BV-119  Inquisitor's Slave


FOREWORD

I had never been in such profound solitude. Somewhere in the dim distance,
I could hear the skittering of rats' feet, and I shuddered.

I was manacled in chains to the wall, and I had visions of the rats
approaching me, nibbling off my toes, working their way up my naked
body.

The sound of the bolt being pulled open on the massive, brass-studded door,
for all it might threaten me, was a relief.

A golden shaft of light flowed into the dark dungeon, glinting off the metal
shafts of torture instruments, outlining the rack ominously, and revealing
the blood-stained straw on the stone floor.

Two hooded men walked into the room bearing torches, which they set in
sconces on the stone wall.

They lit two more torches, and then I could discern the third man who had
come in with them. It was the chief questioner of the inquisition, Brother
Rudolph!

My mouth went dry with fear, as he approached me.

"You are accused by the inquisition of fornicating with heathens, heresy,
and other unnatural behaviors," Brother Rudolph intoned. "You have
steadfastly denied all the allegations. Now I am going to ascertain the truth
of at least one of them."

With that, the awesome cleric lifted his soutane.

I gasped! His cock was fully erect, and throbbing with the lusty blood
which had swelled it.
He hooked his hands under my knees, and pulled them up so that my legs
straddled his waist.

I was sweating. This cleric was going to rape me, and he would find out the
truth which I had been denying: I wasn't a virgin.

And I would bum for having given in to my lusts!

My heart was pounding violently as I stared at his erect manhood. What
was I going to do?


CHAPTER ONE

If I hadn't been so head-strong, it wouldn't have happened to me. I wouldn't
have been disowned by my parents. I wouldn't have been brought before the
inquisition. I wouldn't have suffered such fearful adventures.

But then, if I hadn't been so willful and head-strong, I never would have
seen Rome, and learned what I did about the Vatican.

There are good priests and bad priests, as my grandmother says, just as
there are good Christians and bad Christians, and since the church is for
sinners, who are we to cast blame?

Unfortunately, my grannie's merciful, sweet-tempered sentiments are
exactly what opened the Pandora's box. I was fond of quoting those
sentiments and one day I made the mistake of quoting them in front of
Abbe Pierre, who was a cruel and very stem priest. But that is getting ahead
of my story.

I was born and raised in the village of Medoc, in France. My father was a
prosperous wine grower. I do not think my mother and father were very
happy together. I was their only child.

My mother was fanatically religious, and she spent at least several hours of
every day in church, leaving my grandmother, and later, as I grew, me, to
care for the house and do the cooking.
I am more like my grandmother, who was a lovely, high-spirited wench. I
was, too, and suffered hours of punishment for my obstreperous ways. I was
always getting into some kind of trouble.

I was almost fourteen, when it occurred to me that I could sow my wild oats
outside the house, and away from the repressive attention of my parents.
My grandmother seemed to think that my high spirits were normal. My
mother insisted that I had the devil in me, and she frequently gave me
enemas to purge me. My father thought I behaved like a witch.

Once I discovered that the fields and woods surrounding the village were
ideal places to run and yell and do as I pleased, I would escape to them as
frequently as possible, being careful never to be late for meals or chores or
prayers.

It was an ideal situation for me, and my parents never missed my presence
in the house. I also became very acquainted with many of the young boys in
the neighborhood.

There was Marie, who herded sheep all day, which I thought was an ideal
life, and Joseph, the local schoolmaster's son, who taught me to read and
instructed me in the mysteries of deciphering maps and sums. He was quite
skilled, and I learned easily. I, of course, didn't have to go to school, and,
free of the onerous discipline, learning was fun. In addition to the pleasure
of the learning was the knowledge that, at the end of two years, I had
acquired a skill which only two other women in the village possessed.

Even my mother and grandmother couldn't read!

Also joining us in our play were Michel, who was the son of the local
baron, and Pierre, whose father was the smithy.

I was the only girl. Girls weren't supposed to run wild and free the way I
did. Even when I first discovered the group of playmates who were my
boon companions for several years, I knew it wasn't quite proper, and it
wasn't until I reached puberty that I found out why.
Naturally, playing with the young boys the way I did, I learned the facts of
life early, although I was quite careful never to inform my grandmother or
my parents of my unseemly knowledge.

And then it all came to end, quite abruptly. I had always been very careful
not to attract the attention of an adult, for fear of my wild ways being
curbed, but one particular afternoon, I was sitting under a large oak tree,
reading with Joseph, when Abbe Pierre came upon us.

He was so irate that I thought he would box my ears. He dragged me to my
home, and quite literally threw me at the feet of my mother who was
carding wool by the fireplace.

"I found this disgraceful harridan sitting alone with Joseph!" the abbe said,
or rather bellowed at my mother. I thought he would have a fit of apoplexy.
His face was scarlet, and his eyes were popping out of his head!

"Is it your habit to leave your daughter unchaperoned, to let her run through
the fields like a little animal. She's ugly! Look at her, how brown she is,
how tangled her hair!"

I was rubbing my elbow, which the abbe Pierre had bruised from the brutal
tightness of his grasp. To that hurt was added my mother's ire.

"Now, by my troth, is that how you reward me for my labors in rearing
you?" my mother shrieked, cuffing me so hard on my ear that my head
rang,

My mother looked servilely at the cruel abbe, and almost bowed from the
waist, as she apologized to him.

"She-she must have sneaked out of the house, Abbe. I am nearly distraught
with her. She is so rowdy in her behavior," my mother said.

"I know that!" the abbe said. He hadn't lowered his voice at all! "I see her
squirming in church at services. She had better be careful or the devil will
come during the night and take her away!"
With that, he fixed his angry eyes on me. I shuddered. I wasn't quite sure if
the devil would take me away. I didn't think my behavior was bad, but my
parents did.

"You watch her, and mind her well," the abbe said, shaking his forefinger at
my mother.

"She will be properly confined, Abbe Pierre," my mother said.

My heart sank! To be confined to the house! To have to behave like other
girls! The idea appalled me.

For the next two weeks, I pined in the house, longing for the freedom of the
fields, the warmth of the sun, the breezes and the feel of the soft rain on my
face. I would stare out my window, looking for a trace of my friends.

And then one afternoon, after I had started to bake some bread, I heard a tap
on the kitchen window.

It was Joseph. I leaned out the window and talked to him. He had missed
me from the group who played. I felt singularly honored that a boy would
miss a mere girl. After that, he was my consolation, sneaking up to the
window some time in the afternoon, to talk to me for a while.

Once in a while, I would sneak out of the house, but not for very long. I
usually waited for my mother to go to church, so that I wouldn't be caught.
And Joseph brought me books which helped me to pass the time.

My whole adventure really started when I reached my sixteenth birthday,
not long after the abbe had brought me home to my mother in disgrace.

It was after supper. For some time, now, my parents had been talking about
getting me married. I was "overripe," as my father said, and he had been
talking to some of the men in the village who had sons. I knew of many of
them, but the idea of marrying them gave me goose bumps of revulsion.

This particular night, there was a knock on the door, and my father went to
answer it. It was the abbe. I greeted him as politely as I was able, and felt
guilty for my growing dislike for the man.

Fortunately, I did not have to remain in his presence. I was dismissed by my
parents. I went straight to bed, relieved at not having to be pleasant to the
abbe. But in the morning, I was shocked to learn that the abbe had proposed
a match for me to my parents--with Victor de Wiere.

I shuddered when my father made the announcement to me.
"But he's horrible!" I cried.

"Curb your wayward tongue!" my mother cried. "You have no choice in the
matter, and the abbe thinks it's high time you were wed to put a bridle on
your headstrong temperament. You are not docile enough, and we are
having a hard enough time finding a match for you!"

"No!" I cried, rising from the table, "I will not marry Victor. He's fat and
ugly and mean!"

I raced from the kitchen and went to my bedroom. I threw myself down on
the bed and wept. I stayed in my room all day, and when the abbe visited us
later that afternoon, bringing Victor's father, I refused to come down to meet
him.

Victor and his father were tenant farmers. They were slovenly and careless.
They also drank a lot. I had seen Victor kicking a horse one day, and
another time, I saw him switching a wayward cow.

My parents and the abbe talked for a while in the living room and then I
could hear the sound of the abbe's horse departing. My father came up to
my room. He looked very, very angry.

"If you have not consented to this match by noon tomorrow, you are no
longer any daughter of mine!" he said. He left, slamming the door after him.

My grandmother came up later to bring me some food which she had
sneaked out of the kitchen. She was my only consolation.
"Can you not see any way you could reconcile yourself to the match?" she
asked me, stroking my brow which was fevered from weeping.

I shook my head, which ached.

"Poor little one. Your mother has insisted to your father that you marry
Victor de Wiere. She wants you out of this house."

"He's horrible," I gasped. "I would rather be an old maid."

"I understand," my grandmother said. Then she sighed. "I wish I could help
you. I will speak to my daughter, to see if I can soften her."

"Why would they be so insistent on my marrying that horrible man? My
dowry's good enough, is it not, Granny?"

My grandmother looked at me and shook her head.

"Your father is comfortable, but he had not been able to offer the kind of
dower that many of the other fathers can offer for their daughters,, When
the abbe proposed the match, he offered to add to your father's dowry,
because the de Wiere's are so impoverished. He thinks that the match would
improve their lot!"

"Their lot, but not mine," I exclaimed, hotly.

The next morning, my mother went to church. It was a holy day, but I
refused to go. Instead, I went out into the fields. My father was out tending
his vines. I had made up my mind to run away before I consented to the
monstrous match which the horrible abbe had dictated for me.

My friends were glad to see me, and when I told them the sad news, they,
too, were shocked. It was not until much later that I learned that these
young men treated me like a peer, and talked to me the way they had never
talked to another young girl.

"What are you going to do?" Joseph asked me.

"I'm going to run away," I said.
"Here," Michel said. He reached into his purse which hung from his belt,
and took out three gold coins. "You'll need these."

"What should I do?" I asked, wondering where my livelihood would come
from.

"Perhaps you could get a job as a maid at one of the houses around here,"
Michel said. "Perhaps even at my father's chateau. That way, you wouldn't
have to run very far." Consoled, I left my friends, arriving home just before
my mother.

"Well?" she asked me, as she walked into the kitchen, where I was helping
my grandmother prepare the noon meal. "Do you consent to the match we
have made for you?"

"No, ma'am," I said firmly but with as much respect as I could muster.
"Then, leave this house!" she demanded.

In vain did my grandmother plead with her. I went to my room and put my
clothing in a satchel, very grateful that I had the gold pieces which Michel
had given me. My grandmother added to the small horde when she came to
my room to hug me and kiss me goodbye. She dropped two more gold coins
into my hand.

It was Joseph who came to my aide. It was the planting season and there
was no school, so he hid me there.

On the third day of my hiding, we were talking together. His father had
traveled to Dieppe on business and would be gone for two weeks. He had
brought me food regularly.

I was so grateful to him that I curled my arms around his neck, and kissed
him. I don't know what caused that fiery desire to well up in my loins. I had
played familiarly with Joseph and the other boys, kissed them freely, but
suddenly the kiss turned into something more than a simple gesture of
friendship.
The kiss deepened, and then I felt Joseph's arms tightening around my back.
I was well grown then, and my breasts were full and ripe. I felt them being
pressed flat against Joseph's chest. I could feel his heart beating against my
right breast, as he slithered his tongue into my mouth.

I was very surprised when he did it, but the sensation was so pleasurable
that I didn't stop him.

I shivered as I felt the honey of my desire welling up in my love channel
and flowing downward. My own heart seemed to swell in my breast, and it
pounded violently against my ribs, as I surrendered to the kiss.

Then Joseph took my right hand and placed it against his crotch. I gasped
against his mouth when I felt the hard, hot pulsating rod of his manhood.
He pushed me back against the floor where we had been sitting and lay on
top of me, pressing his bulging manhood against my pussy.

If I had had any desire to resist him, I had long since lost it in the heady
strength of my young passion in which I was wallowing.

I arched up against him, panting with the heated passion which surged
through me. I curled my arms around his neck more tightly, and sucked on
his tongue, as he fumbled with my skirt, pushing it up over my knees.

My flesh seemed to melt as I felt his hand caressing my furry love mound.
The sensation was incredible, and I started to weep with the intensity of my
desire.

Joseph removed his hand and fumbled in the dark with the laces of his
breeches. Of course, since I was hiding, I couldn't have a candle at night.
Someone might see the light and investigate.

In the dim light, his rod sprang out, looking bigger and more powerful than
I had ever thought a man's staff could look, but I wasn't scared. I was too
swamped with my powerful lust to be scared.

He pushed my skirt up over my belly, exposing my furry delta of delight to
his gaze, and then he fell on top of me again. I could feel his rod pulsating
against my trembling thigh.

I reached down, curious, and curled my hand around his prick. It was so
hard and hot, and it pulsated with an incredible urgency, the throbbing
seeming to travel up my arm and permeate my entire body.

And yet the skin which covered his manly rod was soft. As I rubbed up and
down on his prick, he had unlaced my bodice, exposing my round, soft
breasts. He was caressing them as he kissed me, pinching my nipples
gently, until they were stiff little buds of fiery delight.

He reached down and grasped his cock at its hairy base, and pressed it
against my never-opened hole. I knew I was committing a sin, that this act
was for marriage only, but I didn't care. I had been ostracized from my own
family, and I had, no doubt, lost all chances of having a decent marriage. |
had decided that if I couldn't have a husband I would respect and love, I
would have no husband at all!

I groaned when I felt him pressing the bulbous, mushroom-shaped head of
his prick against my honeyed hole. Then he thrust inward, and for a
moment, the strange, but wonderful sensation took my breath away.

I felt my pussy walls spreading for the first time in my life. The pressure of
his cock sliding into my well-oiled cunt intensified the passionate throbbing
which already suffused my sex flesh.

I instinctively bent my knees up, giving him easier access for his
penetration. His cock slid inward, and then hit the barrier of my
maidenhead. He stopped for a moment, and pulled out slightly, and then
thrust inward with more strength.

I winced when I felt the sharp sting of my hymen being torn from my pussy
walls. Joseph thrust inward again, and I felt his hairy fleshy sacs pressing
against my quivering ass cheeks.

He reached down and kissed me, moaning against my mouth, as he started
to lunge in and out of me. The slight stinging sensation disappeared fairly
quickly, and was replaced with a wonderful pleasure which felt like
lightning as it flickered in heated waves through my body.

