were close and as Helena stared down at the pulsing tips, her body turned to molten stone and she was instantly wet between the thighs. Her head went down and with moist, nibbling lips, she took first one, then the other nipple into her mouth. They were hard, throbbing and the taste of naked skin was almost more than Helena could stand. With a cry of passion, she put her hands to the bobbing forms and squeezed them so the nipples thrust out for another kiss. Panting in the grip of her turmoiled emotions, she smeared her saliva over the shapes, teasing the quivering skin with her tongue tip.
"Yes, yes," Maria murmured. "Oh, we must not stop here!"
* * *
Helena stood with no will of her own as Maria slowly peeled her gown even lower. Her body moved like a soft silky cloud, showing no muscular form until the velvet was low around her ample hips. There her torso assumed a strength, a form of power, and Helena saw the beginning fringe of dark pubic hair where it shadowed the undercurve of the magnificent belly. She had a slimmer waist than Helena had thought and it only accented the bounteous flare of her meaty hips, so smooth and evenly fleshed as to appear freshly plucked from one of the paintings. Then the gown was a scarlet heap around Maria's ankles and she stepped out, one leg slowly lifting at a time, so the twin labia of her cunt had an opportunity to rub wetly and distort as her strong thighs exerted strain on the softness of her underbody. She was very hairy there and the faint odor of warm woman floated up to Helena's nostrils.
"Now, my dear, you too should undress and let me see the whole of you! I perish with need to see you naked and to hold your beautiful young body close to my heart. I will help-"
Her hands were everywhere then, moving, slithering over Helena's arms and shoulders, sliding under the high round shelf of her confined breasts, sweeping down and around to cup and fondle her buttocks. In a moment of panic, Helena thought to twist away, to evade the hot eyes and the intimate fingers but her muscles had no feeling.
Then Maria's face was close, moving slowly to hers, and for a second, Helena stared straight into the open mouth with its fine even teeth and the long narrowly held tongue. Then the hot moist cavern formed over her own lips and she felt as if she were being swallowed into heaven. The enfolding lips moved, like restless snakes, the head of another snake pushed into Helena's mouth and suddenly, she found strength to kiss back, her tongue fighting delightfully with Maria's, her lips sucking at the saliva that flowed between them Her hands came to life and she placed the palms to the naked waist, then let them slide down and back, filling them with the pillow-like nates. Her fingertips found deeper heat, and the moistness between Maria's buttocks turned the skin to silk. With a cry of surrender, Helena let her body press forward and they stood in close embrace, rubbing hard to each other with hip movements that only intensified their embrace.
"Your clothes, your clothes!" Maria said through the endless kiss.
The dizziness had returned, the fire had dried her throat. Helena only nodded and she stood in visible trembling while the older, larger woman stripped her body as if she were a doll. It was not like her morning times with Calina, Helena thought. Maria's kiss and nibble at her breast tips was more avid, more intense, more personal. Her fingers, feeling rounds and testing hollows were excitingly tender yet aggressively firm.
Then Helena was standing in slim nakedness and Maria stepped back, her black eyes burning over the alabaster voluptuousness. So devoured, Helena felt more feminine than she had ever felt before. Guiseppe had stared, had licked his lips and shown her the standing length of his erection, but it had been somehow different. With Guiseppe, she had felt like a woman, possessed of beauty and passion and a woman's responsibility to please her rampant mate. With Maria, she felt small and weak and totally pliable to the will and the desires of this domineering matron.
Maria moved close, her body suddenly large and flowing as she crushed Helena close. Their breasts met, distorted in bold bulging and their bellies flattened in hot contact. Maria did some enveloping thing with her legs and the stiff brush of black pubic hair pressed roughly to Helen's silken curls. As wet lips touched wet lips, Helena wailed and arched her back, pointing her pouting cunt directly into the larger crotch mouth. To heighten an ephemeral sensation, she ground her hips to the nest Maria formed and groans of ecstasy gurgled in her throat.
Then Maria began to assert command and Helena nearly fainted with new excitement. She felt her buttocks parted, the creep and delicious pressure of determined fingers, and finally, the fiery pressure of one as it rubbed and depressed her anus. Somehow, Helena had thought her ass-hole was something special for Calina, but as Maria prodded and indented her back hole, she humped to show Maria how good her finger felt, and she sought with her own to touch the large hot pucker between the cheeks of her aunt's rolling ass.
Then Maria began to sag, spreading her knees, lowering her line of furious kisses down from Helena's face and throat. Disappointed by the sudden lack of contact, Helena could only stand and after a moment, there was contact, this time of working lips and a deep probing tongue.
When Maria was fully knelt, Helena shifted her feet and her cunt was abruptly enveloped as her mouth had been, only seconds before. She let a cry of ecstasy escape her throat, then she was fucking into the rolling twisting face in her crotch, wincing with exquisite jerks as her clitoris was assaulted with tongue and pinching lips.
Standing so, her sex being mouthed and licked, Helena suddenly felt alone. She stared down between the swells of her own tits at the lovely back, with the twin rounds of Maria's bent ass at the end of the tawny curve and small bulges of compressed flesh along the hip line. She had felt the same loneliness with Calina, doing nearly the same sweet thing to her eager cunt. It was good, blindingly ecstatic, but it did not seem enough. She was a body being loved without a chance to love in return, and no matter the plunge and rake of Maria's tongue, above its reach was an emptiness, a void that ached for the distending ram of a gigantic prick.
Helena suddenly wanted pain, filling, wedging and above all, the chance to twist and convulse around a proper intruder. She leaned forward from the waist and put her hands under Maria's thickly-haired armpits. The feel of the coarse hair was thrilling, the moistness somehow exciting. She lifted and Maria raised.
"No, no, Maria," Helena panted. "No m-more, I beg of you! I need something else something, something!"
"I know, dear Helena, I know!" Maria cried and lifting, carried Helena to the canopied bed.
* * *
The yearning emptiness seemed to expand until Helena thought her belly would burst. She stared at the three weird devices Maria had taken from a cupboard and there was no doubt in her mind as to their purpose. That their lengths and contours were different spelled exotic variations. The long thick black one attached to the boot needed no explanation. Helena could see that the foot wearing the boot could be kinked back, presenting the stitched leather head to a properly bare bottom. It would be too thick to get it in her back hole, but Helena could imagine herself, lying on one nip as she now lay, plying the monstrous leather log in her cunt until she was half crazy with endless orgasms.
"I use it when I want to lie quietly and fondle my own tits," Maria confided. "I can then close my eyes and imagine I am being loved by one man or ten in a row, each enamoured of my body's curves and secret places! You would be surprised, dear Helena, how one's mind can ignore the fact that the fingers are your own and the movement of your leg is meaningful!"
"It it is so very b-big!" Helena gasped.
Laughingly, Maria picked up the boot and with a slow, deliberate movement, started the dildo into her vagina. Helena's eyes widened as she watched the manner in which Maria forced and twisted the thick device until it was buried over half its length in her opened cunt.
Standing with her feet well apart, Maria began to roll and undulate while she worked centimeter after centimeter of the phallus into her pumping belly. Finally, she let go of it and the boot dangled down, swaying and jerking as she inhaled and exhaled, using only her belly cavity.
"And the others, Maria?"
"This one is from France," Maria said, picking up the larger of the remaining two. "It is made of latex from Indo-China. See, it is made in keeping with the penis of a blackamoor, even to the false sack of testicles. Hold it, Helena, and see how real it feels and how accurately it is fashioned!"
New excitement gripped Helena as she fondled the huge dildo. Except that it was cold, it felt remarkably human, very like Guiseppe's loose-skinned prick except that it was considerably larger. She tested its meaty feel by pinching; the outer layer of latex gave but only so far, as if the craftsman had built his artistic creation around a more solid core. She had the instant desire to thrust it up into her cunt, to twist it so the whorled skin-shapes would bite and rip at her quivering tube and the broad, high-ridged head could satiate her emptiness.
Then Maria handed her the third dildo. It was made of wood, from its weight, over-laid with finely woven leather plaiting. It had a long, almost sharply tapered head and the shaft was smaller, if quite long to a place where the handle began. At the final end, a woven leather knob occurred and from this hung three leather thongs, like decorative tassels. A quiver of anticipated pain went through Helena; the texture of the plaiting would surely rip and lacerate even the most practiced user.
"Do you like my pretties, dear Helena?" Maria asked softly.
"Oh God!" Helena exclaimed. "I am frightened to death yet I can not help but I-love them! Oh Maria, will you h-help me now?"
"We will help each other," Maria whispered. "Which do you prefer?"
Helena gave a shriek and fell back, her legs flying out in quivering strain, her hips bouncing as if she were already impaled by one of the staffs. Her tits swelled, pointed straight up to the canopy and she could hardly breathe, so acute was her need.
"Either, either! Oh, Maria, I am dying for the thrust!" She clenched her eyes, waiting for the deadly insertion, the sweet agony of fulfillment.
But there was hesitation while Maria arranged herself beside Helena, her ass upraised to show the waggling penetration of her cunt from behind. Groping, Helena closed her hand around the shaft where it joined the boot, and when she moved the dildo, she could feel the clutch and suction of Maria's quim. Then she felt a cold blunt shape wet itself in her gaping sex, twist, press, and with slow pressure, enter her cunt mouth.
It was the black latex cock; Helena had no idea how a black lover's prick could be shaped but the mouth of her vulva seemed to stretch endlessly, until sharp pains told her it was not going in. She writhed with tension but could not quite release the final, necessary gripping.
Then to her surprise, the cock was well in, screwing deeper, stretching her hungry sleeve and relieving the terrible emptiness. She could feel Maria's fingers, kneading the flesh around the intrusion, and then the artificial prick was seated and the rubber balls hung heavily against her close-pinched ass. She inhaled, tensing against the fearful moment when Maria would begin the dildo's first retreat, and then she was no longer frightened, no longer concerned with anything but the exquisite sensations vibrating in her cunt.
As if to guide Maria, Helena took fresh grip on the leather log jutting from Maria's ass and began to fuck the hairy slash with eager vigor. Instantly, the long thick latex prick followed suit, wet now from the gush of Helena's cunt juices, turned sleek and yet not too sleek. It seemed terribly long and thick and Maria only terminated her deep thrust when Helena winced with pain at the feeling of being thumped high under her stomach. Her ass started to fuck back, her legs ached with the strain of hunching. Small cries of ecstasy bubbled from her saliva filled mouth and her eyes burned avidly at the beauty of what she was doing to Maria.
Presently, the pleasure became too great for either of them to relax around. They began to writhe and thresh, humping and turning on the false masculinities they plied in each other.
Helena felt one of Maria's fingers at her anus, probing, gaining a slight depth. She moved her free hand up and began to pet and depress the winking ass-hole just above the plunging leather prick. It was almost like doing wild and delightful things to herself. As her forefinger forced its tip into Maria's rectum, hers was penetrated, sending her hips into furious gyrations as the sting turned to sweet sensation. A garbled cry of joy sounded down between her straining thighs and Helena moaned back, her throat so tight she could barely emit a sound.
She thrust her finger all the way in and the soft feel of the milking bowel was as excruciatingly wonderful as the convulsions of her own deeply entered ass-hole.
Now they seemed as one circle of passionate flesh, each plunging and being plunged. Helena felt herself building toward the final moments of orgasm and to prolong the high plateau of thrills and sharp sensations, she slowed the undulations of her hips. She felt completely fucked.
Guiseppe had been wonderful but this was marvel beyond compare. The latex cock pumped, dragging her cunt lips out and tucking them in, filling her to bursting, then creating the screaming emptiness as it slid nearly out. It seemed not to touch her clitoris, but Maria's fingers filled this void and the wriggling digit in her ass-hole arranged the inner shapes to the best advantage for the next lunging.
Then Helena began to weep, her orgasm was hanging heavily, teetering over the mystic ledge of no return. She could sense the end, and she wanted never to know the end, then she had violent cum and it was as dear as had been the rhythmic stroke and the coursing log. Her small quick cries mingled with Maria's and together, they became one body, wet with gushing fluids, musked with each other's sweat and breathless.
* * *
From his position at the peephole his aunt had shown him, Giacomo had seen it all. His cock was straight up in his fist, his blood pounded with furious lust. Most exhilarating, however, was his sense of pending victory. One or two more erotic offerings and the sleek little Austrian slut would come groveling under his cock and plead that he kill her with its endless virility. But he wouldn't kill her. He'd fuck her into raging insanity and give her back to Guiseppe. He'd teach her so many delights that she'd spit on his stupid brother and send him to the priest for consolation. Giacomo laughed. A day or two more, a plan or two put into graphic action. Beginning, he thought, tomorrow morning.
He felt impatience, but his mind had already turned to diversion.
He looked again to where his aunt and his sister-in-law were playing lewd games with fingers, lips and half buried dildos. Exciting, yes, but not sufficiently so for Giacomo Galetia Dromeda. He tucked his limping prick away and moved along the darkened passageway, to emerge from behind a swinging panel of bookshelves in the deserted library.