I started to arch upward, as he lunged inward, wanting to feel more and
more of his cock in the depths of my cunt. My juices flowed in ever-
increasing streams down over my pussy walls, lubricating his cock, so that
it slid in and out of me faster and faster.

My hands roved over his back, savoring the way his muscles rippled. I
reached down, and cupped his muscular buttocks with my hands, kneading
his ass cheeks, as they rose and fell, pumping his prick in and out of me.

His strokes got harder and faster, and I started to squirm. A strange, wild
feeling started to tingle in the depths of my entrails, as I abandoned myself
to the carnal pleasure which had taken possession of me.

At first, the feeling was so intense that it scared me slightly. It was almost
as if I were being pitched headlong over a precipice. But the pleasure still
grew, and then my internal organs seemed to turn inside out.

I felt my pussy starting to spasm, my soft, moist cuntal walls clamping on
Joseph's hard-pumping prick.

By now, his hairy loins were soaking wet with the cream gushing from my
stuffed hole. His cock made wet, sucking noises, as it lunged into me,
prying into the secrets of my newly-opened womanhood.

As the ecstasy grew, I got wilder. My body writhed insanely under Joseph's.
The sweet spasms intensified, and the heated waves of a sexual crisis
gripped me so that my body behaved as if I were having an attack of palsy.

At the height of the delicious turmoil, I squealed.

Joseph's prick swelled in my pussy, getting fatter, and hotter, and harder,
and then, with a violent thrust, I felt the juices of his manhood pouring into
me, mixing hotly with my own come cream, and swelling the slimy,
aromatic tide which was cascading from my womanhood.
The flood of come cream trickled down my ass crack, and made a slimy
pool on the floor beneath my arching, bucking hips.

Each inward thrust caused Joseph's prick to spew forth more of his manly
juices, until he had expended his load.

Then his body collapsed on top of mine. I could feel the heat of his body
adding to my passionate heat, and I squirmed from sheer pleasure,
underneath his weight.

Finally, he raised his head. His eyes were troubled.
"I-I'm sorry, Angelica," he gasped. "I've made you sin."
I caressed his sweating cheek and consoled him.

"No, I liked it, Joseph."

Joseph pulled out of my pussy, and sat up, stuffing his dwindling prick into
his breeches. He laced them up.

"I've ruined you," he said, looking at me earnestly. "I couldn't help it, but I
did! Oh, I feel awful!"

I sat up and put my arms around him, trying to console him. He seemed to
be horrified at what he had done, and I was slightly bewildered.

"Please, don't think anything about it. We won't talk about it, all right?"

"Ohh, what am I going to do?" he exclaimed, mournfully. Then he looked at
me intensely. "I'll marry you," he said.

I was shocked, and then I almost laughed.

"How can you? You're only sixteen, and you're going to university. I haven't
a dowry, and your father will disown you as my parents have disowned
me!"

"Well, what are we going to do?" Joseph exclaimed.
"Nothing," I said, rising, and going to the window to look out at the
darkness. There was a sickle moon rising on the horizon which gave some
light to the countryside.

"Tomorrow," I said, "I shall go to Michel's father and beg for work as a
housemaid.

"To the Chateau Renard?" Joseph asked with disbelief.
"Yes."

"But how will you get the job without a recommendation? A woman
alone... "

"I shall tell the truth--well, I shall lie a little. I shall tell the baron that I am a
good girl put out of my home because I refused to marry Victor de Wiere.
And I shall beg him to assist me in earning an honest living. I think he will
accept me."

"But if you become a servant, you will never find a good husband."

"Probably not," I said, shrugging my shoulders, "but I would rather not
marry at all than marry badly, or marry a man I don't love."

"Abbe Pierre says marry or bum, that unmarried women should all be in a
convent."

"I hate Abbe Pierre!" I snarled.

That was another of a long chain of mistakes which I made. I had shocked
Joseph with my angry retort, and he would remember it before the
Inquisition!


CHAPTER TWO

I realize that the course of action I had taken was bold, but I was
determined to survive, and survive well.
I went to the chateau the next day, and told my story, having gained
admittance to the baron's study.

He listened gravely, and then grunted, nodding his head.

"You have better taste than most peasant women," he said. "But you have
ruined your chances for any decent marriage."

"I would rather not marry than wed a man I can't love nor respect," I said,
perhaps somewhat hotly. I tried to curb my high spirits, but I'm afraid I
wasn't very successful.

Instead of a rebuke, however, the baron laughed.

"A wench of spirit! Well, I like your attitude. Perhaps I can find you a
member of my staff whom you would like and respect enough to marry. In
the meantime, go with my steward. He will show you to the kitchen. We
shall see if your unbridled spirit takes well to the halter of labor."

The next several months were actually happy for me! I worked and worked-
-so hard that there were days when I thought I would drop from exhaustion.
But I learned about the running of a large household, and I performed all
my tasks with all the grace and skill I could master.

After a while, things became easier, and I was given better work. I was
entrusted to run errands for the baron and baroness, and I frequently
assisted the cook when she shopped.

Several times, I met my mother, but it was as if I didn't exist. She walked
past me, and never acknowledged that she knew me. I did, however, sneak
visits to my grandmother every now and then. They were some consolation
to me.

Once, I met Joseph, under strained circumstances. I was standing in front of
a stall, contemplating the purchase of several onions. I had been entrusted
with that chore, when he walked up beside me. He almost jumped.

"Good day, Joseph," I said cheerily.
Joseph blushed, and stammered a greeting in return.
"How have you been?"

"Unh, well, thank you. I shall be going to Paris in another month, to the
university."

"I shall miss you. I like you very much," I said, lowering my voice slightly
so as not to embarrass him further.

Our halting conversation was interrupted at that point by a growing
chanting which was approaching us. I gasped, when the procession from
which the chanting was emanating, came into view.

In the forefront of the procession, were six black-cowled priests, carrying
large, lit tapers. Behind them, supported by other priests, also cowled, were
several of the most ragged, wretched-looking humans I have ever seen--the
victims of the Inquisition.

Two of them were barely out of childhood, no more than eleven or twelve,
one a young boy, the other a weeping, staggering young girl. They were
wearing conical hats on their heads, with inscriptions on them. Michel had
been teaching me a little Latin, so I recognized the word formations, but I
was not skilled enough to decipher the meaning.

Joseph turned his back and blessed himself.
"The damned," he muttered.

"No!" I hissed, but loudly enough to be heard by the stall-tender, and by the
abbe, who had come up behind us without my knowledge. "I don't believe
that a merciful God who died for our sins would ever commit such an
atrocity. It's cruel."

Joseph gasped and rounded on me.

"How can you say that?"
"We are all sinners," I replied, remembering my grandmother's kindly
words. "So who are we to judge? The church should be as merciful as
Christ was."

"That is an heretical remark, if ever I heard one!"

It was my turn to gasp when I heard the abbe's voice. He glared at me, and
shook a finger at me.

"You are a perverse child!" he exclaimed. "The church is always merciful to
sinners, but when she is threatened with heresy, she can also be firm to
protect her purity."

All my anger for the abbe welled up in me.

I had the wild impulse to spit on the intolerant man who was going to force
me to marry a fat, slovenly buffoon, just to keep me in my place!

Instead, I gnashed my teeth together, turned, and paid for the onions I had
selected.

I had already tarried too long, and there was much still to do.

My knowledge of life, such as it was, had been opened up at the chateau. I
had never, while I was living at my father's house, heard of the Inquisition,
which had come to our village several years before, because of reports of
heresy.

My father was a taciturn man, and he seldom spoke, so I didn't get the
knowledge of affairs in the village.

But in the chateau, the gossip flowed swift and free, and I learned much,
which caused me to look at my small village and its surrounding
countryside with new eyes.
It was really such a wonderful world! I wondered why I had never known it
before, wondered what the difference was between my former home from
which I was barred, and the chateau. I think now that the big difference was
more intelligence, and also the nature of the baron and baroness, who were
gregarious people, mingling freely with the gentry of the surrounding
countryside, and their servants, who had become influenced by the same
spirit.

We went frequently to the marketplace, and the chateau was visited. Of
course the servants eavesdropped, and so, I must confess, did I.

I returned to the chateau, and thought nothing more of the incident which
had occurred.

That night, Michel and I were sitting out by the stables, and he told me that
he was being sent to Paris to study.

I felt very sad about that. I felt as if all my old friends were gone, and even
if the servants were kindly, for the most part, and amiable companions, |
was hungry for friends of my own age. I was the youngest female servant at
the chateau.

The next afternoon, however, I was summoned into the baron's study.
Standing beside the baron's chair, was the cruel Abbe Pierre.

The baron looked very, very concerned.

"My child, do you go to church?" he asked me.

"Yes, Excellency," I responded, puzzled by the question.

"And do you know your catechism?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"Do you believe the tenets of your faith as you have been taught them?"

"Yes, Excellency," I said.
The baron turned to the abbe.
"You see? She is no heretic."

"I heard what I heard!" the abbe said, his voice sounding sonorous,
threatening. "She inveighed against the church yesterday in the
marketplace."

The baron leaned forward.

"Think carefully, Angelica," he said. "Did you say anything about the
Inquisition?"

"Why, yes," I answered, truthfully. "I was talking to Joseph, the
schoolmaster's son, when the procession went by. I told him that I thought
the church should be as merciful as Christ who died for us."

"Abbe Pierre, that doesn't sound like heresy to me," the baron said.
"Do you, Excellency, agree with the purpose of the Inquisition?"
"I do, Abbe Pierre," the baron said.

As he answered the priest, a horrible insight happened to me which
frightened me so that I almost reeled where I was standing.

The baron, part of the nobility of France, a powerful, very rich man, to
whom everyone bowed, and of whom everyone was afraid, was afraid, not
of the Abbe Pierre, but of the Inquisition! What was this horrible thing
which lived among us?

"Very well, then you will allow the Inquisition to do its work. I shall take
Angelica with me to be questioned."

The baron nodded, and I was instructed to get my cloak and go with the
abbe.

When we got to the village, I was brought to the town hall, and IT was
confined to a small, windowless room, and left in the dark, having been
admonished by the abbe to "think of my sins."

I wasn't thinking of sin. I was thinking of the poor young people I saw,
going to their deaths the day before!

I was almost relieved when the door finally opened, and a cowled priest
beckoned to me silently to follow him.

I was led into another room. At the far end of the room, raised on a throne
like wooden platform, were three priests, all in black and white, with hoods
which hung down the back. To the left, more priests, with their hoods up,
were seated in chairs.

In front of the raised, altar-like desk stood another hooded priest, sitting at a
small table. He had paper, and a quill.

To my right stood my mother, my father, my grandmother, and Joseph! The
next several hours were like a nightmare to me, and I remember them only
vaguely.

The priest at the desk rose, and read something to me in Latin. When he had
finished, he sat down with his quill poised over the paper, and the priest in
the middle of the three on the high desk glared at me. He had piercing gray
eyes, and a cruel, harsh mouth, his expression being somewhat like Abbe
Pierre's, who was also there, standing behind the rows of hooded priests.

"Do you understand what was read to you?" he asked, his voice sounding
like the grinding of coach wheels over cobblestones.

"I don't understand Latin," I said.

"What?" he screamed, as a murmuring sound rippled among the hooded
priests, "how would you know it was Latin at all?" he demanded. "Do you
have commerce with the devil?"

"N-no, father," I gasped.

"You are an unlettered country wench!" the priest screamed. "How is it you
knew it was Latin, unless you were instructed by the devil himself?"
I closed my mouth and kept it shut. Not all the exhortations, nor all the
screaming of the priest and the accusations thrown at me would get me to
involve Michel and Joseph, who had both taught me, in a scandal which
was of my own making because of my hasty tongue!

But my family thought nothing of telling the Inquisition, when they were
questioned, of my behavior. My mother described in detail the hours of
prayer she had given up for me, the enemas because she thought I was
devilish, and of bad, perverse humor. And once again, before this deadly
court, I heard my father describe me as "behaving like a witch."

It was Joseph who really assassinated me. He repeated what I had said to
him the day before, and then, with no prodding at all from the members of
the Inquisition, obviously terrified and trying to exculpate himself, he
admitted that he had had intercourse with me!

"Is this true?" the head Inquisitor, whose name, I had learned, was Brother
Rudolph, demanded.

I refused to answer.

"To the dungeon with her. Apply the screws!" Brother Rudolph barked, and
I was hurried out of the hostile room with its hostile clerics, almost dragged
between two cowled priests.

The room to which I was taken was horrible! There were hideous torture
devices on the walls, and the room stank of old blood, and fear. I could
actually hear my own heart pounding in my ears!

The screws were wooden devices with a metal brace between the two
pieces of wood. They were applied to my thumbs, and the screw slowly
tightened, while one of the hooded priests demanded that I speak and save
my soul, to confess my sins.

I was so afraid, that I urinated on myself, staining the wooden chair to
which I was tightly strapped. Every time the priest questioned me, the
screws were closed more tightly around my thumbs by the two hooded
torturers, until I finally screamed in agony.
I screamed a lot in that hour, but I didn't talk. When the first interrogation
session was over, both my thumbs were broken, and I was barely conscious.

"A grave, grave case of heresy, possibly possession," the cruel priest said,
as he turned to leave the room.

"Manacle her to the wall," he said, almost as an afterthought, turning at the
door which he had opened.

The screws were removed from my thumbs, and the straps were removed
from across my chest, and from around my ankles.

I was hauled across the room, and my arms were stretched over my head,
my wrists secured in iron manacles which were attached to the stone walls.
My thumbs were bloodied and brutally swollen, and the burning pain in
them shot through my arms, and pooled in the pit of my belly.

The two torturers left, slamming the door behind them. I had never been in
such profound solitude. Somewhere in the .dim distance, I could hear the
skittering of rats' feet, and I shuddered.

I was manacled in chains to the wall, and I had visions of them,
approaching me, nibbling off my toes, working their way up my naked
body--and naked I was, I blush to say.

Before the torturers had left, one of them had stripped off my simple,
homespun robe!

The sound of the bolt being pulled open on the massive, brass-studded door,
for all it might threaten me, was a relief.

A golden shaft of light flowed into the dark dungeon, lighting up the metal
shafts of the torture instruments, outlining the rack ominously, revealing the
blood-stained straw scattered on the stone floor.

Two hooded men walked into the room, bearing torches, which they sat in
sconces on the stone wall. There was a third, hooded man in the doorway,
his gown that of one of the priests of the Inquisition.
The two hooded men, not the same torturers I had had before, I noticed, lit
two more torches, and then I could discern the third man who had come in
with them. It was the chief questioner of the Inquisition, Brother Rudolph!

My mouth went dry with fear, as he approached me.

"You are accused by the Inquisition of fornicating with heathens, heresy,
and other unnatural behaviors," Brother Rudolph intoned.

His accusation puzzled me. The only one I had fornicated with was Joseph,
who was a church-goer!

"You have steadfastly denied all the allegations," he continued, further
puzzling me, because I had merely remained mute. "Now I am going to
ascertain the truth of at least one of those accusations."

With that, the awesome cleric lifted his soutane.

I gasped! His cock was fully erect, and throbbing with the lusty blood
which had swelled it.

He hooked his hands under my knees, and pulled them up so that my legs
straddled his waist.

I screamed, and in spite of the fiery pain in my thumbs, I struggled, but the
two other men had closed the door, so that my screams could not be heard,
and now, burly arms folded across their chests, they stood guard on either
side of the doorframe, watching my newest ordeal, and further humiliating
me.

I started to sweat with the monstrous fear which rushed over me like a cold
mountain wind. This cleric was going to rape me in the name of the church,
in the name of the Inquisition, and he would find out the truth--that I wasn't
a virgin.

And I would bum for having given in to my lusts, damned by this supposed
man of God who was going to violate me.
My struggles were futile, I realized that, but I kept on fighting, not wanting
to consent to this evil thing!

In the dim light from the candles, I could see a drop of his fluid glistening
on the edge of his prick, as he lunged forward, having tucked the bottom of
his soutane in his belt.

I screamed again when I felt his prick plunging into my dry and unready
hole. His cock burned ferociously. I could readily believe that this man was
of the devil, as I felt his hard prick burrowing into my fleshy nest, his hard,
throbbing shaft abrading the soft, tender flesh of my pussy.

He grunted as he lunged inward, his eyes burning with the lust which so
obviously consumed him.

And then I felt his hairy balls pressing against my tight, quivering ass
cheeks.

He laughed, like a demon, and a thin trickle of saliva dribbled from the
corner of his mouth.

"She is not a virgin," he said, his voice guttural with lust. My face was
flaming with mortification, and the obscene laughter of the two men
watching my violation only heightened the misery which seemed to add
weight to my body, causing my wrists to drag from the manacles, cutting
my flesh.

Grunting, he withdrew his prick until only his bulbous cock head was
encased in my tight, inflamed tunnel. As he pulled out, I felt as if he were
drawing all my entrails with him.

I closed my eyes, resigned myself to the evil which was being perpetrated
on me, as he lunged inward again. I felt as if my cunt were being ripped
open.

His cock hammered mercilessly at my womanhood, until I thought I would
scream with the pain.
But then, as he slammed into me, his hairy loins rubbed against my pussy
lips and they began to swell. I felt a curious tingling sensation near the tip
of my pussy, which spread through me.

In spite of the throbbing, inescapable pain in my broken thumbs, I felt my
juices starting to trickle downward. As the strange pleasure which I was
feeling in spite of myself, started to build, to tingle in my whole body, the
pain subsided somewhat.

My juices were like a soothing salve, which eased the pain of my abraded
pussy walls. I looked down, and the cleric's hood had fallen off his head
completely now. His face was red and his eyes glowed with lust, as he
plowed in and out of my womanly furrow.

His cock lunged deeper and deeper into my quivering pussy, and I started to
sweat, as the heat rose in me.

My perverse womanhood would have its own way! I felt the same strange,
but delicious spasms taking over again, felt my flesh crawling with the
carnal delight I had experienced for the first time with Joseph.

My body seemed to swell with the heated ecstasy which coursed through
me, and I wondered why sex was forbidden, why my mother seemed to
think it was an onerous chore, which she never discussed.

Even in my agony and my mortification, the pleasure I was feeling was
powerful! My hips started to rock back and forth, without an effort of my
will to propel them.

I wanted more and more of his cock in me, and I surrendered to the
pleasure, knowing that for the moment, it would mean forgetfulness, and
some surcease of pain.

I felt my breath hissing through my teeth. My breasts, bobbing with my
rocking motions, tingled, and my nipples were tiny, wrinkled little buds of
scintillating pleasure.
As the cleric's rod sawed in and out of me, I watched it appear, gleaming
with my juices, and then disappear into the chaotic reaches of my sex.

My womb seemed to close in on itself, like a soft fist. The juices of my lust
poured more freely, until the cleric's thick pubic hairs were glistening with
my honey.

His breathing was labored and harsh, and then his cock seemed to get larger
in my cunt, to drive more deeply into my fleshy tunnel of love. He started to
slam into me harder and faster, and the tingling sensation which rippled
through me, causing goose flesh to appear on my smooth white skin,
intensified.

Then I gnashed my teeth together, to prevent the cry of bliss which I felt
welling up in the depths of my throat.

I was going through another of those fabulous sexual upheavals which I had
experienced with Joseph.

And even though I was a captive, and probably would die, I loved it, loved
the glory of it. If it were this good with Joseph, who had proved not to be
my friend at all, and a cruel cleric, what would it be like with a man whom I
loved and respected?

I heard the low, animal-like sounds coming from the cleric's throat, and then
I felt his rod pouring forth the viscid juice of his lust.

At that moment, my own excitement reached a pitch. For a moment, my
body stiffened, and then I writhed wildly, as I felt the spasms rippling
through my cuntal walls.

It felt as if my hole had turned into a sucking mouth, as the cleric battered
me with his rod of lust.

His balls, now soaking wet with the lavish juices which flowed from my
interior, slapped noisily against my writhing ass cheeks, as I abandoned
myself, like a wanton harlot, to the carnal upheaval which seemed to
consume me.
Then, with another grunt, the priest lunged in again, and his body relaxed.
He had emptied his manhood of its thick, warm load.

He pulled out of me abruptly, and then pulled down his soutane.

His cock removed from my pussy, and my legs again in a vertical position, |
could feel his juices, combined with mine, gushing from my pussy.

He walked to the door which one of the hooded men opened.
"She is not a virgin, so use her as you will," he said.
The men guffawed as they closed the door.

I cringed, as they approached me. One of them had already started to unlace
his breeches.

I clenched my fists, forgetting my broken thumbs, and cried out in agony.
The agony did something strange to me. It made me angry. No, it almost
maddened me with a rage I had never experienced before.

That anger probably saved my life that night, because the two men raped
me over and over again, until I finally sagged in my bonds unconscious.

But when I woke up, I knew as surely as I knew I was locked in a dungeon,
that this Inquisition was not the work of God. It was the work of the devil,
and those hooded, foreign priests and clerics, were the devils minions!

I was saying my prayers, feverishly begging God to save me, when the door
opened again.

The two torturers who walked in, were the first I had had, the ones who had
applied the thumb screws.

Then they released me, and brought me a shabby, smelly old robe to cover
my nakedness.

I was to approach the Inquisition again for further questioning.
They had to support me, as I made my way up the dank stone steps, into the
room, where I had been the day before.

Assembled there were the same people.

The only one I pitied was my grandmother, who with quivering voice, had
told the Inquisition the day before that I was a good girl, and that, no, she
hadn't remembered my committing any unnatural acts.

I wondered how cruelly my parents had treated her for her loyalty. They
were standing slightly apart from her, and Joseph, whom I had always
thought sweet and good-natured, had a crafty, hard look on his face.

Then and there, I swore to escape from these people, to run away, and never
see them again.

I looked at Brother Rudolph, sitting in sanctimonious sourness on the raised
platform. I didn't wait for him to point a finger at me. I pointed a trembling
one at him.

"You raped me!" I cried.

There was a stone-dead silence in the room, and time seemed to be frozen.


CHAPTER THREE

"Beast! Harlot of the devil! You lie!"

It was abbe Pierre who spoke first, hurling those accusations at me.

"No!" I replied, my voice quivering with fear and an indignation I had never
felt before.

"You are excommunicated!" Brother Rudolph shrieked. There was foam
around his mouth, just as there would be around the mouth of a maddened
dog.

His words struck a wild fear in me. He was cutting me off from every
earthly consolation I knew.
After the deathly silence of my accusation, a noisy murmuring stirred
through the room, and then my mother fainted.

This provided just the distraction I needed. The hooded priests were all
talking among each other, occasionally gesticulating in my direction. The
two torturers had dropped my arms when I first pointed at Brother Rudolph
and accused him of my crime.

They were now staring at the crumpled form of my mother. Abbe Pierre
was hovering over her.

With an unaccustomed initiative and fierceness, I spun and ran from the
room. Forgetting my weakness, my prolonged fast, the abuse which I had
suffered the night before, I ran with every ounce of speed I could muster
down the long, winding corridors, and out into the light of day.

I had come in through the front entrance, and now I was disoriented,
because I had emerged from the building through one of the side entrances.
I was afraid to go through the dark, cobblestoned alley toward the front,
which faced on the marketplace. I would be caught.

After the first, mindless rush out of the building, my thinking processes
came into play. I scurried toward the back of the building, where there was
a high wall. I rounded the corner just in time because the door through
which I had rushed burst open, and three armed guards rushed out. I hid in
an alcove, behind a statue as one guard ran toward the back to search for
me.

Peering from around the statue, I spied a small door. Trembling, I waited
until the last shouts and sounds of running feet had faded, and then slipped
out of my hiding place and toward the door.

The latch was rusty, but it was unlocked. I slipped through it. I was in
another alley-a larger one between two houses. Tire alley led onto one of
the finer streets of the village, with fine mansions, and a large inn. I slipped
behind the inn, through another alley, and then out into a lane, which led out
to the country.
It took me almost two hours, using obscure paths, and keeping myself
hidden, to reach the chateau. I knew I needed help. I was weak from my
ordeal and lack of sleep and food, and my thumbs were giving me constant
agony.

I finally reached the kitchen of the chateau, and collapsed at the door. When
I awoke, I was lying on a cot in the cook's room. The cook was there, as
was the baron's physician.

My thumbs really hurt now. I raised my arms to find that they were heavily
bandaged.

"Good. She is awake. Call the baron," the physician said. "And get her
some hot broth."

The cook left. A short while later, she returned with a steaming bowl of
broth. The physician left a few drops of a dark-looking substance in a glass
of water by the bed.

"When you have finished giving her the broth, make her drink this," the
physician said, and he departed.

The cook, who was a kindly old soul, fed me and complained the entire
while. She was afraid because I had escaped the Inquisition, that they were
all damned for helping me. During her long tirade, I learned that she had
summoned the baron, who had ordered me put to bed, and then ordered his
personal physician to attend me.

When she had finished feeding me the bowl of hot broth, she gave me the
drink. It was bitter, but shortly after drinking it, I began to get drowsy and
the burning, throbbing pain in my thumbs faded.

When the cook left, the baron came in, closing the door carefully behind
him.

"So," he said, approaching the bed, "you have escaped the Inquisition."
I looked at him, puzzled. He had a strange smile on his face. I had lost a
great deal of my awe and respect for him after discovering how craven he
became when the Inquisition was mentioned by the abbe.

The baron pulled up a chair, and sat beside my bed. I stared at him
wordlessly.

"You think," he finally said, breaking the long silence, "that I perhaps lack
courage because I didn't stand up to the abbe, or protect you?"

I didn't answer, but my eyes must have revealed my opinion.

"Do you not understand," he continued, "that if I am judged by the
Inquisition, they would take all of my wealth, my estates, leaving my
children and my wife destitute?"

I didn't know that, and it hardened my conviction that the Inquisition was a
thing of the devil. What good human being would cast the sin of a man on
his innocent wife and children? Ignorant as I was, I couldn't believe it!

And that was what I answered the baron.

"I cannot deny your reasoning. You are not only a wench of some spirit, but
of considerable sense as well! You show much promise. Now," he added,
leaning back in his chair, "tell me what happened.”

When I had finished my tale, he nodded, and patted my shoulder.
"So, you have been excommunicated?"
"I do not accept it!" I said, partially rising from my bed.

"They have the power of Rome behind them, my girl," the baron said,
restraining me from further movement. I subsided. "The only recourse is to
go to the Vatican yourself, and beg that the decree be removed from you."

"Then," I said, folding my arms across my breasts, "I shall go to Rome!"

The baron laughed out loud.
"And do you know to whom you apply?"
"The pope!"
"If you, a mere country wench, can get to the pope."

"Who else is there?" I asked, seeking advice. "There are any number of
cardinals who might apply to His Holiness for you. But I assure you, Rome
is no place for any girl! The pope is a licentious profligate, and the College
of Cardinals is not much better. I understand from reports I have had from
travelers, that Sodom and Gomorrha were Edens of innocence compared to
Rome today."

"I shall go to Rome," I said, feeling my words becoming slurred.
Again, I heard a long, low laugh from the baron.

"Sleep, my pretty one," he said. "We shall discuss this further. For the
moment, you are safe, although they are combing the countryside."

"The servants?" I asked.

"They are loyal to me, and they have become very fond of you, so they will
keep their own counsel. Even if their loyalty were not so great as it is, they
will keep our little secret for fear of the fires of the Inquisition!"

I was asleep before the baron had left the room, and my sleep was deep and
restful.

When I awakened, the cook was by my bed. Once again my thumbs caused
me excruciating agony. While I had slept, the physician had come and
rebound them. The cook told me that the bones were broken, but not
crushed, and the physician had set them, so that my thumbs would not be
disfigured, and would still be of use to me.

For a week, I recovered, lying peacefully on the bed. The baron visited me
almost every day. Finally, I was strong enough to rise and take some
exercise, after dark in the walled garden in back of the chateau.
When I had recovered enough strength, I spoke to the baron again about my
determination to go to Rome. He gave me no answer, but dismissed me
instead, telling me that he would consider it.

That night, as I was preparing for bed, there was a knock on the door. One
of the scullery maids told me that the baron wished to see me in his quarters
on the second floor.

I had been there, of course, to clean the rooms, and change the linen, but I
couldn't understand why he wanted to see me there, when he usually
interviewed his servants in his study.

I knocked on his door, and was told to come in. I walked into the high-
ceilinged, magnificent room, and closed the door behind me. The baron was
wearing a long, fur-collared, velvet robe which was magnificent.