It was a shame, he thought, that it had taken so many years for him to appreciate his aunt. She was as rarely marvelous as her thin-assed daughter was mundane.
CHAPTER NINE
They tethered the horses some distance from the hut and Toli led the way through the woods to the small clearing where the poor dwelling huddled. Giacomo's nostrils flared with excitement as he surveyed the house. The early moon showed its thatched roof and awry walls, and around the hut were small pens and a cow shed. There were two small windows in the face of the house, both covered with waxed cloth, to hold out the wind at night and admit light during the day. Behind one of these a faint glow told Giacomo a lantern was burning, or a low fire in the inevitable fireplace.
Now he took the lead and the two men stalked cross the yard, making no sound. At the door, Giacomo drew his rapier and stood with it held loosely in his right hand. Toli moved around his master and at a nod from Giacomo, knocked heavily on the plank door.
There was the sound of a wooden bar being removed, some grunts of unintelligible emotion, then the door swung open. The man standing there was hardly thirty, a broad, rudely clad contadino carrying a short, awkward sword. Giacomo moved like a cat and thrust his rapier through the man's neck. The "Augh-gh," of his throat turned into a bloody gurgle and he dropped, falling off of Giacomo's blade to the dirt floor. Giacomo stepped over him, his rapier ready for surprises. There were none. The one room possessed a fireplace, a rough table, three rickety chairs and a sagging bed.
The woman sitting up in the bed screamed, pressing her hands to her face as she stared at her dead husband. The young girl lying on the pallet by the fireplace came awake, eyes wide, hair flying, then she too screamed.
Toli advanced and his hulking ugliness shocked both the woman and her daughter into whimpering terror. Giacomo raised his sword and placed the dripping point to the top of the woman's unfitted nightdress. A down-flip of the rapier cut the cloth from the throat down, splitting it wide over her quivering tits, exposing the bulbs of tawny flesh, even to the small black nipples. She cried out in fresh terror and Giacomo laughed.
He hadn't counted on the mother being this pretty, nor so well shaped. She had a broad full mouth, now pinkly agape, and he could see the flare of her hips under the thin covers. He guessed her to be twenty-five or six, lush with the fullness of country women, and strong. His cock jerked as he thought of the struggles she would produce, and he feasted his eyes on her tits, bulged under her tanned forearms as she tried to hide her half nakedness.
Yes, he thought, she will scream and struggle and try to close her legs and when she discovers she cannot defend herself, she will lie weeping and gasping until my prick gives her a new reason to struggle and hump. He reached down and seized the blanket and as he did so, the woman rolled and hurled herself to the far side of the bed, against the wall.
As the little girl screamed anew and scrambled for her mother, Toli caught the child and closed her into his monstrous grasp. Giacomo took a moment to inspect the dark-haired girl. Less than twelve, already showing some of her mother's peasant roundness at hip and small firm breast pads. He made a quieting gesture to Toli who closed a big dirty palm over the child's mouth.
Again, Giacomo stole a moment to appreciate the woman's fresh fright. She stared at her daughter in the arms of the big ugly man, and from her lips came prayers and curses and entreaties, all of which went unanswered. Suddenly, she leaped toward Toli and Giacomo met her with a swiftly upswung boot that caught her in the belly. Her screams turned to a single gasp and she fell half off the bed, convulsing with pain and fighting for breath. Giacomo stuck his rapier point up into a roof beam and fell on the writhing woman.
He ripped her gown completely off, his eyes firing as he admired the full rounds of her ass and the taper of her strong legs. His hands smoothed around the forms, pressing and squeezing the plump cheeks, digging between them into the thickly-haired crevice, and under to find her cunt. She winced and jerked but he forced her legs apart and thrust rude fingers into her sex, screwing them around to explore the tight moist cavern's every cranny and softness.
She fought him as her breath returned on the wings of horror; he handled her easily, allowing her to kick and flail and expose her lithe body in every position, only to hold her and flip her when he tired of a certain vista. And little by little, she tired, still fighting but hopelessly. Her chest heaved, snapping her tits together so their sweat created exciting sounds.
Giacomo could smell her now; peasants were not as fastidious as gentry, he thought, but the acrid odor of her disturbed cunt and oozing armpits only increased the fever in his blood. His cock was like an iron rod, and suddenly he hurled her to the bed and unbelted. The woman's eyes opened even wider and she lay, legs half apart, fingers clutched into the poor bedclothes.
"Mother of God, no!" she cried. "Not before my child! Take our money-it is very little but Madre di Dios, no!"
Giacomo stood at the edge of the bed, stroking his huge cock and grinning down at the horrified woman. At his back, the little girl suddenly stopped sobbing. Grunts of pleasure came from Toli. Giacomo let go of his cock and seized the woman's ankles. With a mighty wrench, he separated her legs, bending them out until she screamed in agony. The cords stood out on her inner thighs, and the blackness of her crotch turned gray as the flesh stretched and thinned the profuse hair. The lips of her cunt opened and as she bucked to relieve her pain, the scarlet inner labia popped open and stood stiffly out.
Giacomo dragged her to the edge of the mean bed, bending her legs out and back until her ass assumed the shape of a cleft moon, the tight cheeks spreading to reveal her rectum nestled in the scraggly hair. Lowering himself, he knocked his prick against the beauties so exposed, slapping the blood-filled head first to her cunt, then to her back hole. He rubbed it on her, thrilling to the hot kisses and the feel of struggling tendons under the taut skin. Then he had to rear back because the tortured woman had sent clawing hands to his head. To teach her surrender, he spread her legs even further and her howl of pain was followed by swift calm her hands clenching her own tits in hysteria.
He moved in again and his prick nested in the wide open vulva. He moved pleasurably, wetting his glans in her body juices, irritating his cock in anticipation of the eventual plunge. Even the roughness of her-haired skin was tantalizing, and he toyed with the helpless delights, his passions rising as the woman writhed and moaned under his indignities. Suddenly, he thrust his cock straight into the distorted aperture, sending it in and in until he thought the foreskin would tear loose in the tight gripping. Perforce, he relaxed his outward pressure on her legs and as they closed a little, the changing tensions in the woman's belly seemed to close around his cock like two frantic fists. She yelped but he thrust on, trying to send his pole straight up through her heaving belly. Then she screamed and the delicious feel of srubbing his cock to the absolute end of her cunt brought a gasp of pleasure from Giacomo.
Holding his prick in hard, he watched the woman's face, changing expressions, all of them of agony, her jaw fluttering as she tried to protest, her head rolling from side to side as his cock displaced her inner forms. Laughing, Giacomo turned his head.
The little girl was staring as if turned to stone, her mouth agape at the massive penetration of her mother, her small hands working with jerks of fright. Toli too, had watched each new cruelty, and he had curled one hand down between the girl's legs, feeling through her gown of the virginal cunt between her trembling legs.
Giacomo began to fuck, wedging his lithe hips down before dragging back, his buttocks and thighs corded with the force he expended in the helpless crotch. He let go of her legs and closed both hands over her pulsating tits, squeezing them until she cried out, then flapping them up and down and to each side, roughing the nipples with his palms and leaving red marks on her sweating skin.
He fucked with twists, sending his prick at odd angles to stretch and explore the responses of her inner parts. Finally, he dropped one arm and sent his fingers under her ass, pressing and creeping to her anus. When he found the pucker, the woman moaned and tried to twist away and he held her by thrusting his digit into her ass-hole as far as it would go, the dryness of his finger rasping and ripping at her resistance like a burrowing animal.
She began to cry then, sobbing heavily, her eyes tightly closed so she did not have to look up into his snarling face. His fury was almost overpowering. With one hand holding her bruised breast and the other impaling her back hole with two fingers now, he fucked with long, rhythmic strokes, making her jerk with each plunge, letting her breathe when he reared his straining buttocks high. His cock seemed never to be through distending and thickening, rippling in and out of her sex sleeve, making soft wet sounds.
Then a crooked smile crossed Giacomo's face as he realized his cock was not getting larger at all. Her cunt was closing, working, responding to the pistoning it could not escape. Her eyes were less tightly closed, her breathing was evener and deeper, and the tit tip in his palm was abruptly like a fiery pebble. Then her lips parted in relaxation and her thighs moved in to press his bobbing hips, riding him as if he were a running stallion.
Chuckling deep in his throat, he reared back, dragging his long dripping cock from the enlivened vagina. With no warning, he pulled his two screwing fingers from her anus and sent his cock hard in before her shocked nerves could close her distended ass-hole. She shrieked but he did not stop his thrust until his hairy pelvic board smashed hard to her deserted quim. He held there, panting, feeling the hard convulsions of her bowel as it fought to expel the gigantic flesh turd. He flexed his prick, feeling down to test the big roundness of her anus around the root of his organ. Even the cheeks of her ass were wedged into half channels, so massive was his presence there. He tried to hurt her further by hard hunching and her cries were high and quick.
Her ass pressed down into the spring-less bed, her hips twisted, causing her bowel to produce new and exquisite tensions on his prick, and suddenly, Giacomo was through playing games. He began to fuck in earnest, thinking only of the head of his cock, the long shaft and the knotting in his balls. He let go of the woman and merely held her arms so she could not abruptly scratch his face. His prick turned to fire as he speeded his rooting, inflaming her anus to a ring of fire.
Even when he thought she had fainted from the ruthless ramming, he did not stop, and presently he fell over the ecstatic edge and sent his jism gushing into her well-churned bowel. Again and again, the hot slime coursed through his penis and ballooned into her raped ass-hole, soothing his nerves with his own salve.
* * *
After a few recovering moments, Giacomo became aware of where he was and what he was doing. He reared high, sliding his cock from the hot tunnel. To his surprise, he was not shitted. His cock was covered with a thick sticky mixture of jism and blood.
The woman did not move nor make any sign that he had withdrawn. She lay very flat, only the rise and fall of her chest and the strong pulse at the base of her throat testifying to her liveness. Giacomo stood looking down, and more of the jism and blood was trickling from her widely opened anus. Now there was also a bit of brown, but very little. He wiped his cock on her torn gown and it was pleasantly tender, the foreskin slightly swollen from the fierceness of his romp and the tightness of the woman's sex.
The little girl had turned in Toli's arms and was crying on his shoulder while he felt of her small ass. Toli smiled at his master and did a childish wriggle of his huge body.
Giacomo nodded toward the woman, eyebrows raised in question. Toli shook his head and moved the slim gowned figure between his knees. His cock hung out and down in a thick weary arc, and when he turned the girl, Giacomo saw the huge wet streaks of Toli's jism on her nightdress. Grinning, Giacomo put on his trousers and rebelted. He felt very good, but not quite good enough. The brutally raped woman lay as he had left her but she had raised one arm to rest across her eyes, as if in deep remembering or in mortal fear.
"Take her out and hold her on my mount," Giacomo said his first words of the night. "I shall follow."
Toli stood high, holding the abruptly squirming girl with one hand while he tucked his deflated cock into his loose trousers and tightened the ragged laces. Then he hoisted the weeping girl to his shoulder and went to the door, stepping over her murdered father. The girl screamed and extended her hands, fingers spread in frenzy, to her mother.
The woman stirred, seemed to struggle as she tried to sit up, then lunged after her daughter, crying, "Atina, my child, my child!"
Giacomo thrust out a boot and the woman tripped, going to her hands and knees, her face only inches from the contorted features of her dead husband. Giacomo jerked his rapier from the beam and with a long, clean thrust, sent the tip straight into the woman's flaccid ass-hole and on up until the hilt of the sword was indented in the lesh of her bucking rump. She could not even scream because the rapier point had ended its deadly run in her throat.
As she kicked like a beheaded chicken and fell sideways, Giacomo dragged the full length of the bloody blade from her impaled body and wiped it on the bed cover. His face was hard, drawn into a mask of frenzy. His prick jerked pleasantly as he stared down at the dying woman.
Then he turned and with the crude wrought iron shovel by the fireplace, raked the burning coals out, scattering them against the walls and under the bed. The quick smell of burning flesh rewarded the lodgement of several red particles against the woman's naked flesh.
A moment later, something flared up and as Giacomo quitted the hut, the interior was quickly red with devouring flames. At the edge of the clearing, Giacomo looked back and the thatched roof was already burning. He felt very good, then, and went on to where Toli was holding the hysterically weeping girl on Giacomo's elaborate Venetian saddle.
"Faccia presto!" Giacomo snapped to Toli and swung up behind the girl. Her body was a soft, quivering slimness in one circling arm, but there was now no time for dalliance because they had twenty kilometers to ride before daylight.
Before they went over the ridge, the sky behind them showed a strong yellow glow and Giacomo laughed with the Devil's own merriment.
CHAPTER TEN
Guiseppe had carried two determinations to Vicenza. One had to do with the forming of a solid administrative commune for the district of Vicenza, which had taken but two days to develop. The other had to do with an experiment in sexual matters. This latter had taken four days to develop and during the four days, Guiseppe had suffered the tortures of the damned, fluctuating between doubts and certainties, and at times, not being able to convince himself which were the doubts and which were the certainties.