"You wanted me?" I asked.

His eyes raked my body, and I stiffened, recognizing the look of lust in his
eyes. I felt, suddenly, at the ripe age of sixteen, as if I were sixty and much-
used.

"Yes. I will lie with you tonight," he said.
That unbridled temper of mine flared.

"No!" I said, stamping my foot. I swung and walked toward the door, to
leave, only to be detained by his hand on my shoulder.

Far from being angry with my stubbornness, it seemed to amuse him.

"Come now," he said, pulling me around to face him, "you have deprived
me of my first night privileges, and you are no virgin, by your own
admission."

"You don't always take your first-night privileges!" I cried, pushing against
his strong shoulders. He had pulled me hard against his body.

He laughed.
"Not all wenches are as lovely and fine-spirited as you," he said.

He lowered his face, and I felt his lips brushing my lips. They were soft and
warm, and in spite of my resistance, I could feel the dew of my desire
starting to trickle from my hole.

His arms moved down to the small of my back, and he pressed my fur-
covered muff against his loins. I could feel the hard, throbbing bulge of his
manhood, and my young, lawless womanhood became inflamed with
excitement.

My heart beat powerfully, and I could feel my blood drumming in my ears,
causing them to ring.

I sagged against his body, and began to tremble as that marvelous passion
took possession of me so that I could no longer control my own body.

The baron lifted me in his arms, and carried me to the large canopied bed
and laid me upon it. I had never lain on soft, white lawn sheets before, and
they felt wonderful.

The baron threw off his robe, revealing his naked body. He was a large man,
and well-proportioned, hard and fit from his hours in the saddle. He unlaced
my gown, and pulled it up over my head, throwing it on the floor.

Then he started to caress my breasts. I was panting now as the heady
excitement built in my body. As his hands moved over the resilient softness
of my tits, I felt my nipples puckering, tingling with pleasure.

He kneaded the pink little nubbins of flesh between the thumb and
forefinger of each hand, and then he reached down, and pulled my right
nipple into his mouth, sucking on it.

I gasped, and arched my back up. By now, I was squirming with the desire
which pricked my innards, and caused me to go slightly crazy in that
delicious way which was rapidly becoming familiar to me.
He sucked on my right nipple, and then tongued his way to my left breast
and sucked on that nipple, nipping it gently with his teeth.

His hands moved over my body, until I felt him cupping my golden-furred
love mound.

His finger traced the curved slit of my cunt, and I could feel my pink inner
lips swelling, throbbing with desire.

I arched my hips up, bending my knees, and spreading my thighs. By now,
the passion was like a roaring conflagration in me, and I no longer cared to
resist.

I wanted to feel the baron's cock sliding into my hot, drooling little hole. He
moved his body over on top of mine, and crouched between my spread-
apart legs.

His eyes glowed with the lust which burned in him, as he pressed his
bulbous, mushroom-shaped cock head against my honeyed hole, and thrust
inward.

I held my breath from sheer pleasure, as I felt the pressure of his prick,
spreading my pussy walls wide, his hot hard shaft massaging the itching,
tingling flesh of my blood-engorged sex flesh.

He slid inward, until T felt his hair-covered balls pressing against my ass
cheeks, and then he lowered his body on top of mine, working his arms
under my trembling, sweating back.

I curled my arms around his neck, as his mouth came down to take
possession of mine again. I felt his tongue slithering into my wet oral
cavity, and I sucked on it, moaning with the delight which filled me.

Once again, I was lost in a carnal Paradise, as I felt him starting to move in
me, his hot, hard prick pulling out until only the tip of it was lodged in my
pussy, and then thrusting inward again.
His cock wreaked a wild devastation in my womanly pit, and I felt my
juices flowing faster and more freely, as he lunged into me over and over
again.

I started to buck up against his down-thrusting hips, wanting to feel his
cock driving deeper and deeper into me.

His cock head butted against the fleshy roof of my hot wet cave of lust, the
impact sending spirals of pleasure whirling through me. I felt as if I were
lost in some wonderful sea of bliss, which turned my body inside out. It was
as if I had turned into a rutting animal.

My pink inner meat had swollen, so that it was sprouting like some lurid
blossom from between my plump white outer lips. Each time the baron
lunged inward, his hairy loins rubbed against the sensitive petals of pink
flesh, stimulating them.

The little button at the apex of my delta of carnal delight popped out of its
fleshy sheath, and scintillated with a thousand enthralling sensations, as his
cock plowed through my hot, wet tunnel.

The fleshy friction of his hard, pulsating rod, against my sex flesh, raised
my temperature until I felt feverish.

My body was coated with a thin patina of sex sweat, and I could feel the
heat of the baron's body, rubbing against mine, his weight pressing me into
the mattress, permeating my flesh.

My body felt as if it had swollen with the lusty pleasure coursing through it.
I raked my fingernails over his back, as his cock kept pumping in and out of
my tight, wet tunnel.

The tingling sensations intensified, and I started to writhe wildly under the
baron's hard-humping body.

His ass cheeks, gleaming with sweat, rose and fell, as he plowed through

me, plumbing the teeming, quivering depths of my womb with his
incredible rod of flesh.
His lips moved from my lips, and I felt him tonguing his way to my "neck.
His cock started to move in and out of my pussy faster and harder, and I
could feel it getting bigger The base of it pulsated violently,
counterpointing the throbbing of my own aroused sex flesh.

I knew he was about to come. Instinctively, I threw my legs up in the air
and wrapped them around his undulating waist. The gesture further spread
my pussy lips so that they were exposed to more stimulation from the
baron's hairy loins.

His wiry pubic hairs were coated now with the thick effluence of my desire,
which flowed in slimy streams down from my well-stuffed cunt.

He held me more tightly, and the pressure of his embrace only heightened
the wild welter of passion in which I was wallowing.

As I felt the sharp nip of his teeth against the base of my neck, I cried out
with wild bliss.

I could feel the first spasms of my sexual climax rippling through me. It
started as a hot, titillating flame in the pit of my belly and spread outward.
The contractions in my cunt got stronger and stronger.

With a low, animal-like moan, the baron started to shoot his thick, warm
juices Into my pussy.

I squealed, as I felt myself spiraling up, up, upward, driven into an insane,
but ecstatic world of fleshy convulsions.

My pussy walls clamped rhythmically around the baron's prick, as he
plunged into me furiously, his cock head spewing forth its thick, warm load
of liquid lust.

His juices mixed hotly with mine, and then flowed downward. His body
trembled with the wild orgasmic delight which surged through him, as he
took his pleasure from my writhing flesh, and gave me pleasure in return.
My orgasm peaked, and then started to fade softly away, leaving behind a
warm, quivering feeling of relaxation and joy.

When the baron had finished emptying his balls into my teeming
womanhood, his body relaxed on top of mine.

We lay like that for a long time, our flesh fused together with the heat and
moisture of our sexual crises.

Then he pulled out of me, and poured some wine from a crystal decanter
which was always placed by the side of his bed.

He gave me a glass, which I sipped, propped up on the fluffy pillows. I felt
for a brief while like a great lady. I watched the flickering candles casting
shadows on the ceiling and the tapestried walls, and wondered what it
would be like to live like this all the time.

Of course it wasn't possible. I was, as the baron said, "a mere country
wench" and I could expect nothing but rush mattresses and flagstoned
floors, and low ceilings in dark rooms.

"What is going on behind those dark eyes of yours?" the baron teased,
twining a finger in my honey-gold hair.

"Nothing but vain thoughts, Excellency," I replied.
"You are thinking, perhaps, that you would like to live like this?"

I laughed, and nodded. Then I blushed with my own boldness and sipped
my wine.

"I think you were born into the wrong class," the baron said. "You have all
the makings of a lady, albeit you lack some of the finesse, but that can be
learned."

"I want to go to Rome." I said, staring at him keenly.

The baron laughed, and leaned over, taking my wine glass from my hand.
He pulled me against his body, and kissed me passionately, his fingers
digging into the fleshy wealth of my breasts.

I reached down and grasped his cock. It was hard and hot again, and the
pulsations from his fleshy shaft seemed to vibrate up my arm and suffuse
my own body with growing lust.

My juices flowed heavily as I wallowed in his arms for the rest of the night.
In the morning, he rose, and pulled the curtains around the bed, leaving me
to sleep away most of the day at his instructions.

In the evening, one of the ladies’ maids came to the room, and I was bathed
and dressed in fine lawn undergarments, with a well-made over-garment of
dark blue wool. It was a lady's traveling gown!

I looked at myself in the mirror, after being laced into stout, but fine leather
traveling boots. The lady's maid dressed my hair for me in a simple style,
which showed off my face to advantage.

For the first time, looking at myself, I thought I was beautiful, and it was
another one of those shocking revelations, like the one I had had about the
baron during the abbe's fateful visit.

My eyes were large, dark brown, and almond-shaped. They dominated my
face, and were thickly fringed with dark brown lashes.

My hair was a glossy, honey color, and it waved becomingly.

I was tall, and well-grown, with full ripe breasts, a long slender waist, full,
but firm, slender hips and long legs.

My hands and feet were long and well-shaped. The only thing lacking to
make me more like a lady, would be soft creams to keep my hands soft and
white, since they were calloused and red with hard work, and, as the baron
said, the finesse, which could be learned.

I was awed at my transformation from country wench into fine lady. At the
maid's instructions, I went to the baron's study. There a meal was waiting
for me, and more wine.
"Can you ride?" he asked me.
"I have ridden the plow horses bare-back," I said.

The baron chuckled.

"You will have plenty of opportunity to learn properly. I have to send my
steward to Venice on some important business. You will accompany him."

I gasped at this good fortune.
"I-I don't know what to say," I replied.

"There is nothing to say. Do what you have to do," he said, rising and going
to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. Still staring out of the
window, he laid out the plan.

I was to leave that night with the steward and two other riders for
protection. I was to be Angelica deVraie, his cousin, and I was traveling to
join his sister, Patrice deVraie, at the Convent of the Holy Angels which
was in Rome.

I learned that the Inquisition had posted a reward for my return. They would
not suspect me, traveling as a lady, and my trip would be safe--until I
reached the mountains where there were bandits.

At Venice, the steward would find suitable escort for me to Rome itself, and
after that, I would be on my own.

He turned from the window, and handed me a letter of introduction to his
sister, who was abbess at the convent, and a small pouch, which contained
ten gold coins. That swelled my little treasure to fifteen, although I withheld
the information from the baron, only thanking him.

A horse was waiting for me at the door of the chateau, and the baron
himself helped me mount it.

At first, it felt ungainly, the saddle, and reins and all, but I had a pretty good
seat on a horse, and as the baron said, during the trip, I would learn to ride
well, with a few pointers from the steward.

We rode until dawn, stopped a few hours at an inn to rest the horses and
ourselves. I had been provided with a cloak of the same hue and material as
my dress, and a pair of gloves by the baron, along with the rest of my gifts,
so I was well-supplied for the trip.

Even at the inn, I preened in the dark glass, wondering at my
transformation. I was happy, and perhaps, I blush to say it, a little vain of
my looks and my gown.

Once again, we were on the road, this time traveling during the day. We did
not stop until dusk, when we pulled up to another inn. There we were to rest
thoroughly because on the morrow, we reached the foothills, and from
thence, for several days, our journey would be a dangerous one.

The two companions of the steward, Jock, and myself, were fully armed.
He was a companionable, amiable man, and the journey had been made
more enjoyable for me, in spite of its rigors, by his constant, informative
talk, and his gossip.

He told me much about Rome, and I suddenly realized how brazen and
dangerous was the mission I had undertaken.

At dawn the next morning, we set off, fortified by a good, hot breakfast, and
a good night's sleep.

We started into the mountains, and the easy talk of the last phase of the
journey ceased.

There was no time for anything but vigilance, and a keen eye.

My spine crawled, as we mounted the foothills, and finally arrived at the
mountains through which we had to pass. A strange feeling of foreboding
came over me as I looked at them, and I said a prayer in my heart.


CHAPTER FOUR
That first day was tense and tiring, but uneventful. We slept that night in a
monastery, which was heavily-walled against possible bandits.

Toward evening of the second day, we came upon a group of pilgrims, who
were heading toward Rome, visiting various churches along the way.

We stayed with them for two days, there being safety in numbers.

The pilgrims were a motley crew. There were the very poor and the very
wealthy, all mixed up together. To me that was a truly Christian way of
doing things, and they fascinated me.

I learned many things about many different villages, as we traveled. I
questioned them, but told them nothing of my own background. I
discovered shortly after we had joined them, that they automatically
assumed I belonged to the superior class in which the baron had disguised
me and I was treated with a deference I had never known.

Toward the end of our first day with the pilgrims, as we were approaching a
monastery for our nightly rest, Jock rode up to me. He had been talking
with the head of the pilgrim group.

"M'lady should be a little more conscious of her assumed station," he said
to me, winking.

"I assure you, Jock," I replied, laughing heartily, "I am very conscious of it.
After all, it is only borrowed!"

"Perhaps, but the comment from the countess is that you are much to
friendly with the servants, an attitude she finds rather repulsive."

"And I find her attitude repulsive, Jock," I replied, hot-headedly. "She beats
her poor little servant girl, and doesn't give her enough to eat. All I did was
use some salve on her wounds, and share my bread with her."

"Such kindness from the upper class is not warranted," Jock said, "although
I admire your charity."
"Why not? If the wealthy have everything, what does it hurt them to share
some of it? And if I were a lady, I should find it easier to be kind to
everyone!"

Jock shook his head and smiled ruefully.
"Unfortunately, you are not a lady."

"Watch your manners, sirrah!" I warned him jocularly. "For the time being,
Iam!"

On tire third day, we were leaving the mountains, and were once more on
relatively safe territory. The pilgrims were going to a famous shrine about
ten miles from where the road divided.

My heart beat heavily as we posted toward Venice. Italy! Rome! I couldn't
believe it, although the dangers of my mission did weigh me down.

I, a simple peasant girl, traveling like a lady-and so far. My head buzzed
with all I had learned.

Jock, who was well-traveled, told me about the land and its people, as we
passed through it. We had now passed the border into Italy, and I heard the
Italian language for the first time.

It sounded very mellifluous, and Jock told me a few words, although many
of the people did speak French, because the French clergy was well
represented in the College of Cardinals.

"Are they all as corrupt as Brother Rudolph and the pope?" I asked.
"What would you know about the pope?" Jock asked me.
"The baron told me he was a licentious profligate."

"He is, indeed, and there are rumors that he is also a murderer, although that
can't be proven, and the suspicion, if voiced aloud, would probably cost you
your life."
"How does a man like that get to be pope of Christ's church?" I asked,
thoroughly indignant.

"He was elected by other corrupt cardinals. Not all cardinals are corrupt.
There is the saintly Cardinal Beauregard. He is a kindly, chaste man. But he
is lost among the politics and machinations of the others."

I seized on the man's name.
"Where will I find this cardinal? I think he is the one I must speak to."

"No, my lady," Jock said, shaking his head. "He does not have the pope's
ear. Mother Patrice will know a cardinal who can help you, one who is
more powerful."

The baron deVraie had a castle in Venice. We arrived there at nightfall, and
I was placed in a wonderful room with a view over the canal. I leaned on
the windowsill, looking down at the wonderful sights, the flickering flares
which lit the lower parts of the buildings, and dotted the oily waters.

Venice was foul at this time of year, Jock had explained to me, and disease
was rife. It would be wise if we stayed off the streets. Even the canal
exhaled an odor which was highly noxious, but I was too fascinated to care.

The following day, I was given into the care of the steward of the castle,
and one of the lady's maids, who were to escort me to Rome, another three-
days’ trip.

We started out bright and early to avoid the fumes caused by the heat of the
sun. As we rode the dusty roads to Rome, they began to fill up, and I was
dizzy with the variety of sights and sounds which assaulted my senses.

I heard many different languages, and saw the very wealthy in their coaches
and on their magnificent steeds, mixed with the very poor, who had packs
on their backs or who drove in wagons. Many of them trudged by the side
of the road, and there were many poor beggars, whose whines for alms
added a droning leitmotif to the startling array of sounds.
I was very grateful to stop for lunch in an inn, and to request a room where
I could bathe and brush off my gown and cloak which had become very
dusty. Having repaired the damage of our morning's trip and refreshed
myself with some good Italian wine and food, we set off again.

The sun beat down on us mercilessly, until late in the afternoon, when we
were approaching our first night-stop, a famous inn.

Just as we topped a rise in the road, we heard galloping behind us. I turned
to see, coming up furiously, several horsemen.

They were all richly attired, and their steeds were magnificently
caparisoned.

"Quick, mistress, off the road!" the maid cried, wheeling her horse off into
the field which ran parallel to the road.

My horse, which was a high-spirited roan stallion, nickered, and balked, as
the steward and the maid got out of the way.

The apparent leader of the group of horsemen, riding a huge white stallion,
came abreast of me, his riding whip flailing. One of his indiscriminate licks
at his horse's haunches, caught my horse on the side.

The horse on which I was sitting reared, and then bucked.

Having a good strong peasant's hand with the rein, I pulled it in hard, but
my horse danced, and bucked a few more times before I got him under
control.

I was furious. The man riding the white horse pulled his animal in, and
turned to face me.

"Women have no business on the road on horses they can't control!" he
barked. But I could see the obvious alarm in his face.

"And men who cannot curb their tempers, and see fit to whip their horses
into fury, don't deserve to ride!" I yelled back.
The other riders had pulled up beside the man on the white horse. He was

very tall and very handsome, and there was an arrogant set to his face that I
didn't like.

His hair was jet black and wavy, and his eyes were a piercing blue. Our
eyes met, and I refused to relent. The steward and the maid cantered back to
the road, looking alarmed.

"My lady," the maid whispered.
"You have a pert tongue," the man accused.

"And you have impertinent manners. In addition to which," I retorted hotly,
"you are no gentleman!"

His retainers laughed, and the man's face flushed with anger. The steward
put a restraining hand on my arm, but I shook it off, and advanced on my
horse, meaning to continue my journey.

"Methinks," the man said, as I came up to him and made my way between
his horse, and the horse of one of his other companions, "that you are
mistaken about my breeding."

"Methinks," I mocked, turning back to look at him as I passed, "that you are
mistaken in your pretensions, sirrah!"

With that, I laid the whip to my horse's haunches, and broke into a gallop,
with the distressed maid and steward galloping right behind me.

Within a few yards, the man and his companions galloped past us, their
horses' mouths foaming, and the sweat glistening on their over-used bodies.

I did not speak again, until we had reached the inn, which the steward
pointed out to me on our right.

Once in the courtyard, which was teeming with people, a hostler's assistant
helped me to dismount, and I went into the large main room, followed by
my companions. | heard boisterous laughter at one end of the room, and
when I looked in that direction, I recognized the party we had encountered
on the road.

We took rooms for the night. The maid came to my room to help me
undress for the night.

"You should not have spoken so pertly, my lady," she said.

"He was a rude, boisterous fellow," I replied. "He deserved it-running us off
the road."

"He is a very powerful man. It wouldn't do to make an enemy of him."

"Who am I to care?" I exclaimed, turning to gaze at the maid. "You know
my history. The steward, Jock, explained it to you. What have I to do with
the powerful or lordly?"

"But you forget, my lady, that you are traveling as one of their class. He
will not readily forget your offense!"

"Who is he?" I asked.

"His name is Maurice de Rainard. His father is one of the electors in the
court of the Holy Roman Empire. He is a count with lands of his own, and
he has been a soldier of fortune, who has made many important connections
in his adventures."

"Who made him a count?" I asked, slightly puzzled by the hierarchy of the
nobility.

"Why, he was born one. His father was a count, and also a margrave. He is
his father's only son."

"And he became a soldier of fortune?"

"Aye. He promised he would double his father's fortune, and he has almost
done so. He is wealthy and powerful in his own right."
That interested me: a wealthy, powerful man, who did not live at ease but
went to make his own fortune.

People, I had decided, after my remarkable travels which were meager
compared to others, but extraordinary for one in my position, are the
biggest conundrum in the world.

There were people like Joseph, who was so good and generous, until it
came to saving his own skin, and who turned sly and disloyal at the expense
of friends. There were the wealthy who preyed on the poor, and then the
wealthy like Baron deVraie, who could be helpful. There were people like
Victor de Wiere, who could not husband his own resources because he was
slovenly, and spendthrift, and then there were people like Maurice de
Rainard, who, born wealthy, augments his father's fortunes.

I was still musing on this the next day, when we mounted our horses for the
middle part of our journey to Rome. J barely noticed the party of men
headed by the count, who were also mounting their horses.

But the maid pointed out to me, when we were on the road once more, that
he had stared at me keenly while I was mounting.

I was too impatient to stop at an inn for lunch. I felt that we could travel
farther, if we bought some bread and cheese from one of the peasants, and
didn't spend the several hours at midday resting.

I questioned the steward and the maid, who were quite willing to shorten
the trip, in order to reach the comfort of their castle more speedily. I used
one of the gold coins to buy bread and cheese from a peasant on the
highway. From another, I bought a bottle of wine to quench our thirst. We
ate on our horses, sharing the bottle of wine.

"Anyone passing would wonder at a lady sharing her repast with her
servants," the maid said, giggling.

I laughed.
"It is my opinion that the wealthy should share their good fortune," I
replied. "After all, like you, I am a servant, and I know how easy and
pleasant I have made the life of the baron and baroness. Why should they
not make our lives just as easy for our labors?"

"The world would be a crazy, upside-down place if everything went
according to your strange notions!" the steward exclaimed.

"But how very much more pleasant than it is now!" I quipped.

We had been warned about the bravos in Rome and its surrounding
countryside, but my guard was down, and the maid and steward were
relaxed and pleasant-tempered, as we exchanged quips.

It was easier traveling in midday, because most people took to the tree-
covered fields to rest, and the wealthier ones spent the midday hours at inns,

taking their ease from the glare of the midday sun, so the traffic wasn't so
thick.

But as we came to a narrow section of road, which was heavily-lined with
trees, we were suddenly surrounded by rough-looking horsemen. They were
all masked, and my hands and feet turned cold.

I heard the sharp hissing of steel leaving its scabbard, and the leader
approached. His teeth shone brightly in his swarthy face, and I felt my own
face pale with fear.

"Your money or your life!"

For the life of me, I don't know sometimes why I am so perverse! His
demand actually enraged me! We were unarmed, two women and one man
against seven bravos, and I stiffened, and cried "No! Let us pass!"

The leader who had pulled his sword, laughed lustily, and approached me
until his horse was parallel to mine.

With one violent movement, he had pulled me off the horse, and thrown me
across his saddle. Then, with a loud cry to his followers, he headed toward
the copse of trees from which they had appeared.

Behind me, I heard a scream and knew that the maid was in the same plight
that I was.

The yelling of the steward, indicated that he, too, had been captured.

I was thrown roughly to the ground by the leader of the bravos. He
dismounted, and grabbed me, as I was trying to struggle to my feet. In the
process, I hurt my thumbs, which were still heavily bound, and would
remain so for several more weeks, according to the instructions of the
physician.

I cried out when he grabbed me and threw me back to the ground, and then
fell on top of me.

I felt him fumbling with the hem of my gown, and knew that he was going
to rape me.

"You're a fine, spirited wench. I shall enjoy fucking you," he snarled. His
breath smelled strongly of cheap wine and garlic. I moaned, and struggled,
clawing at his face, as he pushed my gown up around my waist, and then
fumbled with his breeches.

His cock, when he pulled it out, was hard, and pulsating with passion.
I scratched his face again, and he slapped me brutally.

"Come help me hold her!" he cried to his men, who were gathering around-
except for those men who were now in the process of violating the
screaming maid. The steward had been tied to a tree, and one of the men
was searching him for valuables.

Three men stepped forward. One of them grabbed my wrists, and pulled
them roughly over my head, while the two other men each grabbed one of
my ankles, spread-eagling them.

For once in my headstrong life, I was very happy that I was no longer
virginal. I would be spared that grief, at least.
I moaned as I felt his cock pressing against my dry, unready cunt. My body
stiffened, as I resisted him as much as I could, but all I did was add to the
hurt of his rape.

He lunged inward, grunting, and I screamed with the pain of his cock
spreading my tight, dry pussy walls.

He crouched over me and lunged inward, each thrust of his fleshy spear
cleaving into my womanhood further. I could hear the low, feral moaning of
the maid, as her own womanhood was violated, and I could have whipped
myself for having, by my hasty reaction, got her and the steward into such a
plight! Another lesson learned about the comparative duties of the upper
and the lower classes! The upper classes must be concerned for those in
their care, and I certainly hadn't considered them.

I had used my own peasant's nature to fight back without regard for those
assigned to protect me, and who would think of my welfare before their
own!

Finally, his cock was fully lodged in my pussy, and he started to saw in and
out of me the way a woodsman would saw the tree he had just felled into
small pieces.

I gnashed my teeth and writhed futilely against the hands of the men who
held me, as I felt his cock plunging into my pussy brutally, his hairy loins
battering my delicate sex flesh.

Again I was amazed, as I suffered the steady, rhythmic assault of the bravo,
how perverse my womanhood was! My womanly cream started to flow
heavily, after a while, and I could feel the tiny button of delight, located at
the apex of my furry mound, becoming inflamed. It became enlarged from
the stimulation of his battering loins, and tingled hotly with erotic pleasure.

I closed my eyes, embarrassed that I had no more control over my bodily
functions, particularly the sexual ones, as I felt his prick rubbing against the
itching walls of my cunt.
His cock was like a firebrand, the fleshy abrasion of it, as he sawed in and
out of me, raising the temperature of my pussy to a feverish pitch.

Around us, other bravos were waiting for their turn. Two of them had
already dropped their dirty breeches, and were caressing their hard
pulsating poles.

My pussy meat swelled with the growing passion which suffused my body
as the rapist sawed in and out of my cunt brutally.

I could feel my juices trickling out of my pussy, down my ass crack, onto
the ground beneath my naked ass, as I quivered with the growing fires of
my lust.

The man's sweat poured onto me, as he lunged into me faster and harder.

I could feel the fleshy tremor of my impending sexual upheaval gripping
my belly. My stomach turned lazy circles in my belly, as my pussy walls
started to quiver around the man's thick, hard-pumping prick.

His cock moved harder and faster, and the throbbing in it became more
intense. I knew he was about to come. His prick, like a rutting snake,
slithered deeper and deeper into the now-moist reaches of my tunnel of lust.

Then I felt the hot wet kiss of his manly juices pouring into me, and I
gasped, as a thrilling shiver of orgasmic ecstasy washed over me.

He emptied his manhood into me, and then pulled out of me abruptly,
rolling over to lie on his back on the ground, his cock, still semi-hard,
gleaming with the combined juices of my lust and his.

He was replaced by another man. My cunt was now thoroughly moistened,
and as he lunged inward, I could feel the rippling of my sexual climax
taking hold of my pussy.

It started to spasm tightly around the man's prick as he plunged into me. I
moaned, forgetting that there were witnesses to my shame, forgetting
everything but the heady pleasure of my growing sexual wildness.
My hips, now out of my rational control, bucked upward, as the second man
fucked me furiously. I felt the spasms intensify, and then spread outward, as
if my whole body were a sexual organ which had become aroused to the
point of climax.

I felt as if I were spinning off a rapidly-spinning disc, and remembered what
Michel had told me after one of his astronomy classes--that there was a
theory that the earth was round.

It had fascinated me at the time, and I kept scanning the horizon to see if it
were true. The horizon did indeed seem to be curved, but I was too ignorant
to speculate further on the strange theory.

At the moment, however, the world did seem to be a ball, and I was

spinning so fast with it, that I was afraid for one light-headed moment, that
I would fall off it!

The orgasm was powerful. I don't know why, given that I was being raped,
and abused, and shamed in this manner, but the relief which flooded me
hotly left me quivering with the warm aftermath.

A third man took the place of the second, and I grunted as I felt his
powerful spear piercing my womanhood.

When he had emptied the juices of his lust into me, the leader of the bravos
was ready to' rape me again.

He lunged inward. I hated him so much that I wanted to kill him. Beside
me, a few feet away, the maid was being systematically raped by the other
four men, while the steward struggled vainly with the ropes which held him
to the tree.

It was while I was looking at the maid, with the bravo raping me again, that
a glint of sunlight fell on his sword, which was lying right beside me. I
looked around.

By now, the men weren't holding me any more, since I had ceased
struggling. The three who had raped me were sitting next to the steward,
drinking from a goatskin bag, and laughing uproariously. I could see the red
wine spilling from the corners of their lips, as they drank.