Every time he remembered his rigid prick, sliding smoothly and hotly into Helena's avid mouth, he shuddered, and the memory of her mewling delight when his jism spurted into her furiously swallowing throat, set him to moaning in revulsion. He found himself in the unenviable position of being a bridegroom of less than ten days, half certain that the sweet blonde Austrian girl he had married had known far too much about sucking a rampant prick, and had done it far too expertly to be considered a novice.
This beginning doubt had not been at all clouded by his late night venture into a Vicenza house of prostitution following the long political session in the Loggia del Capitano. Shy in such matters, he had gone to a very elegant house, nearly in the shadow of the Chiericati Palazzo, and selected from the proffered bevy of voluptuous whores, a less rounded blonde, a blue-eyed Venetian girl who resembled Helena a great deal and took at once to his fine clothes and stalwart frame. He had in fact, flushed privately at his illicit pleasure in buying her wine and escorting her to a mirrored room in which the largest piece of furniture was a broad, sturdy bed.
In the awkward beginning, because he was not practiced at these things, she had even shown him a demureness not unlike Helena's. She had submitted to his flowery language and his inept hands and finally, they had reached the point Guiseppe had been waiting for. She was naked and so was he. She sat on the bed, smiling and apparently adoring his fine body and excellent cock. He had approached and she had started to fall back with parted legs and gorgeously exposed cunt and under-ass. But he had not fallen over her, nor spent a second pawing her jouncing tits. He had pulled her to a sitting position again and thrust his throbbing cock right into her tinted mouth.
His first set back had been her mild protests. It was an unnice form of making love, she was a clean woman, and only subscribed to prostitution because her parents were dead and she had a sick brother to support. Determined, Guiseppe had closed a tight fist in her blonde hair and pushed his prick back into her mouth, fucking shortly to show her that he wanted what he wanted. She had surrendered.
The second setback came when her jaws tired and her neck ached because of her lack of professional skill in the matter of sucking such a huge organ. Still determined, he had let her rest, then returned his cock to her saliva flowing mouth and fucked her lips with naturally increased passion.
The third failure nearly broke his heart. At orgasm, his huge gush of Dromeda jism had surprised her as it had surprised Helena, but the coughing, gasping whore had not swallowed even one drip of his cum. He had held her head, forcing her to absorb all of his sperm, but the moment his cock slipped from her bellowed cheeks, she spewed his full discharge into the washbasin by the bed, then made a great thing out of rinsing her mouth with strong wine.
He had paid and left her, his heart heavy with the certainty that if a professional whore did not like to suck his cock, and would not swallow his sperm, then Helena was positively some creature of totally debased character and was thusly, not fit to be the wife of the Deputy Administrator of Vicenza Distriti. And certainly not fit to be the wife of a Dromeda.
By morning, he had revived another doubt. The whore had been paid a ducat for a fuck. It could well be possible that her experiences had not cured her aversion to sucking; it had to be an aversion to sucking because her profession precluded any aversion to other forms of sexual encounter.
He kept remembering how sweet and submissive Helena had been, how beautiful she was and how important her father was. He then decided that the experiment he had made was not valid. Until he could test a more social female, a woman of high principles and a family tradition, and perhaps a strongly religious background, he could not, by any right, compare Helena's seeming lust with the attitudes of lesser women.
He had then begun a whirlwind romance with the niece of a most devout man, Cardinale Alfonzo Di Fremonti.
* * *
As he rolled over on the slightly frenzied Magna, Guiseppe had a quick flight of belated imagine; had he known in previous years how soft and susceptible were young, beautiful and seemingly untouchable maidens, he would have enjoyed his youth considerably more.
Now he kissed Magna's lips, her eyes, her forehead and then the hard pink nipples of her hastily bared tits. His hand was high up between her legs, having braved and conquered her four petticoats and her closely tied pantalones. Her inner thighs were damp with sweat and they quivered expectantly under his creeping fingers. He felt the fringe of hair growing at their juncture, then he pressed on, and she wailed with joy as his palm curled over her split pubic mound and pressed hard to the virgin lips of her pulsating cunt.
She was, he thought, ready to be fucked, a delight he had no intention of claiming. But he fingered her labia and made several exploratory feelings between them, finding her clitoris and making her mewl when he rubbed it. Her ass began to hunch and he teased her as best he knew how. His prick had long been rock hard and tingling because bridegroom or not, hugging and kissing and feeling a lovely girl like Magna had demanded response and under other circumstances, Guiseppe would have tipped her to one side on the bench and pulled down her pantaloons so he could have entered her from behind to avoid her voluminous clothing.
As it was, he noted the slight bead of perspiration that flourished on her upper lip, and the glaze of confusion over her bright black eyes. He had no idea when the proper moment had arrived, except that his own urges were becoming impossible to ignore.
She seemed hardly to know when he rested her back on the bench and moved around, still keeping his hand up under her clothing lest she become alarmed were he to cease his massage of her cunt. He managed his trousers open and either that did not alarm her or she was past caring what he intended to do. His cock burst free of his trousers, sticky with its own ooze and perspiration. He rolled the foreskin back to relieve its tension, then moved up.
When he took his hand from her pussy, she gasped in sorrow and her mouth came open. He put the throbbing head of his prick straight into the gaping lips and waited, holding his breath for her reactions. His were delicious; the feel of her hot wet mouth, her tongue trembling under the pulsating glans and the illicit and unholy pleasure of attempting this act with a Cardinale's niece in the quiet of his own garden nearly caused Guiseppe to have orgasm without preamble. But he fought the desire and waited. It seemed ages but was actually only a split second. Magna gasped. Her hot breath did not cool his ardour.
"No, no!" she mumbled without letting his cock escape her lips. "Oh, yes, yes!" Her hand came up and the slim fingers curled around his prick and began to frig it with slow rhythm, her thumb running along the undertube, sending shivers of delight up Guiseppe's spine. And her avid mouthing lifted his spirits to uncalculated heights. She, the innocent niece of a most holy man, was employing exactly the same heat and attentions Helena had used.
Indeed, he thought, by closing his eyes and remembering, he might well be back in his own castle, hunching into the caress of his own wife. Now Magna's other hand came up and burrowed into his trousers to find and finger his gigantic balls, swimming in the sperm he wanted desperately to discharge into her throat.
Her head rolled from side to side, bulging first one cheek and then the other around the knob of his organ. Her tongue tip-lashed at the distending eye, teasing, vibrating and finally washing around the blood-filled head as if it were a sugar sweet.
Guiseppe was satisfied that all his accusations of Helena had been childish and naive. He panted and undulated and began to let go of his control. His balls tightened, he could feel his prick swell and distend, tingling along its length for her most eager caress. Her head was now moving forward and back, at each forward taking half his prick into her sloshing mouth, at each back, closing her lips tightly to suck daintily at the firming head.
Then suddenly, Magna drew her head away and eased her frigging. She raised hot eyes to his and with a cry of demanding passion, rolled back and stiffened, jerking from head to toe as if in a fit. Her legs parted, the heels of her slipper beat the grass, and her ass fucked up at nothing. Her hands tore at her tits, squeezing and milking them and Guiseppe stared like a dolt while her orgasm turned the beautiful girl into a threshing, panting thing of no beauty nor purpose at all.
Glancing around to see if her moans had perchance alerted a servant, Guiseppe cursed her involuntary passion. His prick softened slightly, falling out in a long arc, still gleaming from her thickly applied saliva.
"Magna, Magna," he husked. "What of me, dear Magna? Have you deserted me in your ecstasy, my love?"
She giggled, her body slowly relaxing until she lay in a soft curve on the bench. Her hands came shakily to her face, her shoulders moved and her tits were partially shrouded by her parted bodice.
"Oh, dear Guiseppe!" she husked. "I could not help myself! It was wonderful, heavenly, the sound of Angels' wings, the whisper of a dove! But of course I have deserted you! I know that you have recently wed and are therefore not available, no matter our passions. And I must remain a virgin, worse luck, until my dear uncle determines whom I am to wed! But you are so handsome and forceful, I could not deny myself the unvital pleasures you offered me. Oh, I feel so warm and good, Guiseppe! And what now of that giant prickle you have there?"
He wanted to request that she finish her sucking, or that she frig him into cum, but the smile on her face was minxish and not at all conducive to the depth of passion he needed to revive. He put it away in his trousers and condescended to kiss her feverish lips.
The following morning, he left for il Castello di Dromeda, done with experimenting but no more certain about Helena than he had been five days before.
* * *
As was her habit, Helena awakened with the first light of dawn but instead of turning over and purring back to sleep, she sat up, the conflicts of the previous day eradicating all thoughts of further sleep. Her thoughts were troubled, somewhat over what she had allowed herself to do, with Calina and finally, Maria, but mostly because she couldn't understand why she had done such lewd things while her soul cried out in revulsion.
She had tried to tell herself that she had succumbed to fierce and illicit sexual acts because she was lonesome for her husband, but this excuse she had been forced to abandon. Calina and Maria were not substitutes for Guiseppe; the exotic thrills they offered were far too demanding, too compelling.
In the end, she had confessed to herself that flesh was exciting, and the intimate animal contact with another woman as erotically hungry as herself was oddly satisfying. She sat now, rubbing herself between the legs, petting her tingling flesh with knowing fingers, and that quickly, she knew she could not resist Calina when she came to begin her day of maidservice. Wailing at her weakness, Helena fought valiantly against the yearnings in her mind and body.
Abruptly, she knew what she had to do. She slipped out of bed and began a hurried toilet. If she could not resist the charms and the soft hands and the murmured endearments of a peasant girl, then the single thing to do was to not put herself in a position to experience the exquisite onslaught. She had not the slightest idea what to do so early in the morning, but it seemed imperative to Helena that she not be in her bed when Calina entered the apartment. Shaking with pride over her sudden firmness, she left the rooms, convinced that at last, she had begun a staunch battle against the evils of her desires.
A servant or two paused in the wielding of their great straw brooms, amazed that the Signora Dromeda should be up and about at that early hour, but Helena counted this as a partial victory once her husband returned and her turmoils quieted, she would accustom the many servants to her rightful position in Dromeda. She would slowly assume control of the castle and there would come a time when the dingy and nearly always silent castle would hum with guests, from Venice, perhaps even from Vienna, and certainly from Vicenza and the rich Duchies surrounding Dromeda.
She had no intention of displacing Maria, but there would be enough for both of them to do. Two other factors did not seem so easy to evaluate. Taurina, Maria's daughter, was going to be a problem, with her excessive wine consumption and her naturally reticent nature. Helena's biggest concern was Giacomo.
She had hardly seen him more than three or four times since her arrival. Each time, he had been acrid and boastful, even rude. She had accredited his mien to be a signal of the disaffection Maria had remarked as a normal state of affairs between the two brothers. They were identical to see, yet grotesquely different as to nature. If Guiseppe were serious and dedicated to the responsibilities of a landed heir, Giacomo seemed frivolous and superficial.
It was commonly known that Giacomo showed no interest in the welfare of Dromeda except in the matter of punishing mal-doers, an exception at which he had seemed most adept. Helena's spine flushed warm at the memory of his brutal destruction of the two hanging women. Disturbed by vivid images she moved to the downstairs sitting area and ordered a cleaning woman to the kitchens for tea and a sweet biscuit.
She sat quietly then, refreshed by her clarity of mind and her first thoughts of the coming years. In Austrian society, the responsibilities of a wife were clearly defined, and now that she had learned to conquer the base emotions that had led her into dangerous and evil surrenders, she would show Guiseppe that she was worthy of his love. Because he was her husband, she permitted herself to think of their meagre five nights together.
To herself, she admitted that she hadn't been very responsive on their wedding night; his huge cock and his frenzy to put it into her had not been quite in line with her girlish dreams of love and romance and the tender understanding that had existed between her own father and mother. Again she flushed she had no real idea how her father conducted himself in the bedchamber with her mother.
Helena remembered on; the second night, the third night, and by the fourth night, she had begun to meet and even anticipate Guiseppe's plunging lusts. His prick had begun to arouse delicious sensitivity in her barely healed cunt and she was able to hope for the day when she could react fully, even wrest from him the lead in their love-making.
When she came to the memory of the first night in Dromeda, she shivered and once more her spine began to sweat. She felt small moisture gather in her crotch and her tits boldly pumped until the nipples protested against the closure of her bodice. It had seemed to Helena that his huge prick was made for her fingers and lips, and the desire to suck his penis had been overwhelming. She licked her lips in recollection of his gushing jism, then she winced as her mind recalled the brutal blow he had dealt her. Her throat tightened; after that while she lay in shock and agony, he had come crashing down on her and ruthlessly into her anus. She nearly screamed remembering the mortal agony of his huge cock bursting into her rectum like a charging bull.
Then Helena quieted her tensing nerves by trying to remember, or imagine, what had happened to her during the period of senselessness. She had awakened tied to the bed, not now a terribly ugly idea. Her ass-hole had been on fire, her flesh tingling with abuse. She had been fully humiliated and frightened.
Well, she thought, she would never be frightened again and she would have to pretend humiliation if he required it. Nor would she ever faint again and miss the delights she was now prepared to enjoy. Her bottom itched, and Helena was suddenly nervous and quaking. She looked at the position of the sun coming through the high narrow windows. It was, she decided, just about time for Calina to enter her rooms and begin her morning tasks.
Helena stood up, swaying with sudden headiness. Her entire body sang like violin strings, needing only the touch of a maestro to bring the discordant tones into perfect harmony. As if propelled by unseen hands, she left the sitting room and made her way up the big central stairway. Another morning with Calina could not possibly hurt, now that she had made up her mind to divorce herself from idle lewdness.
* * *
Still exhilarated from his night of murder, rape and kidnapping, Giacomo's mind worked with the precision of a clockmaker's. The moment he saw Helena rise and hurriedly dress, he left his peekhole and made his way to Calina's room in the servants quarters.
He was sure of one of two things; Helena was either going again to his aunt's quarters or she had suddenly become disenchanted with Calina whose talents were considerably less than Maria's. He was sure of the latter probability because it was far too early for Maria to up and about, let alone inclined to pretended passion for Helena. In any case, he had explained his change of plans to Toli and his sister and with the haste of a charging general, had set up his campaign on new battle ground.
Now, seeing Helena at the top of the stairs, he stepped back into the small room. Calina was perched on a linen sorting table, her skirt well up around her lush thighs. Toli stood, pants-less, his brutish body seemingly far too huge and weighty for his hairy legs. His prick hung out in half erection, his balls swung from their beginning in the shadows under the root of his wrist-thick cock.
"All right," Giacoma husked. "She is coming!" Then he stepped back into a rack of hanging bedclothes, his awry smile revealing the devilment in his plan.
* * *
She had always supposed the closed door hid some kind of a service room and when Helena saw that it was open, she peered in. At that moment, a small, familiar giggle rose, punctuated by a grunt.
Helena's mouth dropped open and her breath choked. On the table between the racks and cupboards, Calina was balanced on her bare bottom, her tawny legs raised and out-spread around the humping hips of her hulking brother.
From Helena's angle, she could see at least five or six centimeters of the huge cock Toli was plunging in and out of Calina's wide open cunt. His balls seemed monstrous, swinging with the rhythm of his stroking. He was braced to the table with palms flat; Toli was so big his head hung well past Calina's, drooping like a weary dog's. Calina's arms were wrapped around his chest, her body angled so she could lever her splayed ass to meet the undulations of her brother's hips. Now they twisted and shifted and Helena's eyes opened so wide they pained as she stared at the length of prick Toli slipped from Calina's cunt. It was larger than Guiseppe's, thicker and club-ended with pulsating scarlet. Then he plunged it back into his eager, panting sister and the wet sounds increased in speed.
A trickle of urine ran down Helena's thighs as her body let go of every tension. Her first reaction was revulsion. She had known Calina and Toli were brother and sister, and that the huge, speechless man was Giacomo's private servant. But she had never thought of incest, if she had ever thought of the pair at all.
Even now, Calina seemed so lush and passionate and pretty in her straining that her brother seemed like some gigantic ape, of a primitive, distant race. Then Helena knew hate; only yesterday morning she had nuzzled and licked and kissed the cunt now being fired and distended by a massive cock that could not help but be filthy. After that, Helena could only writhe inwardly and adore the obscenity before her.
Toli's prick shone with the wet from Calina's pumping vagina, and at every thrust, the hairy pelvic form mashed hard to her plumply lipped quim. His grunts and her small giggles, interspersed with soft moans of ecstasy, became a symphony in Helena's ears. The rush and smack of flesh was excruciatingly lewd and hideously exciting. Her belly knotted, wincing at each stroke, quivering as he withdrew, and Helena could not help wishing the body he punished with such ruthless masculinity were hers.
Then Calina locked her bare legs around her brother's back and kicked her ass hard to him, her high, tense giggles testifying as to the thrill her greed had inspired.
Perspiration dampened Helena's clothes, her cunt hung in oozing convulsions and her tits seemed to be swelling beyond the power of her bodice to resist. She licked her lips, panting them dry in a few seconds. She was unable to tear her eyes from the hot wet union of cock and absorbing cunt, and it was getting hotter and wetter. She longed to dig under her clothes and whip mad fingers into her aching pussy but she was atrophied with fascination as well as fearful that they might discover her and end the lovely drama.
Then she was lifted from the plateau of visual concentration by a new frenzy in Toli's fucking. He bent lower, bowing his broad back with seeming intent to split his sister in half. Calina squealed and unlocked her legs to send them out as far as the strained cords would permit, as if she relished the splitting. Her ass gyrated with new enthusiasm and her fingers clawed cat-like at her brother's back. Toli closed down, his cock went all the way in and ground deeply in the sex sleeve. Moans of nearing orgasm burst from Calina, and Helena could hear Toli's breath, rushing through his big hairy nose.
"Aighiah! Fratello mia!" Calina cried. "I am h-having it, I am cumming! Oh-oo, Toli, Toli!"
His grunt was long and like a dog's growl. Helena nearly fainted as his orgasm lunge slid Calina's ass back on the table. He seemed to flatten, then convulse and his sister clung to his humping body as if the next moment were to be her last. They gradually became still and Helena fought for strength enough to move out of the doorway and down the hall.
She had taken only a few steps when the tensions of walking caused her to have orgasm. She hesitated, head down, feet apart, mixing the unreasonable passion with her revulsion for Calina.
As her spontaneous passions subsided, her revulsion expanded to include herself. Yesterday she had shared furious and unlimited ecstasies with Calina and had this morning returned to her rooms for more. She could not help wondering if her escapade with Calina on other days had not been preceded by the kind of lewdness she had just witnessed. How many times, she wondered, had she licked up and swallowed Toli's jism? The lust of a hulking, speechless monster who fucked his own sister with the greatest of relish. Which thought only multiplied Helena's self-recriminations.
She had stood there, inhaling with every fiber of her being the obscene display of animal passion. She could have cried out, reviled them both or called other servants to end the sordid affair. Or called Giacomo, who would delight in lashing the hides from their filthy backs. But she had done none of these things. She had stood in hideous fascination, adoring each movement of their meshed sex, feeding her own desires and tension on their beautifully ugly fucking.
And now, lying on her bed, sobbing with some strange grief, she could think of only one thing the unbelievable beauty of Toli's bestial prick coursing in and out of Calina's distended cunt. She could see the gleaming white of his juiced cock and the purpling puff of Calina's quim, and as she remembered, she fought the admission that she had been envious of her maid, and not at all caring about the ugliness of Toli.
Later in the day, she thought, she would surely need to seek the solace of a priest because the Devil had infected her body and her soul with a degree of sin beyond her wildest imaginations.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
One moment there was word that the coterie of Guiseppe Galetia Dromeda was winding up the hill, and the next, Helena moved demurely into his embrace, inwardly so excited and happy over her husband's return she could hardly keep from falling to her back with spread legs. They exchanged a gentle kiss and murmurs of greeting, then there was much boring talk between Guiseppe and the leering Giacomo about the success of his mission to Vicenza, and some expressions of family affection to Maria.
There was wine to ease the ardours of the long ride from the valley city and throughout the seemingly eternal waiting, Helena said small prayers of gratitude; her dear husband had come back to save her from her tribulations and to make her once again a whole woman.
When the greetings and news from Vicenza were over, Guiseppe announced the need of a bath and clean clothes, and only then did Helena begin to feel like a wife. As they ascended the stairs together, he with his arm around her and she with her hip rubbing strongly to his thigh, she felt the need of bringing back some degree of intimacy.
"I have missed you so, my Guiseppe," she sighed. "While I am proud that you have accomplished so much in Vicenza, I felt often as a deserted bride, shorn of her strength and deserted by her love! Oh, Guiseppe, my arms have ached for your strong body, my lips for your kisses and my-"
"I know, my sweet," he interrupted her. "I have thought constantly of you and I too have been miserable without your tender love. Have you managed to forgive my-my rude treatment of yourself?"
"But, of course, my husband! It was as nothing well, not nothing, perhaps, but the more I thought of it the more I cherished your anger and your punishment. I was brash and bold and unthinking, I am sure! But, oh, my darling, I meant only to show you my love, only my love!"
He did not say the things she had wanted him to say but it was obvious to her that he was tired, and still a trifle shy about their brief experiences together.
In their rooms, she checked to see that the huge porcelained tub was properly full of steaming water, and she quickly waved the waiting servant out of the apartment. When she returned to the bedchamber, Guiseppe was stripped to the waist, patently hesitant to remove his riding leathers in her presence. Her heart racing and her cunt quaking with expectancy, she went to him and reached up to encircle his neck, laying her thinly clad tits firmly to his chest and squirming with womanly glee.
"I will help you bathe, my darling Guiseppe," she whispered. "I hunger so for your body I am quivering with my every fiber!"
"Yes," he said, and his hands at her back were nervous.
She felt the flutter and tried to imagine the eagerness that so excited him. She unbuckled his broad-belt and fumbled at the laces of his breeches. His hands came up to rest on her shoulders and she could feel the heat of his breath blossoming down over her flushed face. Then she was peeling down the leather trousers, and as his hairy groin narrowed down to its under-peak, she stared at his huge cock, hanging in a thick arc as its pulsing veins pumped visibly. For an instant, she was torn with a great desire to seize the beautiful organ and stuff it into her mouth but she dared not risk such immediate boldness. Instead, she patted it gently and felt under it for the huge rubbery sack from which his fountains of sperm would soon erupt. Her nostrils flared hotly at the odor of his crotch sweat and the musk of his genitals and she managed to bump his swelling prick with her face as she stooped to hold each trouser leg as he stepped free of the heavy garment.
Then she stood up, caressing her husband's stalwart body and rising masculinity with hungry eyes. He seemed embarrassed and his smile in answer to hers was slow. With a cry of need, she went into his hesitant embrace again.
"Go in and enter the water, my darling," she whispered. "I will attend you in a moment!"
Her hands smoothed down his back and explored the strong buttocks, causing them to tense as she tested their solid roundness. Her fingertips wandered over the-haired contours, and she rubbed her belly against the now high and rigid column of his cock. She felt him tremble as if the significance of the moment were finally apparent. She patted his nates and turned him toward the bath chambers. He looked back, his eyes narrowed as he saw her hands move to unfasten her clothes. She stamped her foot playfully.
"Go on, go on, my love!" she husked. "I will be but a moment!"
He obeyed and Helena felt very confident, very content with her domination of his natural shyness. She tried to imagine how to start with him and her dizziness was so acute she gave up and resolved to let it occur as he desired it.
* * *
Guiseppe stood, staring into the hot water as if it represented the bowels of a flaming Hell. His hopes for Helena were shattered, his dreams dispersed. There had been nothing either genteel or wifely about her disrobing of him, and he had missed none of her eagerness over his cock. He looked down at the long stiff club of flesh. And yet he had been unable to resist the intensity of her eyes and fingers. He had wanted to fuck her the moment he had seen her standing with hands outstretched and eyes watering with joy at his return. The bath had been a pretense; he could have waited to cleanse himself of the dust and sweat. He had used it only as an excuse to get Helena into their bedchamber, and now he was torn between revulsion for her willingness and desire for her lovely body.
The problem was not that she was such an avid woman, the problem was that she was his wife, and from the wife of a Dromeda, such bold sexuality was unseeming and morally painful. He stripped his foreskin back and his prick grew a finger-width and throbbed with demand. Guiseppe sighed and then he heard Helena's gasp of approval from behind.
When he turned, she was standing in the doorway, her naked body the lush and gleaming symbol of feminine perfection.
"The the water seems very hot," he said in apology for his dryness.
She tripped forward, her big breasts swaying and popping against the skin of his chest, her thighs gathering and relaxing in rhythm to her step. He saw her cunt then, a pink, barely turned open pair of moist lips, so sweet and compelling his cock flexed and distended with painful need.
"Yes, my love," Helena breathed, standing so the head of his prick kissed the soft curve of her belly. "We must let it cool a bit. Do you not think of something to do while we wait?"
Defeat struck him like the blow of a massive hammer. Guiseppe raised his trembling hands and cupped them to her flint-tipped tits. She writhed to move them in his palms and his fingers burned with the heat of her skin. He felt the saliva gather in his mouth and he swallowed thickly.
Suddenly, he swooped and cradled her in his arms, lifting her. She put one arm around his neck and turned her face for his kiss. At the moment their open, hungry lips met, she seemed to sag and his up-angled cock bumped firmly to the bend of her bottom. He forgot the bath, forgot his apprehensions and strode back into the bedchamber.
When he laid her on the bed, she pivoted on her squirming ass and when he lowered himself, it was into the broadly spread vee of her out-flung thighs. He groaned with reluctance but nothing could stop the way his hips jerked forward, his waving prick seeking the sweet hot nest she was offering his lust. Her arms around his neck were like steel bands, his hands under her curled back were pressing, holding, guiding. He felt his cock touch the wet softness, skid upward over the silky hair of her pubic mound. He did searching movements with his hips and abruptly, Helena cried out and moved one hand down between them.