I waited, watching the leader of these bravos. His eyes were closed, and his
face, as he lunged into me furiously, was a mask of unbridled lust. Very,
very slowly, I reached for the sword, drawing it close to my side.

Then I picked it up, hefting it slightly. It was a short, broad sword, and the
handle was heavy, although the blade was light.

Very suddenly, I brought it up, cutting harshly with the edge of it, across the
bravo's back.

He gasped, and his body stiffened. I arched upward with every bit of
strength I had, and he tumbled off me, a bright flow of blood running from
the ugly gash I had made across his back.

I stood up swiftly, and using both hands on the handle of the sword, I
plunged it deeply into his belly.

Then I swung, rushing toward the three men. They had been shocked into
absolute stillness, and when I swung the sword again, the head of one of the
men fell off!

The other two let out a high-pitched bellow, and, much to my surprise,
rushed to their horses, and mounted them.

With one swift cut, I loosed the steward's bonds. He reached down, and
pulled out the sword of the dead man whose head I had cut off, and the two
of us rushed toward the maid.

The men who had been raping her, had left, leaving the three of us, and two
dead men on our hands.

We were standing, stunned, I with the bloody sword still in my hand,
surveying the remains of our grief, when a horseman galloped into the
clearing. It was Count de Rainard!


CHAPTER FIVE
"How now, my lady," he said.

The sun, spilling in golden shafts through the foliage of the trees, glinted on
his drawn sword.

Behind him were two of his men, their swords also drawn.

"We-we have been set upon by bravos!" the maid shrieked, falling to her
knees and weeping in hysterical relief.

"What brings you here?" I asked, my voice none too steady, as I walked
toward the maid to. comfort her. In the process I dropped the sword.

"We saw your riderless horses by the side of the road, and feared you had
met with a mishap! It is not proper for a woman to travel so lightly
attended," the count finished.

"My lord!" one of his retainers exclaimed, pointing to the dead leader of the
bravos. "That is Luigi, the bravo of the Cardinal Cibbola!"

"It can't be!" the count exclaimed, dismounting. He walked over to the
bravo and examined him, and then looked at me with disbelief.

"Who killed him?" he asked.

"The lady deVraie did," the steward said. "They attacked us, and captured
the women, and then tied me to a tree. She used his own sword on him."

"By my sword," the count said, after a moment's intense pause, "I will
forgive you your insolence. You have come by it honestly, if you have the
strength and courage to kill one of the most feared bravos in all of Italy!
And I am sure the people of Rome will be grateful to you, my lady. He has
terrorized them for years!"

By now, the maid had calmed down. Others of the count's retinue had
entered the clearing. The maid was now standing once more, with my
support.
"I would be grateful, sir," I said, "if you would not breathe a word of this to
anyone. You can only heighten my shame."

The count became grave then, and walked over to us.
"Ranulf! Pietro!" he called, "Assist the lady's maid."
He offered me his arm, which I accepted gratefully.

"Perhaps you would like to stop at an inn and rest a while?" he asked,
suddenly all concern. The arrogance seemed to have melted from his
demeanor, and I could have blushed all the more for his assumption of my
high status. I removed my arm almost brusquely from his, suddenly
remembering my station, and ashamed of the liberty I had taken both with
him and with his credulity. It was really preposterous.

He seemed somewhat taken aback, as I mounted to the high road, and
emerged into the still glaring afternoon sun. Our three horses were being
held by several of the count's retainers, who had waited for him.

I walked up to my horse and mounted him unassisted. I winced as I felt my
battered pussy making contact with the saddle. The front of my gown was
stained with blood. I would have to stop somewhere, and do what I could to
wash it off.

"I thank you for your help, my lord," I said, as the maid and steward
mounted their horses, and waited for my orders.

"With your permission, I would be happy to accompany you to Rome, to
prevent any further mishaps," the count said, bowing to me courteously.

"I thank you again, but that cannot be!" I cried, almost panicked at my
unconscious insolence in treating him as my peer. He looked bewildered,
almost hurt, and I, to prevent further commerce with him, spurred my horse
into movement.

We stopped at dusk to wash ourselves off and to plan our future strategy.

"What if we traveled all night?" I asked the steward.
"It would be dangerous, but possible, since others, this close to Rome,
choose to do the same thing. If we did travel all night, we would be at the
gates of Rome by sunrise, when they are opened."

"Are you willing to take the risk?" I asked.
"Surely," the maid said. "But you must be exhausted."

"And you, too," I replied, patting her shoulder. "I am sorry my hasty temper
got us into this nightmare."

"It would be all the same)" the maid said, shrugging her shoulders
philosophically. "They would have raped us, whether you had responded
meekly or otherwise. Perhaps it is better for us. He is dead, and so is one of
his cohorts, and we are alive, thank God."

The maid blessed herself, and we remounted and moved on our way.
Fortunately, there was a moon that night, and the sky was clear, so we were
able to make our way fairly well. And there were others on the road, all of
them heavily armed.

"How will we explain our presence on the road at night?" the maid asked
anxiously, as we were approaching a lumbering coach, lit with torches, and
surrounded by outriders. "These people will surely ask!"

"We shall say that my sister is ill unto death, and has asked to see me
urgently," I replied. "Just let me do the talking."

One of the outriders of the coach ahead cantered up to us, having espied us
in one of his perpetual circles which he made around the coach.

"God give you good cheer, my lady," the man said, taking off his cap and
bowing respectfully to me. "How is it you are on the road to Rome at this
hour?"

"I have a sister at the Convent of the Holy Angels, who is dying, and has
urgently requested to see me," I replied. "My, err, guardian has given me
permission to undertake the journey. However, we have lost two of our
party to bravos who attacked us this afternoon."

The man cantered up to the coach, and peered in, engaging in some
conversation with the occupant of the coach. Then he cantered back to me.

"The Marchioness Yvette Movraie of Paris has kindly offered you a seat in
her coach. She is going to meet her husband on business in Rome."

"Thank her most sincerely for me. I shall keep to my horse, and not put her
out. However, I would be most grateful for your company the rest of the
way."

Once again the outrider bowed, and reported to the marchioness, and then
we were invited to travel with the coach.

My only reason for not wanting to enter the coach was my rather deranged
condition. My gown and cloak were soiled, and bloodstained, and I most
earnestly desired a warm' bath to clean myself up.

I also knew that the marchioness would engage in conversation to which I
would not be equal, and I shuddered at the thought of my disguise being
discovered.

The roads got better as we approached Rome. We moved steadily, and as
the dawn turned the horizon pink and gold, I could see the white, castellated
mass of the great city of Rome ahead of me.

Already there were crowds outside the gates, many of them camped around
fires. I was starved, and I knew my companions were, too. To my right, the
great Tiber, looking sluggish and gray, murmured.

As the sun rose, the tops of the great belfries and the vaults of the
cathedrals, were picked out and stained in pink and yellow. The sight was
breath-taking.

There was a murmur among the crowd, and I saw a guard, holding a
smoking torch, appear in the great vaulted gateway. The streets were still
dark, although the roofs of the buildings were now a blaze of glory.

I heard a great iron snapping sound, and then the creaking of the gate as it
was opened, and the crowd moved forward.

I cantered up to the side of the coach, and peered in, the cloak of darkness
still mercifully hiding my dishabille, and I bowed to the pale face which
appeared at the window.

"My thanks, my lady, for me and my escorts."

"My pleasure," the woman said, with an indolent, breathy voice. A white
hand fluttered at me slightly, and was then withdrawn into the gloom of the
opulent carriage, and I moved ahead.

Once inside the city, the din, the strangeness of it, assaulted me so violently,
that I knew all at once how tired I was.

I asked the guard where the Convent of the Holy Angels was. He directed
me down a side street, near the walls.

The convent, like everything else in the city, was huge, elaborate, and awe-
inspiring in its impact. I rang the bell of the gate, which was answered
almost immediately by a short, round-faced, cheerful little nun, who
reminded me somewhat of a kitten.

I stated my request and begged lodging and food for my companions. The
gate was opened with alacrity. Our horses were taken by a lackey
summoned by the plump little nun, and we were ushered into a massive hall
with a painted ceiling, the likes of which I had never seen before!

"How beautiful!" I gasped. Around me tapers still cast light on the semi-
shadowed, glossy marble floor. We were led down the corridor and up a
flight of stairs, and we were shown to rooms which were very comfortable--
surprisingly comfortable for a convent, I thought.

Within moments, other nuns were bustling about, filling great tubs with
steaming water, and then pouring oils into the water. I luxuriated in the tub
for a long time, washing away the weariness of my trip. I almost fell asleep
in the tub, and I got out hastily, drying myself with the soft white towel
which the nun had left behind.

She had also laid out a white gown for me, and I slipped into it. The quiet
nun, who said her name was Annette, a postulant, removed the tub, and then
brought me bread and fruit and a steaming cup of milk, which I drank
down.

Then I fell asleep on the soft bed. When I awoke, I could tell from the
position of the sun that it was late afternoon.

I hastened down the hall to where I knew the maid was sleeping. She, too,
had just arisen, very refreshed.

"I've never seen such comfortable rooms for a convent," I replied.

"This is not just any convent. Here, the illegitimate daughters of the nobility
reside, or those for whom there was no decent marriage dower," the maid
replied.

"Where is the steward?" I asked.
"Out in the stables, where the male help reside," the maid said.
I sat down on one of the comfortable chairs to ponder my new knowledge.

"The rich aren't much happier than we are, are they? Illegitimate daughters,
daughters with no dowry, immured in convents," I said.

"We all have our problems, my lady."

"You should stop calling me my lady," I answered the maid. "After all, my
journey is finished, and you are under no obligation to me any more."

Once again the maid shrugged her shoulders, philosophically.

"It feels natural, my lady, if you will forgive me. I know you are a servant
like me, but we have traveled a long way together, and, frankly, I admire
you and your courage."

I blushed at her compliment and hugged her. Then I went back to my room,
to put on my clothes.

During the time I had slept, they had been cleaned. Even the blood was
removed from them. I wondered at the skill of the nuns as I put the simple,
well-made gown on, and then laced myself into my boots, which had been
polished.

I sat down to wait and think. I didn't have much time for either. There was a
gentle knock on the door.

"Come in," I said.

The door opened, and the plump little nun who had brought us in at dawn,
appeared, curtseying slightly.

"The abbess will see you now, if you are refreshed," she said.

I rose and followed her down the corridor to the first floor. There, off the
main corridor, in a magnificent room, I met the baron's sister, Patrice. She
was tall and elegant, still young, and beautiful.

She was also warm and cordial. She rose from the seat in which she was
sitting, and approached me, holding out her hand in welcome. I took it and
bowed over it.

"Come, let us sit and talk," she said, after I had handed her her brother's
letter. Before the couch was an ornately carved table. On it was a decanter
of sweet wine, sweetmeats, and fruit. She poured wine for me, and invited
me to help myself to what pleased me.

I was hungry and grateful for the invitation. When she had finished reading
the letter, she clucked her tongue.

"Extraordinary! What a remarkably resourceful woman you are," she said.
She patted my hand and invited me to tell my story, which I did in
considerable detail, even relating my embarrassment at having been
familiar with the count after being set upon by bravos.

"Was the count quite sure it was Luigi?" Abbess Patrice asked me.
"Quite sure," I replied.

"Hmm. You must never repeat this story--at least, not for now. Luigi was
most valued by the Cardinal Cibbola, and he is the man to help you."

I gasped at the thought.

"Not to worry!" she said, heartily, patting me on my shoulder. "He is
corrupt, but powerful, and in this city of so many corrupt and powerful
prelates and nobility, he is one of the most feared and listened-to. He has
the ear of the pope, and that is what you need to suspend the judgment of
excommunication."

I shuddered at the thought of having to be pleasant to another evil priest.
The rest of the day, and early evening passed quietly and pleasantly. In the
back of the convent was a huge, lovely garden, where we walked for a
while, talking and discussing strategy.

The maid and steward were to stay until dawn, when they would set out for
the castle in Venice, entrusted with a letter from the Abbess Patrice to her
brother. The physician of the Abbess Patrice was called to examine my
thumbs. He took off the bindings, giving me strict instructions not to lift or
do heavy work with them, but to exercise them gently. The bones had
healed well, he said, although they were probably still weak, but he was
afraid if they were immobilized further, I would lose all use of them. It hurt
to exercise them, but it was a relief to have them free of the bandages,
which I had hidden with gloves given to me by the baron.

I retired early, still exhausted from my travels, and wanting to rise early to
bid the maid and the steward God .speed and to thank them for their
services. There was music in the parlor, a lute and a spinet, and some of the
nuns were singing. The songs were not religious.
Once again, | was fascinated by the free and easy, luxurious living in the
convent. These nuns were worldly, highly-placed in the world, and most of
them were here against their will.

I pitied them, and could not find it in my heart to blame them for their
frivolity.

Sometime during the night, I was startled awake. From beyond my door, I
heard whispers and scurrying footsteps.

Curious, and a little alarmed, I went to the door, and opened it cautiously.
The door across the wide hall from mine was opened.

Thinking that perhaps one of the nuns was ill, I walked over to the room
which was softly lit with candlelight. What I saw in the room will remain
branded in my memory for the rest of my life!

There were several beautiful women there, and I recognized all of them as
nuns to whom I had been introduced that afternoon.

One of them was the plump little Sister Ann, and two others who were
Sister Marina and Sister Stella. The other two women in the room, I did not
recognize.

They were all stark naked!

On the large bed, in the thickly-carpeted room, Sister Ann was squatting on
the breasts of Sister Marina. The bed, placed against the side wall, was so
situated, that I could see everything!

And the sight drove me wild with sensual excitement, so that I felt a
familiar tingling in my pussy lips.

Sister Stella's head was propped up by two pillows, and her pink tongue
was flicking out at Sister Ann's pussy. I could almost smell the pungent
aroma of sexual excitement in the room, as the other nuns watched, some of
them rubbing their own swollen pussies with their fingers.
Sister Ann, her plump, but well-rounded, body bouncing erotically, was
rocking back and forth. The sight was devastating to me!

As I watched, I could feel my own pussy lips swelling, as Sister Stella's
tongue slid out repeatedly, licking at Sister Ann's plump, dark-furred love
mound.

One of the sisters whom I didn't know by name, got up behind Sister Ann,
and reached around to embrace her. I saw the sister's hands caressing Sister
Ann's plump, pendulous breasts.