Her fingers pressed and stripped his prick, holding the naked head out in throbbing fury, then she did a proper, twisting hunch and he nearly yelled as the greedy lips of her vulva absorbed his penis in gulping jerks. For a moment, he thought the tight sleeve would rip the skin from his tender cock, but the sensation was only for a second because her cunt was inwardly loose with oozing juices and his cock soon seated into fiery softness.
Frenzied now, he clasped her tightly and began to fuck with irregular thrusting, quick strokes, short undulations and deep plunging. The body in his arms seemed somehow a strange one because it responded with subtle hunching and acutely timed twists. He felt her thighs pressing his hips, and her belly snapped tight to the sweat on his own. As he strained, he felt her lips on the under jut of his chin. The smell of her hair was sweet and personal and however he shifted his shoulders or torso, she quickly fitted to him as if tied by a thousand cords.
He fucked ruthlessly, trying somehow to make her gasp or wince or protest his building frenzy, but no matter how deep he sent his cock, or how he banged his pelvis to hers, she only mewled and moaned with joy and whipped back at his taut body with revolting skill. Even his fingers squeezing and bruising her back and buttocks were rewarded with enthusiastic passion and when he came to his orgasm, half of his groaning was in ecstasy and the other half in the agony of his soul over his wife's harlot-like agility on his gushing prick.
Weeping inwardly, he sent his sperm into the gulping sleeve and tried desperately not to adore the fuck she had hotly provided. He lay then, momentarily debilitated, his body hard to hers, his senses counting the softly flowing movements of her unsatiated cunt. Her fingers toyed with his crisp black hair, petting him, he thought, as if her whore-mind understood his need for comforting caresses.
"Oh, Guiseppe! I have waited so long, so very, very long!" she panted. "Was I good to you, my darling? I love you so! Say you love my body as I love yours! Kiss me, Guiseppe, and tell me I am all you hoped I would be! My God, what joy, what ethereal happiness!"
He raised and looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed. A half smile parted her full red mouth. She lay, he thought, exactly like a village wench, codded by whomever had caught her in a haystack. He reared high, slipping first from her flooded cunt, then from her trailing arms. He stood looking down at the magnificent body, still opened as he had left it.
Helena wore a smile; he could not tell if it was one of pleasure for his acceptance of her passion or one of derision for his agony. With a cry of despair, he fell to the bed, ample space between his body and hers, his arm over his eyes to shut out the horror of his disgrace; his nose tingled with the smell of her aroused sex and his cock pulsed with residual sensations. He wished she were the Vicenza whore because he would have been then free to fuck her again and again.
"Guiseppe?" came her softly plaintive call.
His head shook under his forearm. "I can not talk, Helena," he murmured. "I am totally devastated!"
* * *
Without bringing her legs together, Helena sat up, pleased by his words and thrilled at the subtle feel of his huge discharge running from her cunt to the bed covering. She looked down, loving the strong trickle of sticky gray-white fluid. Glancing at Guiseppe's covered eyes, she put two fingers into the jism and then licked her fingers clean. A shudder of delight made her thickened tits jiggle; she had remembered the taste very well.
Turning, she stared in fascination at his half-limped prick. There was another large sweet drop hanging to the swollen eye, as if his cock could remember her milking cunt. With a cry of desire, Helena rolled over and crushed her body over his, one leg throwing over his thighs, her cunt pushed hard and wetly to his lithe hip and her tit lying bulbous and hot on his chest. Her fingers went to his cheeks, his forehead and down to the strong pulse at the base of his mighty neck. He did not stir and Helena decided that it was now her turn, to enliven him, to excite him and to show him how much she loved him.
Still wary of too much too quickly, she slid one palm down his muscular belly and took gentle possession of his prick.
It was hot, neither hard nor soft and it filled her grip in a most exhilarating fashion. She felt of the under-tube, fat and rooted deeply between the upper contours of his cock and the still plump and promising sack of testicles. The hair tickled her fingers, and she let one digit move down under to delight in the strong cords and muscles of his underbody. This, she thought, is the difference.
Her mind remembered Calina and the hairbrush handle, Maria and the exciting feel of the massive dildoes, but her hand now toyed with and adored the feel of man, the vital forms of sex that could not be duplicated by latex or leather. The feel of her man, now breathing harder as his cock began to throb in growing.
She caressed the long living shape, feeling it expand and lengthen and harden in her gentle grasp. Her cunt convulsed but her desires went further.
Once in fury, he had fucked her ass-hole until it was raw and distended. She sensed that he had been trying to punish her for some imagined transgression, but instead of beating her, he had chosen to rape her rectum; to Helena, this meant only that he had vented his strange anger in some secretly desired lust.
Even after she had fainted in pain from his first deep ramming and tearing, he had taken time to tie her to the bed and finish his fuck in her ass-hole. Now she squirmed, feeling her anus as a pulsing knot between the cheeks of her tensing ass. She stroked his cock, bringing it slowly to a stance. It was sticky from his jism and her cunt fluids, and the uncleanliness of it excited her even more than had it been washed and freshly powdered. She visioned it digging into her rectum, hurting, even tearing, but in a sweet ecstatic way that would soon turn to exquisite pleasure.
Crawling slowly, making sure that every inch of her belly and thighs rubbed strongly to him, she slid up and astraddle his waist. She let her belly throb down, smearing her cunt wet to his hairy groin. He did not seem to take notice; Helena giggled, anticipating his sudden lunge to life when his prick was firmly in the grip of her eager anus. When her working mouth filled with saliva, Helena transferred a large amount to her ass-hole with pressing fingers. She even entered her rectum with two wet fingers, thrilled by the thought that she needed to be larger, half open for the broad thick organ at her back. Then she raised on her knees and felt back for his cock, stroking it a bit awkwardly but with tightening fingers. Then she placed the blood-filled head to her winking, loosely moist ass-hole and with a yelp of glee, sat down hard.
Guiseppe jerked, came curling up. "Helena! No, my God, no!" he cried, but she was screwing down, hurting delightfully, capturing the huge pole in her bowel with every movement. She leaned forward and kissed his sweating forehead, and then his arms closed around her and she twisted even harder, and her cunt settled to his groin, his cock buried painfully but wonderfully in her convulsing back tube.
"Oh, Guiseppe, Guiseppe, my love! Hurt me again tear me, split me, make me cry with love for you, my darling!" she cried.
"You filthy bitch!" he roared and with a mighty heave, rolled her over, his cock turning her as if grown tightly in her ass.
He rammed hard, sinking her back into the bed, sending shrieks of agony up through her impaled body. His hands closed brutally over her tits wrenching them ruthlessly and Helena screamed in happy hurting. Then he pulled one final time before reaching down to drag her legs up and out, folding them back over her shoulders so her ass was made into a sharp, softly cushioned angle. Her ass seemed to open and his cock went furiously in until she could feel his balls trying to enter her largely rounded ass-hole. His weight crushed down, his arms closed her legs tightly to her tits and she seemed like only a big, big ass with his cock tearing and pumping in its center.
She clutched at him, afraid he might not continue, and she began to rotate her ass in small circles, feeling how his prick dug and depressed in her constricted bowel. She had orgasm after orgasm until it became impossible for Helena to separate them from revived ecstasy and even more impossible to think. Pain and passion enveloped her, and the hurting places turned numb as the excruciatingly battering prick swelled and thundered in her ass. She felt his cum as eight or ten furious jolts, firing her bowel to unbearably magnificent heat.
Then with head thrashing and her lips bubbling with saliva, she gave a gasp and fainted into a passionate stupor in which her mind could only see how his thick cock was tucking and dragging at her impossibly distended ass-hole.
* * *
She felt his hands and that her body was being lifted. As she tried to turn into his arms and cry her happiness, she sensed the restraint of his hands. Struggling for sensibility, she opened her eyes and above her face was his, drawn into a hideous mask of rage and hate. Helena jerked. He spat straight down on her, the hot glob of thick saliva striking her cheek. She screamed with sudden terror.
Then he hurled her and she struck the stone floor of the hallway, losing her breath to the rude impact of cold rock. She lay, confused and frightened, and her soul shriveled to shreds of anguish as he guided his shitty cock and urinated over her full length.
Dripped, he turned and re-entered their apartment, and only the slam of the heavy wooden door ended his harsh, inhuman laughter. Destroyed, Helena lay and wept, praying for death and pleading for her mother.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bathed and powdered and warmed by wine, Helena lay in Maria's bed, weeping softly, not for the ache in her bottom and the soreness of her back hole but for the bruising of her heart and the confusion Guiseppe's actions had originated.
"Oh, dear Maria, what am I going to do?" she wailed. "I had thought only to show him my love, my adoration! Am I to be a wife in name only? Oh, what manner of man have I married, Maria?"
Beneath the sympathy in Maria's eyes there lurked a most discomforting blankness that only added terror to Helena's unhappiness. The older woman leaned forward and patted Helena's forehead.
"He is the man I described to you a few days ago, my dear. He is strange and secretive, of rapidly changing moods and unpredictable reactions. It is not possible to talk to him because he also has a devious streak which prevents him from admitting his own failings. I know the world thinks Giacomo is the wild one, the brash-tongued adventurer of the two and so he is. But beneath Guiseppe's facade of seriousness and honest dedication to his responsibilities hides a dark soul and a vicious nature. It was he, not Giacomo, who created the rift in their brotherly affections. Ah, some men are very difficult, my dear, and perhaps it is woman's destiny not to understand their whims!"
Helena closed her eyes and shook her head in private negative. The man her aunt described did not seem to fit Guiseppe. To Helena, he had seemed pensive and shy, but his sudden changes of mood, his angers, had been more emotional than deliberately cruel or basically evil.
"No, no," she finally said. "It was not Guiseppe, I am sure! It was something I did, or said. Could it be that I remind him of someone, another woman perhaps, at whose hands he suffered some huge hurting?"
Maria laughed low and throatily. "My poor naive niece! Stop trying to blame yourself for Guiseppe's long established character! I am sure you do remind him of other women he has had but I assure you, none of them ever hurt him. It would be the other way, believe me! Among the family, we know of many Well, what is done is done, and you are his wife, more pity!"
Helena sat up, suddenly agitated beyond restraint. "I can not believe your inferences, Aunt Maria! Surely he is a decent, righteous man! A man of honor, respected by his friends and associates."
Maria sighed. "Then I needs must convince you of his true character so you may select your course of actions in the future. If you require this proof, we will, a bit later, venture to establish it."
"How is this possible?" Helena asked, freshly frightened by the seeming assurance of her aunt.
"Rest now, and later, I will bring fresh clothes from your wardrobes. There is time because like the timber beast he is, Guiseppe does not ravage until the moon is well up. And in any case, until the castle is silent and the servants have all gone to their quarters! You see, my niece, because I raised the twin brothers, I have long been sensitive and aware of their private foibles. More, I have had, for many years, full access to the darkest secrets of il Castello di Dromeda! I am certain that the proof you need will be available tonight because once his lusts and tempers are aroused, only total exhaustion returns him to the man the world thinks he is."
She sounded so certain, so completely wise that Helena could not help the waves of horror that swept her body from head to foot. Miserable beyond self-succor, she fell back to the bed, her mind unable to follow any thought. But she would, she vowed, follow Maria into any danger if it meant finding the key to Guiseppe's strange behavior. If he could not bend his love to hers, then she would somehow fit hers to his. She could even stand his brutalities if she thought they were expressions of his love because now, as once before, the pains and humiliations did not seem too much to bear.
* * *
Shrouded from top to toe in a darkly hued and hooded cape, Helena stood shivering beside Maria in the bowels of Dromeda. They had descended to the second cellar with only the light of a candle to cast its eerie glow on the stone walls and then, into the broad deep cavern. Her terror was so great it nearly became caressive; she had seen only the weird shapes of strange devices and through the darkness now came low, anguished sobbing. They did not seem to be sobs of pain, but rather of fear and loneliness. Each time Helena had opened her mouth to query her aunt, Maria's hand had closed firmly over her mouth.
This time, her open lips were stopped by a sound that seemed to come from the steep stairway across the chamber. A second later, a light appeared at the mouth of the staircase, flickering, yellow and ghostly. After another breath, the light grew brighter and to Helena's further shock, Guiseppe appeared, carrying a lighted torch. There was no mistaking his handsome face and well-groomed hair, even if she hadn't recognized the dark green velvet suit he wore. From a broad, familiar belt a jeweled poniard in a silver sheath dangled as he walked. The dagger was Austrian a gift to Guiseppe from her father, not a fortnight before.
Her heart surged and she started to step forward but Maria's firm arm held her in the niche in which they stood.
As he approached the center of the room, Helena's eyes widened as the import of the previously only glimpsed devices became obvious. The low ceilinged chamber was truly a den of torture, complete with forge and chains and the vicious accoutrements of an Inquisitional tribunal.
Then as Guiseppe lighted the two torches on either side of the shrine, Helena saw the row of cells, their thickly grilled doors as final as death. The moaning stopped. Guiseppe racked his torch and with movements Helena knew very well, removed his jacket and began to tuck his laced cuffs high. Then he walked to the cells and used a huge brass key similar to the one Maria had possessed, to open one into which he disappeared.