Sister Ann moaned, and sagged backward, while her hips still rocked back
and forth. Sister Stella's lips and cheeks were coated with a gleaming patina
of juices which had obviously flowed from Sister Ann's cunt.

"Oooh, delight!" Sister Ann sighed, as the unknown sister continued to
caress her breasts, pulling on her pink, puckered little nipples, until they
stood out quite prominently from her rounded hillocks of flesh.

I felt as if I were drowning in flesh, as I watched. I could almost feel the
unknown sister's hands kneading my own breasts. Against the soft fabric of
my nightgown, my nipples pushed, and tingled.

I reached up and started to caress them, as I watched Sister Stella and Sister
Ann indulging in their carnal play.

My juices flowed heavily from my pussy, and stained the soft inner flesh of
my thighs. I was breathing heavily, and the throbbing in my sex flesh
became more and more intense.

Strange as it may seem to me now, I had never masturbated, and didn't
know, until IT watched these sad, corrupted nuns going at it, that it was
possible to give to myself the same pleasure which a man could give me.

Sister Ann's gyrations became more and more violent, and I knew she was
close to a sexual crisis from the way she trembled.
Her magnificent breasts bobbed back and forth as she rocked faster and
faster on Sister Stella's mouth.

"Ohh, ahhh!" she cried. I saw her body shudder, and heard the murmurs of
the other nuns, as their hands rubbed up and down over their swollen meat
with excitement, watching the three nuns on the bed.

Unable to bear another moment, and needing to discharge the weight of my
own passion, I retired to my room, closing the door carefully after me.

I lifted my gown up over my head, and lay down naked on the bed.

Then I started to caress myself, lavishing gentle and thorough attention on
my breasts.

Beneath my probing palms, my tits seemed to swell, and the nipples
puckered, tingling fiercely with delight. My heart pounded heavily against
my rib cage and my palms were sweating with the heated excitement which
swelled in my breast, and drove me crazy. Slowly, almost cautiously, never
having done this before, and thinking that it must be some kind of sin, I
moved my hands down over my flat belly. My flesh actually jumped with
the soft contact of my sweating palms. Finally, after a pause which seemed
infinite to me, I softly ran my fingers through my pussy hair.

Once again, I had the sensation that my flesh was jumping with excitement,
as if all my nerve endings were tingling and alive with erotic upheaval.

I could hear my breathing which sounded heavy and harsh in the dark room.
Occasionally, through my door, I would hear some erotic sounds from the
other room, where they had so improvidently left the door open, and the
memory of what I had seen inflamed me further.

I ran the tip of my forefinger experimentally up and down over my cunt slit,
and gasped at the incredible, if strange, pleasure I was giving myself. It was
actually possible to stimulate oneself. It wasn't as good as having a man, but
at least I cared enough for myself not to bruise myself as Brother Rudolph
and Luigi had!
I bent my knees up and pressed the soles of my feet against the mattress,
spreading my thighs wide. The gesture caused my inner pink meat to flower
outward, spreading open to the stimulation of my hand.

Very slowly, building up the pressure to an intolerable pitch, I rubbed up
and down over the honeyed pink folds of my pussy, arching my hips up
against my prying, caressing hand, as I did so.

My juices started to flow heavily from my pussy, and I moaned with the
growing pleasure which was filling me.

I slid the tip of my forefinger into my tiny hole, and felt the juices flowing
from it lubricating my prying digit. My cuntal walls clamped excitedly
around the finger, heightening the wild chaos of carnal pleasure which
seethed in me.

"Ohhh," I moaned. I forgot about being a damned woman, forgot about sin.
The delectable sensations which surged through me drove me crazy with
desire.

I found the hard little button at the tip of my cunt cleft, and started to
squeeze it, pull on it, rub up and down on it. The more I stimulated it, the
more excited I seemed to become, until my body was bouncing furiously up
and down on the bed.

With my other hand, I continued to caress my breasts, teasing my flesh to
heighten the intensity of the pleasure which spilled through me.

I felt as if my insides had melted. My whole body arched upward, as I
continued to rub the hard little nubbin of delight over and over again,
moaning with delectable agony, as I felt my climax approaching with
ponderous slowness.

My eyes were now tightly closed, and behind them bright colors flashed, as
I continued to caress the passion bloated folds of pink flesh.

Then, I had a brilliant idea. I felt the need to feel a cock in my pussy, so |
removed my hand from my breasts, and inserted my finger into my
creaming cunt.

My itching pussy walls responded by seeming to suck on the finger as I
pumped it in and out of my cunt with increasing passion, while my other
hand still teased and caressed my bloated pussy lips.

Then the explosion happened in the middle of my belly. My cunt seemed to
split apart, and the delicious convulsions shot through me with increasing
speed and frenzy.

My body writhed and bounced furiously on the bed, as I made the delicious
abandoned pleasure I had felt with Joseph, and Brother Rudolph, and the
baron, happen again.

The sweat poured from my body as I continued to pump my finger in and
out of my convulsing hole of lust, while my other hand, glistening with the
juices which coated my sex flesh, rubbed up and down over the sensitive
flesh faster and more furiously.

The orgasm peaked, and then faded away, but slowly, softly. I continued to
rub my fingers up and down, until the last spasm was only a warm, erotic
memory.

Then quivering with pleasure, and thoroughly relaxed, I curled up and went
to sleep. I felt very happy at having discovered the joys of self-stimulation.

Since I had already learned the joys of carnal intercourse, and had resigned
myself to never being married, at least I could please myself!

In my hectic, if deprived life, that was one consolation.


CHAPTER SIX

The next morning, I rose and bid the maid and the steward goodbye.
Although I could read, I couldn't write, so I was deprived of the pleasure of
sending a note of thanks to the baron, but I asked them to relay my message
to Jock, the steward, who could pass it on to the baron.
The next month went extremely well for me, although I was confronted
daily with shocks.

I discovered that many prominent prelates visited this convent, and were
sexually pleased by the nuns who had taken vows of chastity. These same
prelates with whom they copulated, would then hear their confessions and
shrive them!

I was constantly bewildered by the contradictions, the lack of civilization in
the city which was considered one of the most civilized in the world.

By the end of the first week of residence in the convent, the abbess Patrice
had discovered I could read, and gave me the pleasurable chore of reading
to her. After a while, I acquired considerable facility.

The nuns, however corrupt they were, were also generous and amiable and
easy-going. They all took me under their wings, and I learned much, and
even, with the permission of the abbess's physician, started to learn how to
write. | also learned to sew and do fine embroidery, and I was regaled every
night with music and songs, most of them bawdy, but funny, and I relaxed,
almost thinking that this luxurious, sinful life was normal and natural.

I voiced my doubts to the abbess Patrice one afternoon, when we were
talking. She had been talking about an impending visit of the Cardinal
Cibbola, and again warned me to please him.

"Are you referring to sexual matters?" I asked her outright.
She laughed, and kissed my cheek.

"My word, yes!"

"But this is a great sin!"

"My darling, a sin can be forgiven--if you are in the church.
Excommunicated, there is no Christian consolation for you."

"If you will forgive me, Abbess Patrice, I-I'm puzzled and disturbed. This
city is so corrupt, the church is corrupt and there is much violence here.
And you and the other sisters--well, you are so kind and sweet and good,
and yet you violate your vows. Please forgive my temerity in speaking so to
you, because I would never do anything but be loving and very grateful for
your kindness, and I am such a sinner, that I would never judge you, but I
don't understand how you can live this way!"

"I know," the abbess Patrice said, rising abruptly from the couch, and going
to the large window which overlooked the garden. "I do not know how to
explain it to you. You with your own good sense see what's going on. I shall
not rationalize our indolent, carnal life. No, nor the sins we commit," she
said, turning to face me.

"But it is a hard, cruel world, and we are all victims in a way. None of us
wanted to be consigned to this convent, which was built with the money of
rich men who didn't want to keep their daughters, legitimate or otherwise.

"Of course, there are greedy prelates who would bless the convent, and
allow us to make a mockery of the charter of the order of nuns to whom we
are affiliated. I don't know what to tell you. I know that my brother says you
are a comely, bright young woman of exceptional parts, and I agree with
him. I know you have been victimized by that beastly abbe, Pierre, and that
a representative of God raped you and then, when you boldly stood up to
him, to confront him with his sin, he excommunicated you.

"That's injustice enough, and whatever means I can use to get you back in
the church, where you will have the consolation of your faith, that I will do-
-even if it means using the same devious means by which you were unjustly
cut off from the sacraments.

"As a member of the Inquisition, Brother Rudolph has the power of Rome,
and what he said is binding, until we can get the pope to unbind it!"

"I thank you," I said, after a pause to digest what she had said. I looked at
her, and such a feeling of pity overwhelmed me, that I rose and hugged her,
kissing her warmly on her cheek.

Then I blushed for my temerity.
"Forgive me," I said.

"Don't be foolish! You are a lady, no matter what your birth or
circumstances, and that is one of the things we are trying to teach you, my
dear. I want you to stop thinking of yourself as a servant.

"It is my brother's hope to find you some suitable match, something above
your station, and I think he is correct in his assumption that you would be
more suited to a better life."

"But I have no dowry!" I exclaimed.

"Don't worry about it," Abbess Patrice laughed. "We will worry about the
little things later. The first thing we must do is get you back in the graces of
the church, and that is going to require a sin on your part--the sin of
copulating with a cardinal. Are you willing?"

"I will do whatever I have to to release me from my terrible judgment," I
said, feeling my hands and feet grow cold and numb.

"Well-spoken," Abbess Patrice exclaimed. "Now let us get back to the third
chapter of our lovely love story."

The "lovely love story" was an erotic novel, and the chapter I was reading
detailed explicit sexual acts which fascinated me-a woman who takes a
man's member into her mouth. I must confess that the thought aroused me
enormously, and I even salivated at the thought.

I met the cardinal two nights later. He arrived with two other red-garbed
prelates. I was no longer awed at meeting a prince of the church. T would
rather have had conversation with the saintly Cardinal Beauregard of whom
Jock had spoken, than have to appear seductive to the corrupt Cardinal
Cibbola, but such was my fate.

Late that afternoon, before they were to arrive, I took a bath, which was
soaked in fragrant oils, and Abbess Patrice had provided me with some of
her own clothing so that I could be suitably attired.
When she introduced me to the cardinal, my heart froze in my breast. He
was a lean man with keen, piercing dark eyes, and a mean mouth. His lean
hand, when he took mine and brought it to his lips, was ice cold, but steady.
I suspected a great physical strength in the man from the way he grasped
my hand.

Several of the nuns sat in the elegant parlor of the convent, sipping wine
and sweets which the visiting prelates had brought for our pleasure. They
had also brought some new music, and some new novels, all of them
lavishly illustrated and definitely of a sexual nature.

Abbess Patrice had told me to make no move that night, except to please the
cardinal, and when I felt his hand on my knee, caressing me through the
thin, lovely fabric of the gown which Abbess Patrice had lent me, I
trembled, and for a while, closed my eyes.

I tried to think of Joseph, but all I could see was the craven, crafty look on
his face after he had testified against me at the inquisition. Then I tried to
think of the baron, which was my only other decent sexual experience but
his face had faded, and I realized with regret that I had lost much of my
respect for him because of his fear of the Inquisition, and his insistence on
taking his rights with my body.

With a sudden flash, which shocked me, the face which sprang clear to my
mind's eye was that of the count Maurice de Rainard. I was so startled that I
jumped and gasped, my heart fluttering in my breast.

I brought one of my hands to my breast, and realized that the cardinal was
chuckling beside me.

"So that particular spot pleases you, ehh?" he asked, his voice low,
lascivious, his eyes glowing with lust. He had his hand part way up my
thigh, and he had pressed the fabric of the gown between my legs so that he
could caress the soft inner flesh of my thighs.

Granted I knew I would enjoy the caresses under different circumstances, I
certainly did not welcome his attentions, but I would have to entertain him.
"Oh, yes," I said, blushing furiously with the shame of my lie and what I
was going to do.

"Shall we go to your room, my dear?" he asked me, his voice quivering.

Without a word, I rose from the couch where I was sitting, and slipped
quietly from the room, as I had been instructed to do. The cardinal was right
behind me.

He closed the door on the laughing group inside, and I had never felt more
alone in my life, like a lost waif, a damned soul. And I was doing all this so
that I wouldn't be damned!

I took him without a word, to my room. There were candles burning on the
desk, on which a volume of Italian poetry stood, which I was trying to read
with the help of Sister Madeline who spoke Italian fluently.

"Ahh, you enjoy these?" he asked me, going up to the desk. I was staring at
the bed, which some thoughtful nun had turned down.

"What?" I asked, looking up at him startled.

"You like his poetry?" he asked, indicating the book with one finger. That
finger pointed at me could spell life or death, I realized, and I shuddered,
and then, for no reason at all, laughed.

He desisted from his questioning. I wanted to tell him nothing about myself,
had no desire to share my inner life with this evil man.

He walked toward me and pulled me into his arms, and kissed me
passionately, his tongue slithering into my hot oral cavity.

I relaxed, and threw my arms around his neck, running my fingers through
his hair, as I sucked on his prying tongue.

In spite of all my revulsion, my juices started to flow, which relieved me
somewhat. It would make my coupling with the cardinal much more
pleasant, and I was determined to get as much pleasure from it as I could.
I sagged against his body, and through his bright, rich soutane, I could feel
his hardening manhood throbbing against my love mound.

He released me from his embrace, and removed the sash around his slender
waist, and then began to unbutton the soutane.

I watched helplessly while he unbuttoned two of dozens of buttons which
went all the way down, and then, wanting to cover my own confusion, |
walked up to him.

"Allow me, your Excellency," I murmured. I busied myself with
unbuttoning his long gown, while he caressed my breasts, and then, as |
stooped for the lower buttons, my hair.

I stood up, having undone the last button, and he slid the gown from his
spare body and placed it over the back of a chair. Then he pulled off the
silken undergarment he was wearing, revealing a hard, trim body which was
obviously strong.

His cock was stiff, and it pulsated visibly.

He walked over to the bed, and sat down on it, his cock sprouting like some
lurid stalk from his thick, dark pubic bush. I started to undress myself, my
fingers trembling as I worked at the laces of the gown.

Every now and then, I would smile at him, but I was also blushing, and I
was afraid that the cynical prelate might be displeased with my obvious
embarrassment.