Maria's hand anticipated the scream of horror Helena tried to emit upon Guiseppe's reappearance. Over his shoulder, the torch lighting the small bare shape of her ass and legs, he carried a girl Helena thought could not possibly be over twelve. She twisted and kicked, but Guiseppe's strength would not be tested.
In the middle of the many instruments of agony, he stopped and peered around. Then he reached for a pair of shackles hanging from the stone ceiling by two stout chains. With quick movements, obviously born of practice, he closed the iron bands around the girl's ankles, then with a throaty growl of evil mirth, slid her off of his shoulder. She screamed as the bands bit into her flesh, and her flailing hands struck the floor as she swung. The chains rattled ominously, her cries became choked.
While the naked body jerked and writhed, Helena trembled. The girl was very pretty, with long dark hair and smoothly contoured arms and torso. Her breasts were mere swells in the childish chest. Her struggles showed healthy muscles and her skin glowed whitely in the torch light. As her swinging slowed, Guiseppe moved a lever high above her head and her legs began to open until she hung like a vee.
At the distance, Helena could only see the soft roll of pubic flesh and its fine slit; her own cunt quivered in sympathy with the small one so ruthlessly strained. Half fainting, Helena leaned to Maria and was supported by a strong embracing arm.
Then Guiseppe began to open the front of his trousers and the prick Helena had worked so diligently to please was seemingly unpleasable. It thrust out of the green velvet like a shaft of marble, its dark red helmet shining lewdly. Standing at the girl's back, he stared down into her convulsing crotch and stroked his cock into sharp upstanding, rolling the foreskin with subtle pressures of his fingers.
Each time, Helena winced as the cock head seemed to distend on the shank, nearly as red under the dragged skin as the head itself. Then he used both hands to feel and smooth the strained inner thighs. His thumbs opened the fine slit, rolling the labia back until the small slash showed pink and moist. His head dropped and Helena saw her husband's mouth open wide, tongue out-thrust, mash down over the spread cunt and wallow there as he tasted the illicit delights of her childish sex.
The girl tried to twist and draw up but he held her with brutal grips in the softer flesh of her ass and his frenzy in her cunt seemed to double and redouble. As he sucked and licked, his hips undulated, bumping his cock to the slim back, rubbing it around and sliding it to tease the glans on her smooth skin.
Presently, his head moved and Helena saw his tongue shoot between the plump little nates, search then probe to the small anus which Helena could not see but could vividly imagine. With this, one of Guiseppe's hands went around the slender hips and big fingers dug rudely into the saliva wet cunt. They probed hard, screwing themselves in the defenseless flesh, causing the girl to renew her twisting which only inspired Guiseppe to deeper feeling. His aquiline nose and pursed mouth seemed to be completely wedged between the cheeks and the constrictions of his throat showed Helena how intent his foul caress had become.
Helena discovered then that she was no longer leaning to her aunt. She was standing, feet apart, back slightly bent forward, her head out-thrust so she could see every obscene thing Guiseppe did.
While he sucked and licked the helpless underbody, his cock still battered against the girl's back, his hips curling like a huge dog who could not find the bitch-cunt so avidly needed.
Her half hanging tits hurt with need, her hips described small gyrations timed to fit the knock of Guiseppe's prick to the unresponsive back. Her tongue darted and flailed between painfully dry lips and deep in her womb, the huge emptiness seemed to grow until she felt like one huge hungry cavern. Sweat lubricated the subtle rub of one nate to the other and the ooze of cunt juice became a trickle down her thighs.
Now the girl hung without movement, except from the thrust of Guiseppe's cock. Her fingers half curled in listlessness and her arms seemed only hung in their sockets. Even in the yellow light, her face showed pinkly, the blood having drained downward.
Then Guiseppe raised and stepped back a bit. His right hand went down and curled around the girl's throat, pulling her back until she was arched into a painful distorted arc. Guiseppe then used his other hand to bend her face up, forming nearly a straight line of her mouth and throat. With no hesitation, he rammed his prick into her mouth and on, until the tortured body convulsed with choking. But he did not withdraw, his cock its full thick length in her throat.
He then began the hard jerks and the fierce hunching Helena knew to precede his orgasm, and while the gurgling throat worked in massive distress, Guiseppe's balls knotted and his sperm burst forth. Helena moaned softly as she imagined his jism, driving time after time almost directly into the girl's stomach.
Then Guiseppe's hands began to move her head and throat in a slow frigging of his spending cock. Her hands came up, clutching, scratching at his hard-braced legs. Suddenly, with a laugh of satisfaction, Guiseppe let her go, his cock slipping from her throat with a sloppy sound. The girl's head dropped into swinging, and almost instantly, she vomited, coughing and retching as she fought to keep from drowning in his regurgitated cum and her own belly contents. Then as he had done to Helena, Guiseppe stood in an arched stance and urinated on the thrashing body. The sound of his piss dripping from her back to the stone floor was mixed with his mirth, and then with the girl's hysterical weeping.
"God, God, God!" Helena breathed. "What a horrible brute!"
"Sh-hh! He is not done!" Maria whispered back. "One is never enough for a Dromeda!"
* * *
Giacomo heard the whisperings, first because he expected them and secondly because the torture chamber was acoustically excellent, as if the original Dromedas had anticipated the pleasure of multiplying the agonies of its victims.
He did not turn; simulating his brother's rather ungraceful movements, he unshackled the girl and carried her to the cell, making sure the sleeves of his shirt became wet with his urine and her vomit. In case the stupid Austrian slut thought to check her husband's wardrobe in the morning. He tossed the girl to the foul straw, face down. She writhed in distress and Giacomo forgot his aunt and his sister-in-law. His prick hardened in his grasp and he stroked it gently, exciting himself by irritating the few small rakings her teeth had caused when he dragged his organ from her throat.
Then he fell forward on the small body, feeding his cock to the tight press of her ass. The soft cheeks caressed his throbbing cock and he slid the head up and down the crack, searching for the depressible dimple of her anus. When he found it, he indented it with mild pressure, feeling the pucker crawl under the moist eye of his cock. Then he gripped her hips, sinking his fingers into the softness of her belly and his thumbs into the plump cushions of her ass. With a grunt, he rammed his cock into her ass-hole, twisting and turning as the flesh tore inward and split with instant distention.
The girl's scream was high and long and wavering, ending only when his massive cock was sleeved high in her displaced bowels.
Then she collapsed in a faint of agony.
Giacomo listened, and when he heard the light scuff of feet in the outer chamber, he smiled. His sister-in-law had had her lesson and was being escorted to the upper levels, just as he had instructed Maria to do.
Giacomo inhaled deeply and began to fuck the limp ass. His prick swelled and plunged, feeling the tight nest, spreading it, battering the tender tissues and dragging hard through the stretched anus until it felt as if his foreskin would tear loose. He ran his hands under her waist and gripped deep in the lax muscles of her belly. He tried to feel his cock through the flaccidity of her guts, rooting with extra force when her only response was limpness.
And presently, he decided she was dying and this triggered his orgasm, an explosion of gushing lust that spent him with exquisite ecstasy. He lay hard on the flattened body, feeling his hot jism surge and puddle in her bowel. When he finally reared, his half soft cock came out of her ass-hole trailing strings of jism and blood which he made sure stained his brother's velvet trousers.
Later, he carried the girl to the well and lifted the stone plug. He kicked the limp girl over, knowing that if she were not dead then, she would be in a matter of seconds. He heard the body bounce from stone wall to stone wall as it hurtled downward. Then the splash.
He sighed. It had been a most enjoyable night, from many viewpoints.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By mid-afternoon of the following day, the massive shock had broken itself down into endless small horrors, one of them being Maria's calm attitude toward Guiseppe's fiendish games.
"Well, dear Helena, they are not quite as fiendish as they seem. You see, the girl was probably rented from her parents, or for some ducats, agreed to go with Guiseppe. When he is tired of her, he will undoubtedly send her home. It isn't that he wants to destroy her, or any of the others he has brought to the castle torture chambers. It is only that he finds great personal pleasure in pretending that she is entirely at his mercy, and whatever he wants to do, he does. I often thought in the past, and perhaps tonight, that the girl suffers more than she bargained for, but youth is resilient and soon heals from the rigors of Guiseppe's passions," Maria had said.
"He he seemed almost out of his mind with lust!" Helena had persisted.
"Well, did not you, yourself, suffer his peculiar rages and lusts on two separate occasions?"
A dozen more terrifying conditions were answered with equal aplomb, and Helena began to get a fuller picture of the family into which she had married. Compared to the von Fabrings, the Dromedas seemed hardly more than barbarians, with special talents in the world of sexual extremes.
Then the familar curling came to her belly and Helena realized that except for Guiseppe's acts in the torture chamber and Giacomo's lashing of the two servant girls, she had accepted, and adored, really, every instance of lewdness that had been presented to her. And as she thought about it, she had been thrilled by Giacomo's whip and excited by her husband's brutal treatment of the little girl.
As her revulsion melted, her excitement increased. Snug and secure in Maria's apartment, with the suggestive nudes and mirrors lining the walls, Helena let her mind sneak back to several of the most erotic moments; she winced deliciously as she remembered the servant girls' tit tips disappearing in a bloody spray and her cunt twitched as she recalled Guiseppe's mouth closing down into the hanging child's crotch, his prick thumping her back as if to create a new hole. And when she thought of how he had bent her up and rammed his huge cock into her mouth and throat, Helena flushed furiously from thigh to throat. Even the girl lying on the floor vomiting his jism and her stomach contents was oddly exciting.
Toward evening, Maria became softer and more personal. They sat close in intimate embrace and Maria talked boldly of her experiences with men until Helena was trembling with need for more than talk. But it was not until after they had enjoyed a quiet supper together that Maria seemed to be disposed to make a physical move.
"I have talked to Guiseppe," she announced following a brief trip to the castle kitchens. "He seems quite angry with you, my dear. He has agreed to let you stay here with me until suitable apartments can be set up for you. I'm afraid, Helena, that all pretense of love and marriage has evaporated. You are Guiseppe's wife, but he is content to play the game in name only a most important item to a man of his political ambitions!"
Helena burst into tears, the tiny hope she had tried to maintain now totally destroyed. Maria held her close, her fine hands moving over Helena's trembling body in soothing. When she opened Helena's bodice and began to mold and massage her breasts, Helena sighed and gave herself over to the masterful caresses.
"Yes, yes, dear Maria!" she panted. "If I am to never know my husband again, then I need you need your love, your hands, your kisses and your oh, dear God, am I to spend the rest of my life worshipping leather and rubber things? Maria, Maria! What am I going to do?"
"We will undress, my darling, and make love. There is nothing to cure grief as valuable as new excitements!"
"Oh yes, yes!"
The moment they were both naked and embracing on Maria's bed, Helena was surprised at how much better she felt. Now she didn't want to forget; it was easy to close her eyes and imagine Maria's hands were Guiseppe's, that the coarse black hair of her aunt's hunching cunt was really growing on Guiseppe's groin, bumping furiously to her silken muff.
There was little resemblance between the plump rounds of Maria's ass and Guiseppe's hard muscular forms, but with only a little effort, she could believe it was Guiseppe's finger in her ass-hole, not Maria's. Whimpering, kissing with open mouths and darting tongues, they rolled together, flesh molding to flesh, heat melting them together in violent passions, then after her first orgasm, her cunt mashed to Maria's, Helena began to cry. "The pricks, the pricks!" she gasped. "I have to have the prick, Maria! I must have it in me, cudgelling, stretching, filling me! My God, I am losing my mind!"
"No, my darling. Rest a moment I will bring the love you require I shall give you peace and contentment like you have never known before!"
Gasping, her whole being seeming to crowd down around her forsaken vagina, Helena lay on her back, arms and legs outstretched, her mind wrapped fiercely around the memory of Guiseppe's cock, coursing in the unappreciative throat of the gasping, writhing little girl.
* * *
She heard the heavy breath first, and it came to her ears like a winter wind. Then the hands, huge and strong and not at all like Maria's. Pummeled by a half night and a day of shock and terror and incompletely defined desire, Helena let one dream slip pleasantly into another. The hands now were sliding over and around her body, the fingers moving to small delights, and then to her throbbing tits and the shape of their quivering. The breathing was above her now; she could feel the heat but because it was surely a dream, she did not open her eyes, lest the hairy flesh now moving over hers would disappear. She opened her legs and the dream weight moved in, wedging her thighs, lying heavily on her belly.
She thought, dear Guiseppe, fuck me now, and as if he'd heard her, the dream shape became searching, and presently, Helena felt the hot bold head of the phantom cock nudge to her oozing cunt. Whimpering happily, she opened her legs until the joints seemed ready to crack, then the lips of her cunt folded sweetly around the pressing shape and it became a huge prick, blazing hot and massive beyond her fondest hopes. She felt her cunt resist, and with a slow hard squirming, she freed the constriction and gulped in a massive segment of the exquisite intruder.
Her mind whirled dizzily, pleasantly at the totality of her dream. It was so real, so heavenly, even to the feel of Guiseppe's balls, now slapping to her spraddled ass as the thrust went deep and splitting, opening her belly like a waiting flower bud. The familiar scent of sweat and body ferment came to her flared nostrils, the same as she had smelled it after his long ride from Vicenza. Helena shuddered, then forgot everything but the glorious bigness, coursing now in her starving cunt. Every alien thought faded from her senses as she began to fuck back at the marvelous dream.
It seemed to her that Guiseppe grew in every way; the cock inside her was like a ram, a great thick limb of a rough-barked tree, and the body crushing down, pressing her ass into the bed, was so heavy as to flatten her belly and tits like a gigantic stone. Despite this, he was handling her, moving her legs up and out, massive fingers gripping into her thighs, causing a pain that moved down to the apex of her ecstasy and joining with the throb of her inflamed cunt.
She raised her hands, tentatively feeling for the big square shoulders, afraid to become too possessive lest the dream fade and end her pleasure. She sighed with happiness when the mountain of hairy flesh only shifted and intensified the brutally delicious thrusting.
Certain now, that the dream was securely locked in her possession, Helena closed her arms around the shifting shoulders and sought the face above hers. It was there, an open mouth, a mass of saliva and the feel of fiery breath through harshly nasal passages. She kissed hard, then deep, her tongue searching for Guiseppe's, her whole being trying to crawl into the gaping cavern. She laughed gurglingly into the mouth and her mind, certain of its phantom excursion into passion, thought of lewd things. She searched for and found a big strong wrist, moving it down and under her bounding ass. The hand asserted itself and felt heavily for the crack between her nates.
Helena moaned and drew her legs up until they caught under the sweating, hair-grown armpits. She felt a finger at her anus and she increased the roll and jerk of her hips to increase the pressure and when it wormed its way into her ass-hole, she yelped with pleasure and screwed herself down on the thick, wriggling intruder.
The finger pushed deep and began to roll around in the happy tube. Helena mewled and panted, her whole being aflame with the fierce tensions of her love. Somewhere in her brain there was glee; without moving a muscle or disturbing her flesh, she was fucking and being fucked by a dream and except that the body was Guiseppe's, she felt that never again would she need her husband nor any other man.
In a second moment of partial clarity, she blessed Maria, who was probably the hand behind the huge instrument in her cunt and the finger in her ass-hole. Riding high on the plateau of pure ecstasy, Helena fucked to suit herself, small subtle gyrations of her ass, one or two hard hunches, a hesitation as the sensations piled and spread in her womb, then a quick fluttering series of jerks that attacked the prick and the surging finger with every nerve and stricture she could summon to the fucking.
Now she felt the cock swelling and thickening inside her and the finger pushing deeper in her ass-hole. She sensed the way huge weights of flesh were moving on her body and the breath on her face became faster and hotter. She thought it odd that a dream could build to an orgasm but her own tensions were building and spreading, then knotting and her cunt seemed to vomit flame out around the plunging prick. Helena let the cry of ecstasy flow up through her saliva filled lips.
Her legs stiffened, her back curled and with a final fury, she humped her cunt up around the thick penis, then jerked her ass down to get the full length of the squirming finger in her anus. While her orgasm pumped, she moaned and slobbered and thrashed her head from side to side. Her womb seemed to explode and then descend to milk and drag at the massive prick distending in her cunt.
"Ahgh-ahagh! Guiseppe, I love you, love you, love you!" she wailed. "Ah, God, my husband, kill me with your wonderful cock!"
Then she collapsed, letting her legs fall and her arms slip away from the muscular shoulders. She waited for the dream to end, and it did not end. She felt the prick, still ramming, the finger still plunging and then she felt the jism hit the apex of her happy cunt. It was hot and might have been soothing except that the huge prick seemed determined to split her open, to tear her as widely as a bolt of lightning.
She screamed and opened her eyes. Her nose accepted another scent; the odor of snuffed candles. But there was enough moonlight seeping through the high narrow windows for her to see the head and hunched bulk working above her. She screamed again and the very real shape grunted unintelligibly.
"My God, no, no!" she gasped, but Toli did not stop hunching between her legs until his cum was spent and her cunt was flooded with his bounteous jism.
* * *
Suddenly, Helena didn't care. She knew how ugly he was and she could smell his filthy skin and unwashed crannies. His breath was sour and she suspected the finger in her ass-hole to be having its first wash in a long time. But his prick was filling her, his belly crushing on hers and the hair on his broad chest wiped her nipples excitingly. And her mind could remember how his huge cock had opened and distended Calina's cunt and caused her maid to moan in carnal delight.
Somehow, Maria had arranged this rape, this mad dream which had turned out to be very real; hysterical laughter bubbled from Helena's throat. She had screamed for a prick and her aunt had furnished a glorious one, a long hot thick one that knew its way into a woman's womb, and sensed the need of a grasping cunt. She could feel it lying in the pool of sperm deep in her vagina. It was neither rubber nor leather and it could appreciate. Helena moved her ass, a subtle rolling that instantly made her glow with renewing sensations. She slipped a hand down between their bellies and her fingers found the round shaft, the sturdy, still hard base of the rampant organ. She pushed her legs out and drew them up, pressing now along his big hips. She sent her fingers down around his cock, felt of his updrawn balls, then went to his fingers, now burrowing deeper into her rectum.
"Fuck me there," she whispered to the gray shape above her face. "Toli, fuck me there, you, you peasant!"
The grunt came strongly. To prove her eagerness, Helena raised her head and found his mouth with hers. Then she sought his missing tongue and hers found the frayed lobes of his lacerated throat. After a moment, he grunted into her mouth and reared away, leaving her cunt gasping, abruptly cold.
Helena contracted her belly and felt the thick trickle of sperm ooze down and out, soaking the crack of her ass and soothing her finger-ruffled anus. Toli lifted her and she knew what he wanted. Her legs and arms came to life and she turned over, rearing her waving rump high on spraddled knees. Her tits were heavy with passionate blood, her ass-hole tingled and winked, suddenly so demanding Helena wanted to scream.
It was not a dream and reality was better. She turned her head and could only make out his general shape. He stood, frigging his cock into full life. Helena pivoted and seized the organ from his fingers. She sent her mouth over it with lips pursed, causing him to grunt with the pressure of her greed. She licked the head, her taste buds reveling in the musky flavor and her fingers worked his sticky foreskin until the huge knob in her mouth became larger and harder. When it seemed to be beyond enlargement, she turned again and reared her ass back, panting with her belly to flutter her nates to him.
Then Helena felt him grip her thighs and a Second later, the bold blunt head of his rigid cock nudged between the cheeks of her ass. Mewling impatiently, she reached back under her belly and found his cock with her fingers. It was gigantic, larger even than it had felt in her cunt. It seemed far huger than Guiseppe's, and thusly, far more exciting. She knew it was much too big for her rectum yet she had to have it, had to feel the pain, had to know the cruel filling. She rubbed the knob into her dribbling cunt, then placed it to her ass-hole. With a cry of eagerness, she pushed back and Toli rammed. Her second screech was one of true pain as the monstrous organ opened her rectum with ruthless force. Stunned, stiffened by the surging cock, Helena began to cry with delicious pain.
And suddenly the room seemed to explode with yellow light. Helena's head twisted, her eyes wide and momentarily unseeing but only for a second.
Standing in the arched door leading into Maria's sitting room was her husband, a lantern held high in his left hand, his right hand gripping the hilt of a long, thin-bladed rapier. His face was a mask of rage. He shouted an unintelligible curse and lunged.
A man less animal in his mentality might have saved himself; Toli stared. His body was in a half crouch, his massive prick buried to the balls in Helena's ass-hole, now gripped tightly as her fear tensed every muscle and tendon. The sound of the rapier piercing Toli's belly from the side was like the rustle of a bird's wing. He grunted and half screamed. The cock in her back hole jerked out, and Helena's fear turned to hatred and then to rage. Guiseppe jerked his sword from the spitted Toli and he drew his arm back for another spearing thrust. Helena pivoted on the bed, screaming incoherently.
But Toli was not so easily dead. As Guiseppe lunged a second time, the giant mute, his belly spurting blood, jerked and the blade missed his body. He caught Guiseppe in two claw-shaped hands and they went spinning down, kicking and flailing. The lantern flew from Guiseppe's hand, bounced away on Maria's thick Oriental rug and made a small pool of flame.
like an angry crab, Helena scrambled across the bed and came to the floor, her legs spread. The two men were struggling but it was obvious that Guiseppe was subduing the naked, well perforated Toli.
Blind fury half blacked out Helena's senses. She stooped and picked up Guiseppe's discarded rapier and with a high shriek of hysteria, she gripped the sword hilt with both hands and sent the needle point straight into Guiseppe's back. So great was her unreasonable hate of him that she seemed stronger than Juno; the blade went through his body and on. She had orgasm as her husband screamed in death; she crouched, arms kinked, her fingers clawed as if to leap on Guiseppe and rip his body to shreds.
Then with some understanding she was not aware of, she jerked the cover from Maria's bed and hurled it over the weak oil flame on the carpet. The room was plunged into instant darkness but Helena stood, weeping and quivering and praying, her urine trickling down between her trembling legs, her disappointed ass-hole clutching vainly to restrain her rectal emission. Finally, she fell forward over the dying bodies, now pinned together by the fury of her sword thrust. God surely hated her, she moaned, because the only two men her hungry body had ever known now lay dying under her writhing flesh. Then once again the room was flooded with light and she heard startled, familiar voices.
When she twisted, the first person she saw was Giacomo, sword in hand, and behind him, Maria and Taurina. Helena scrambled to her feet, panic stricken at the looks upon the Dromeda faces. Then she cupped her left breast up and pointed it directly at Giacomo.
"Spit me well and true, brother-in-law," she said. "I have just murdered your brother, my husband! May his soul burn in eternal Hell for what he has done to me!"
But Giacomo only laughed. Then Maria laughed, as did Taurina.
* * *
Once more, Maria led her through the wine cellar and down into the dark darkness of the torture chamber, but this time they were not alone and there was no secret about their journey. Taurina led with a high held lantern. Behind them, Giacomo's boots scuffed the worn stone steps. Terror was Helena's only garment; her hands were tied securely at her back riding over the roll and bobble of her bare bottom. She felt none of the cold nor dampness, nor very little else. Her mind seemed departed from her body and she could only move as Maria guided. There was no doubt in her stunned wits that the Dromedas were leading her to a vengeance of their own, and that death was very near.
On the floor of the torture chamber, she swept the many weird and frightening devices with questioning eyes, trying to guess which of the deadly instruments they would use to destroy her, then Maria steered her to the row of cells. Giacomo unlocked one the one next to the cubicle that had held the little girl. Maria pushed her in and Helena's feet felt the bed of dirty straw. The door slammed, the lock clicked, and only then did Helena realize that her death was not their immediate aim .
"What what is to happen to me, Maria?" she quavered.
"We will consider this among the family, murderess," Maria replied with cold tones. "But first there is the matter of your husband. We cannot have such a scandal as murder and a profligate wife among the Dromedas. We will arrange to have it appear and be known far and wide that Guiseppe lost his life in a quarrel with a mute and vicious servant. There will be much mourning, a Requiem Mass and certain legal transpositions. Throughout this, it will be reported that you have returned to Venice, in deep grief and proper mourning. After that-"
"Maria! Why does Giacomo not kill me now? My God! This place! I will freeze! I will starve! My hands are tied-"
Then Giacomo appeared on the other side of the grilled door. "Turn, bitch, and present your foul ass!"
Trembling, almost hoping that he meant to thrust his rapier through her suffering body, Helena turned, her head bowed, her heart racing with anticipation. But the rapier did not touch her flesh; it snicked the cords binding her wrist, and then she was alone, in total darkness, with only the sound of slowly retreating feet to emphasize the depths of her despair.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Time lost its meaning; there was no light in the chamber except when the tall, blade-faced Taurina brought food and a cup of watered wine. After three of these feedings, Helena gave up trying to talk to her strange cousin by marriage, and because she slept miserably and wailed for long periods of time between each feeding, Helena assumed she had passed three days, hovering in terror and physical agony, hoping for death but clinging valiantly to life. She could not think because all of her energy went into trying to keep her filthy, trembling body warm, and her senses were constantly battered by the odor of her toilet in one corner of the cell.
Then, on what she thought was the fourth day, the scurry of rat feet preceded the slow, scuffing tread of descending doom. Helena moved feebly to the grilled iron door and stared across the torture chamber to where the dungeon stairs showed strong yellow light.
A foremost hooded figure was tall and thin and Helena knew that it was Taurina. Behind her was a rounder, thicker body in a black shroud and the bold shapes at breast and hip could belong only to Maria. There was no mistaking the square shoulders and slight swagger of the third figure. The Dromedas, clad in monkish garments, had come to exact their family dues.
They moved slowly and deliberately. Four torches in iron wall brackets were lighted, as if to be certain that whatever they planned to do to her would be starkly obvious to all who watched. Five fat altar candles were lighted in front of the dusty shrine.
To Helena, the quiet trio was more horrifying than any of the hundred fears she had nurtured during her endless hours of captivity. She had no doubt that they came as executioners, having already been gaolers and judges. She closed her eyes and tried to pray; failing to make sensible prayer, she opened her eyes and they were coming for her. With perverse willingness to end her suffering, Helena stood while Giacomo unlocked the cell door and when Taurina and Maria each seized an arm, Helena did not struggle or cringe. They spoke no word until she was in front of the shrine.
"Kneel and pray for yourself, Helena Von Fabring Dromeda!" Giacomo commanded. "Your crime is monstrous and your judgment passed. Seek peace with God because your body and your soul will never find it on this earth!"
Taurina and Maria forced her down, her knees paining on the cold stone floor. Then they released her and Helena huddled, her mind abruptly clearing. Even in the face of doom, she was conscious of her nakedness. Her tits hung heavily, pulsing with illogical excitement. Her unwashed crotch tingled with perverse sensation and in her tightly bent ass there were compelling tensions. Fever flushed her flesh; she felt exactly as she had felt the first night of her marriage, with Guiseppe advancing on her helpless body with rampant prick and the lust light in his eyes.
Death then, she thought, was like the brutal, bloody and agonizing transition from virgin to wife; she closed her eyes and waited for the cock of death and all of her feeling seemed to crowd down and crush around her abruptly weeping cunt.
But the mythical prick did not come. From behind, her ankles were seized and jerked roughly back, skidding her knees on the stone until her abruptly up-flung body toppled forward. Startled and afraid, Helena tumbled forward, her naked body smacking down on the relentless stone with a loud noise. Her tits squashed and she screamed in agony, then her face slammed to the floor and she lay stunned while the hands dragged her, belly and tits and face scraping along the rough stones, leaving small flecks of blood as the skin abraised and turned scarlet. The chamber echoed and re-echoed with her shrieks of agony; the fuzzy, half-consciousness that had dulled her thoughts for several days bloomed into full awareness.
Then hands lifted her and she was slammed to a vertical frame. A broad iron belt snapped closed around her belly, pinching her severely as it was clamped. Her wrists were similarly secured, arms up and out and then her ankles. When she conquered her pain sufficiently to open her eyes, she discovered that she was shackled to a huge wooden cross which rested on two of its equally long timbers. And to her surprise, Giacomo, Maria and Taurina were gleamingly naked. While she had knelt in useless prayer, they had divested themselves of the hooded robes, obviously the only garments they had worn.
* * *
She stared at Giacomo, standing with feet apart, his back arched and his hand caressing the hugest cock she had ever seen. It thrust from his hairy belly like a massive pole, the broad purplish head aimed directly at her opened crotch as it was half swallowed then fully revealed by the rolling slide of his thick foreskin.
It was meaty and oddly alive and as she burned it with her eyes, the long bloody scratches and abrasions on her body turned to delicious fire.
Her bruised tits swelled to their normal fullness and the nipples ached with hardness. She forgot that she was cold and hungry and frightened as she weighed his bloated balls and measured the muscular strain of his hunching body. The beauty of his cock turned her misery to furious longing; death had seemed so near and now before her eyes was the symbol of heaven. A gasp of need escaped her lips, and Giacomo laughed.
He moved close and let the eye of his cock move over her outstretched thighs, tracing a minute moisture path over the white skin. He touched her belly with the hot knob, then teasingly moved his cock down to rub and press the hairy round of her pubic mound. His warmth bounced against her body, his odor was sweetly musky and Helena writhed to move her jiggling tits aside so she could watch the course of his prick over her flesh.
She was sure he was going to fuck her, to death perhaps, because she couldn't imagine any woman being able to absorb the mighty organ and live, either through unmanageable joy or mortal wounding of her parts. She squirmed in the belly bond, trying to move her crotch so the tantalizing cock could touch her quaking cunt lips. Until Taurina and Maria laughed at her frustrations, she had forgotten they were watching.
Ashamed but unable to control the unreasonable desires throbbing in her belly, Helena moaned, "Yes, yes! You must, you must!"
The response of laughter seemed the cruelest sound she had ever heard.
Now Giacomo stepped back and turned and the fleshless shape of Taurina's nakedness moved into his embrace. Her bony legs parted and Giacomo's cock was caught in the high, wide space between her thighs, the head of his prick peeking from between the flabby cheeks of her thin ass. She put her arms loosely about his shoulders, and then they began a loveless, intensely animated dance of hips. The head of Giacomo's cock moved dryly in her crotch, pressing up tightly and making a sound so lewd Helena nearly swooned with excitement.
Then she saw the gleam of wet as Taurina's cunt oozed impatient moisture on the thick shaft sawing in her distended labia. Helena's breath stuck in her throat; she knew that Taurina had only to rise on her bony toes and Giacomo needed only to kink his stalwart legs and the beautiful cock would disappear in the scrawny body. But they seemed to be content with their obscene rubbing, then Maria came forward and knelt at her daughter's ass. Her lushly bulbous body was a mass of trembling as she pushed her face forward and opened her mouth. Her thumbs came up to spread the flapping cheeks and with a swiftly vicious lurch, Maria caught Giacomo's prick in her full red lips. Her face seemed half buried between Taurina's nates, her hands went to the high hip bones to still and guide the tall girl's undulations and Giacomo let his hands slide down Taurina's back to hold his aunt's head to the three way connection.
Helena began to cry. Her body crawled with tiny streaks of fiery lightning. Her cunt opened and she could feel the lips swelling in false joining with the lewd bodies in front of her. She pulled uselessly at her wrists, her tits screaming for hard milking fingers. Between spasmodic inhalations, her lips formed as Maria's were formed and her mouth filled with saliva.
Then Taurina began to moan and mewl and Giacomo held her tightly and increased the speed and fury of his undulations. The thin body curled, trying to push itself into his, and her head went down so her forehead rested on his shoulder. Helena felt Taurina's every passion; her own vagina burned with friction, her clitoris swelled and searched for the unsubtle rubbing of Giacomo's surging prick.
Suddenly, Taurina cried out and with a quick jerk, leaped up to throw her corded legs around Giacomo's waist. For a moment, Helena saw the full length of the gleaming organ, then Maria's head plunged forward to absorb as much of it in her burbling throat as was possible. Slowly, then, she let it slip away, her lips leaving many drops of saliva on the jerking prick. With one hand, Maria tipped Giacomo's cock up and up until the broad head snugged to Taurina's rectum. Her back curled to change the angle and with a gurgling laugh, she dropped her lean weight down as Giacomo lurched up, the penetration being quick and sure, guided by Maria's firm grip.
Helena winced and gasped, then let her ass describe a small grinding as the huge cock went screwing up into Taurina's ass-hole. The impaled girl groaned and seemed to collapse, her long thin body jerking in furious orgasm. In magnificant sympathy, Helena's rectum sucked in then pursed out, and she wailed with need for just one touch, one small tickling, one fragment of piercing. She twisted and jerked until the agony of the iron bands at wrist, ankle and belly blended with the impact of what she watched, and her own cum was suddenly a series of hard knotting thumps and her cunt streamed with released fluids. She sagged, swimming in relief, fighting instant weariness and barely retarded exhaustion.
She heard them laughing at her, but it did not matter to Helena. They moved in her glazed eyesight as white shapes, comprised of lines and bulbs and sweetly dark places of secret beauties. Then in a moment of clarity, Helena realized what the Dromedas were doing to her. A sense of sick guilt flooded her vibrating body; they knew her better than she had known herself.
There was, after all, a limit to physical pain, a point at which merciful blackness could blot out the cuts and bruises and the agonies of displaced joints. Around them were many devices for inflicting pain in many devastating ways. She stared at Giacomo's bloated prick, the most painful device of them all. Maria was fondling it, adding to its length and girth and hardness with all the soft talent of her clever fingers. As she molded the corded shank and frigged the heavy foreskin, the agony returned to Helena's belly and she screamed.
"An emotional one, I should judge," Maria laughed. "Dear Giacomo, will you fuck me next? I find the feel of your insatiable prick to arouse certain contingencies in my long unfucked cunt! I long for the delightful filling only such a penis can satisfy, and I am wont to inhale your jism with every fibre of my building passion. I would-"
Helena quivered, hearing the foul words, imagining their enactment, anticipating each suggested ecstasy even as she understood the vile humor of her tormentors. Awareness of their intent only increased her inner desires, her physical distress. It did no good to turn her head or close her eyes. The soft sounds of flesh on flesh, of small gasps and subdued grunts of pleasure only caused her eyes to burn with the need to see.
Taurina had retired to a dark corner to relieve her bowel; Giacomo stood in a lewd crouch, feeling of Maria's luscious body with rudely violent but exciting fingers and she fondled his cock against her belly and hairy crotch with obscene talent.
Then Taurina returned and as if she were well practiced in the plan, spread the discarded robes on the stone floor, directly in front of Helena. like lovers, Giacomo and Maria settled downward, their bodies never losing contact. Giacomo came to rest on his back, his opened crotch to Helena, his cock seeming to lengthen magnificently as she viewed the manner of its attachment to his under body. His huge scrotum, puffed with unspent sperm appeared like a lovely growth on the long thick arc of his total prick which seemed to start at the-haired pucker of his anus and jut forward and on until it snugged into Maria's softly coursing hand.
Panting with approaching hysteria, Helena stared at Maria's voluptuous body and the impact was hardly less than that of Giacomo's exposure. Her big bottom was plump and jiggling, partially spread as she raised one leg to cross her nephew's thighs. Her big cunt, gleaming from the tantalizing caress of his fingers, hung in twin ropes of purplish fat, the black hair growing to the slowly parting slash.
Helena moaned in memory of having kissed and licked the exquisite beauty, and abruptly, she could hardly wait to see the way Giacomo's cock opened and sloshed into the hot sleeve of Maria's sex. In anticipation of the marvelous entry, Helena began to work her hips within the limitations of her shackles. But when Maria did complete her straddling of Giacomo's hips, the huge prick thrusting up to lie momentarily in the cradle of her ass cheeks was so exciting, Helena fought the headiness of an approaching faint. Sick with want, it seemed to her that she was both cock and cunt, each straining for the other, each throbbing with massive desire to become one.
Then Maria raised her ass and with soft undulations, began to search for the blood-filled knob of Giacomo's prick. Helena's jaw dropped, her tongue came out and moved questioningly from up to down and from side to side.
Then as Giacomo found Maria's vulva, Helena's tongue shot out until she nearly gagged, and a shudder of surrender ran down her trussed body as the huge prick slipped softly and smoothly into the spasmodically clutching vagina. When Maria jerked, the long pulsing column completely buried in her sex, Helena jerked in unison, feeling the thump against her own womb mouth. Then the two bodies began to roll in fleshy waves, the massive prick slipping in and out and around the distended vulva, distorting the rubbery flesh with sloshing probes. Rising in Helena's throat on the end of every breath were small sounds of anguish, timed now to the grunts and moans from Maria. The heavy, bobbing hips became frenzied, rolling, biting down and lifting up with ever increasing speed.
Under Maria, Giacomo's strong body hunched and twisted, as if he could anticipate each frantic need of the thrashing body into which he fucked. Taurina had knelt and was bowed in a thin, quivering arch over the violent meshing of her mother and her cousin, one bony hand wandering to test the tensions and distentions of the hot union.
Helena knew it was coming before the aching fire in her belly was fully concentrated. She gathered sensation, nursed it and teetered on the brief plateaus of ascending passion, her soul crying for one feathery touch, one brief instant of reality. Her mind became a cunt the one under her avid eyes now being rammed and bloated with the gigantic cock that seemed to be growing with every plunge. She felt each ripple of gripping flesh, each detail of the sleek ram, and her heart replied to the wet whispers of its sawing.
When Maria screamed in ecstasy, Helena screamed, saliva running from her mouth and urine from her bladder. She rode into blackness on the lovely prick that seemed to fill her thundering cunt like the body of a charging stallion.
* * *
They moved in a loose triangle, Giacomo being the trailing apex, a torch held high in his right hand to throw light on the faltering body crawling aimlessly on the stone floor. To his right, his aunt's breath came in harsh rushes as she watched Helena search for some strange shape with her groping, gripping hand.
To his left, Taurina, a slender naked shape, controlled her excitement with a thin hand clamped over her mouth. Then Giacomo laughed with a low, throaty glee; ahead of Helena's naked body, moving on all fours, was a square black void in the stone floor. He moved closer to her naked rump, his mind exulting in the anticipation of final cruelty. And when Helena came to the edge of the hole, he stooped swiftly and with adept brutality, rammed the handle of the torch into her ass-hole. Her screech of agony continued even after she had plunged forward into the abandoned well.
Leaning, Giacomo watched the torch wave and turn, lighting the descent of Austrian slut's flailing body. The light and the screaming continued for what seemed endless seconds, then the inevitable splash ended both.
The final upsurge of darkness and silence convulsed Giacomo Galetia Dromeda and his massive, unvented prick vomited jism into the pit of death. He stood, shuddering with pleasure and satisfaction while his aunt and his cousin wept with frustration over such unpurposed waste of Dromeda sperm.