If he were, he said nothing, until I walked over to the bed, naked, and sat
down beside him.

"You are shy," he said, and there was a different quality, less cruelty in his
voice.

"Yes," I murmured, lowering my head.

"You shouldn't be ashamed. Modesty is an exquisite virtue in a woman," he
said. With his hand, he tilted my head up so that I was looking at him. Then
his face closed in on me. With an almost fierce growl, his lips captured
mine, and he pushed me back on the bed, his hand caressing my breasts
hungrily, and then moving downward over my belly, until he had cupped
my muff.

I moaned, and spread my legs, to give him freer access to his prying hand.
His finger, rubbing up and down over my cunt cleft incited me to sexual
riot.

My ears started to ring with the heated pulsations of my blood, and I
responded to him, as I became more and more excited.

His body moved over mine, and he knelt between my legs, his arms braced
on either side of my naked, quivering body.

I felt the bulbous head of his prick pressing against my honeyed hole, and
then he thrust inward.

I gasped with the pleasure, as I felt his prick slithering into my hot,
creaming pussy, the thickness of his prick spreading my pussy walls wide.

The passionate throbbing which had suffused my sex flesh, became more
intense as the cardinal buried his massive shaft to the hilt in my creaming
nest of lust.

My pussy flesh was already swollen with the raging lust which had taken
possession of me, as he rested for a moment, his throbbing cock pulsating
powerfully in my cunt.

I raised my knees, and spread my thighs wide, as he started to move in me,
pulling his prick out to the tip, and then sliding it inward again, along the
fleshy walls of my quivering, moistened tunnel.

The cardinal pressed his hot, sweating body down on mine, and started to
fuck me. At first, his strokes were steady, and fairly slow, and I started to
squirm under him as I felt my lusty excitement building.
I responded ardently, wanting to lose myself in that delicious moment of
insanity which would help me forget that I was committing a great sin-I was
fucking a cardinal!

I threw my arms around his sweating neck, and brought his lips down to

mine, to kiss him, as he drove his cock deeper and deeper into my hot little
hole.

"Ahh!" the cardinal gasped, as he felt me bucking up against his down-
thrusting loins.

My tits, flattened against the cardinal's chest, throbbed wantonly with the
lusty pleasure which had taken possession of my body. My nipples tingled
as if I were in the middle of a violent lightning storm, and the waves of bliss
surged through my aroused, hot belly.

The cardinal's cock started to move in my pussy faster and faster. I arched
upward, feeling his hard-driving rod of lust rubbing against my creaming
hungry pussy walls, driving me into a frenzy of wanton delight.

My body bounced and squirmed against the cardinal's sweating torso. The
more excited I became, the less conscious I was of the fact that I was
fucking the cardinal.

I closed my eyes, and once again, I was shocked to find behind my closed
eyes, the vision of the count de Rainard. I didn't try to quell the memory. It
aroused me enormously!

And that worked in my favor.

The cardinal's prick was pounding in and out of my pussy with increasing
frenzy. The sweat poured from his flesh, and mixed with my own sex sweat,
so that I felt our skin was fused together with the heat and moisture of our
mutual passion.

He worked his arms under my quivering, sweating back, and pressed me
even more tightly against his chest. I could feel his heart pounding against
my right breast, counterpointing the violent pulsations of my own heart, and
my insides seemed to melt.

I threw my legs up in the air, remembering how it had pleased the baron,
and wrapped them around the cardinal's undulating, sweating waist.

"Ahh, good, so good!" he muttered, his lips now pressed against the soft
flesh of my neck.

My little hard nubbin of delight tingled hotly and felt as if it were on fire, as
the cardinal's wet hairy loins slammed into my pussy meat with increasing
strength and speed.

I ground my pink flesh against his hairy loins, knowing that it would
heighten my pleasure, and then I started to pant.

I felt that pleasurable tension I had come to recognize as preceding my
sexual release, gripping at my muscles, and I moaned, as I squirmed even
more hotly under the cardinal's humping body.

His thick rod, now lubricated with my juices, which poured heavily from
my overheated tunnel of love, massaged the itching walls of my cunt,
inflaming me still further.

Again and again, the cardinal's prick lunged into the teeming depths of my
womanhood. I had goose flesh covering my entire body, as the wild
pleasure grew more and more intense.

I clutched at the cardinal's neck, and then raked my fingernails over his
back, leaving behind welts to remind him of my passion.

I fucked, the cardinal like a rutting wild animal, moaning and squealing
furiously beneath his body.

Then I felt the soft spasms of an orgasm rippling through my flesh. The
cardinal slammed into me with increasing speed and strength, and finally I
knew that he was going to come, as I felt his prick swelling, pushing
outward against my quivering pussy walls.
His inward thrusts were now so violent that he was actually jarring my
body, but it only heightened the obscene pleasure which I felt.

The spasms got more and more intense, and seemed to reach deeper into the
pit of my being. I was actually light-headed, and had the sensation that I
was going to float off the bed, as I humped up against the cardinal's down-
thrusting loins.

He growled, and I felt his cock spitting forth the thick, warm wads of juice
which I always enjoyed so much.

His juices mixed hotly with my own come cream, and swelled the slimy
tide which had been flowing steadily from my well-stuffed pussy.

I squealed and lunged up at him as my orgasm started to peak. My pussy
felt as if it had turned into a wet, sucking mouth, which was drawing all the
juices out of the cardinal's body.

I started to kick my heels against the cardinal's buttocks as they rose and
fell with his humping motions. I couldn't believe how wanton I was being,
and I no longer cared!

I was beside myself with the sweet insanity which had taken possession of
me.

The cardinal emptied his balls into my pussy, and I remembered, as I felt
the hairy, fleshy sacs slapping wetly against my quivering, humping ass
cheeks, how Abbess Patrice had explained that the juices which spit from a
man's cock, are stored in the fleshy sacs which hang beneath his long rod.
That had been occasioned by some passage in one of the erotic novels,
which I read to her interminably.

With a loud groan, the cardinal's body collapsed on top of mine. My orgasm
had been so violent, that it was some time before my heart stopped
pounding.

Finally, he pulled his phallus from my soggy swamp of lust, and then sat up.
Going to the desk, he picked up the book of poetry and brought it back to
the bed, along with a candle, which he set on the night stand.
"Here, read," he said.

"Oh, but I can't," I gasped, as I sat up, feeling our juices flowing from my
hot, still quivering little cunt.

"Please," he said.

I started to read, hesitantly, stumbling over many words in the process. The
cardinal was surprisingly gentle and patient. His eyes glowed as I read what
to him must have been very familiar lines and thought, and he frequently
stopped me, corrected my pronunciation, and then smiled when I read the
words correctly.

He let me read for a long time before he stopped me to fuck me again, and
then he washed himself, and dressed.

"I must leave. There is much I have to do," he said, looking at me keenly.
"But I should like to see you again."

"I am honored," I said, giving him a little curtsey, and blushing.
He patted my cheek gently.

"You are a delightful, modest little creature," he said, smiling. He left,
leaving me to wonder about the effect I had had on him.

About an hour later, I was curled up in my bed, when there was a knocking
on the door. "Come in," I said, sitting up in the bed. Abbess Patrice came
into the room, beaming. She was carrying a glass of wine, which she set
down on the night stand for me.

"My dear," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, and taking my hand in
hers, caressing it, "you did wonderfully! He was highly complimentary
about you to me. Whatever possessed you to read Italian poetry to him?"

"He-he asked me to! Sister Madeline has been trying to teach me Italian,
and there was a book of lyrics opened on the desk, which I had failed to put
away."

"Fortunate for you! And we shall intensify your lessons. The cardinal, you
must know, is a great Italian patriot, with an abiding love for all things
Italian. How wonderful that you should be so keen to learn! You have made
quite a conquest! Sleep now, my dear. Tomorrow is another day."

She kissed me softly on my cheek, and then made the sign of the cross on
my forehead. Such gestures no longer shocked me or bewildered me.

These women would have all been good, virtuous women, if they had not
been consigned to their imprisonment, and prison it was, however,
luxuriously appointed.

And in spite of their failings, they did have faith and strove to make amends
for the failings in their life.

This was the start of a friendship-a bizarre one--which lasted for over a
year, with the Cardinal Cibbola.

The abbess Patrice did intensify my lessons. I was now learning, not only
how to write, but how to read Latin and Italian. Fortunately, I learned easily
and my teachers were good-natured and pleasant, and the days passed, and
passed, until I had been in the convent of the Holy Angels for almost a year.
I had passed my seventeenth birthday quietly, not informing anyone of it.

I was now fully developed, and I knew I was beautiful, but the knowledge
sat heavily on me, weighed me down.

I was a peasant, living luxuriously like a fine lady, learning things no
peasant ever learned, and virtually cohabiting with a cardinal who came at
all hours of the day or night to be with me.

After we would fuck together, I would read Latin poetry, or Italian. He
would talk to me about affairs of state.

The crafty, licentious Pope, he finally told me, toward the end of that year,
was dying, was possibly being systematically poisoned.
When I relayed this information to Abbess Patrice, she was appalled.

"Of course, I have no sympathy for him, but if Cardinal Cibbola cannot
have his ear, then we will have to think of something else. Perhaps it is time
to tell him your tale, and make your request. We haven't a moment to lose.
Whoever is poisoning him will prolong his suffering, no doubt. Speak to
him the next time you are with him."

I was relieved! I didn't like coupling with the cardinal, for all his surprising
interest in me, and the next time he came, I was waiting for him with baited
breath, afraid that I would die from the great anxiety which had gripped me.

He came late, two nights later.

"How-how is His Holiness?" I asked him.

The cardinal, undressing, shook his head.

"Very, very bad. The symptoms get worse and worse, and he has horrible
convulsions. I do not know how much longer his suffering will go on."

"Come to bed, my love," I said, hoping the cardinal did not sense the
hollowness of my seductive invitation. "I will soothe your troubles away."

He walked toward me, his cock erect, and like a fleshy sword, just waiting
to pierce through the secrets of my womanhood.

I had decided to talk to him after he was satisfied, hoping he would be in a
more receptive mood then.


CHAPTER SEVEN

When he lay down on the bed, I let him kiss me and fondle my magnificent
‘breasts for a while, and then I sat up. I was slightly nervous about what I
intended to do, but if this was to be the night that I applied to the Cardinal
for redress, it had to be special.

I leaned over, and with my palm sweating, I grasped his massive rod of
flesh at its hairy base, and caressed it. I had been waiting now for almost a
year, and now it looked as though my chance might be snatched from me,
not by any natural occurrence, but by the malice of men.

I started to move my sweating palm up and down on his prick, as the
cardinal caressed my bare back, and then my breasts. The skin of a man's
prick always seems so incredibly soft to me, to cover such pulsating, hot
hardness!

I marveled at his organ, and shivered, knowing the delight I received from
it, every time he speared me with it.

Then I bent over, and flicked my tongue out. There was a pearly drop of
moisture trembling at the slit on the head of his prick, and I slurped it up
with my tongue, tasting it somewhat nervously.

The cardinal moaned, and I knew he was pleased. I was also pleased to find
that the faint taste on the tip of my tongue was not at all unpleasant. It was
strange, slightly salty, and musky.

I swallowed it, and then opened my mouth and encased the head of his cock
in my orifice. I drove the tip of my tongue into the little slit at the tip of his
cock, and the cardinal bucked upward.

"Oh, yes!" he gasped, trembling with the passion which possessed him. I
started to move down on his prick, feeling it sliding into my mouth,
pulsating against the roof of my mouth, as my tongue lashed at the
throbbing sides of his hot pole.

I felt the cardinal tugging at my legs. I removed my mouth and looked at
him, puzzled.

"One good turn deserves another, my dear," he said. "I do know the golden
rule."

He indicated that I was to lie on him, with my legs spread on either side of
his head.
Curious, I did as he requested, and once again, I enclosed his cock in my
mouth and started to suck on it softly.

I was satisfying my own curiosity while giving pleasure to the cardinal, and
I took my time, examining his cock with its network of blue veins with the
tip of my tongue, as I moved downward again.

And then I stopped and stiffened, as I felt his warm, wet tongue sliding up
and down over my pussy lips.

I gasped with the incredible pleasure, and then gagged, as his cock head
butted against the entrance to my throat.

I remembered the scene vividly when I had spied on Sister Stella and Sister
Ann, when Sister Ann was having this same service performed on her own
pussy, and now I knew what I was missing, as I felt the cardinal's tongue
prying between my plump white outer lips to get at the soft meat between.

My pink sex flesh swelled rapidly as I felt his tongue flickering up and
down over the pink folds of skin, each thrust of his tongue prying deeper
and deeper into my wet nest of lust.

In my excitement, I started to bob up and down on his prick harder and
faster, my tongue circling his massive pole, as I strove to give him every
inch of pleasure I could.

The cardinal's hands moved to my dimpled, firm ass, and he began to caress
my round half-moons of flesh, until I felt my growing excitement impelling
my hips to rock up and down. At first the motions were subtle and smooth,
but as my excitement built, I got more and more frenzied, almost palsied in
my motions.

Once again I gagged, as I felt his cock head butting against the entrance to
my throat. I withdrew partially, puzzled, since I had never read about that
reaction, and tried again. This time I gagged, and the cardinal laughed.

"Swallow," he said, removing his mouth from my thickly-furred muff.
I started to swallow as I slid down on his cock again. This time, as his prick
hit against the opening of my throat, the gag reflex was slight. T kept
swallowing and sucking on his cock, and felt it sliding into my throat,
stretching the narrow passage.

At first it was uncomfortable. Once his prick was in my throat, I could no
longer breathe, but I was determined to take in all of his cock.

My face turned beet-red, and my ears were ringing when I finally felt his
pubic hairs brushing against my nose and mouth. Unable to hold my breath
any longer, I moved up until his cock was in my mouth, but no longer
lodged in my throat.

I moved downward again, my wet tongue gliding constantly around the
pulsating shaft, and once again I forestalled the gagging reflex by
swallowing hard.

Once again, I got his prick into my mouth entirely, and once again, I lost
my breath and had to pull off to take a breath.

But then, it dawned on me! That was the way the women in the books must
have done it--especially the ones who took in all of the man's prick.

After a few tries, I managed to develop a steady rhythm. I bounced up and
down on his prick, feeling my saliva dribbling out of my distended lips,
trickling down my chin.

The cardinal was sliding his tongue steadily up and down over my pussy
meat, and the sensation was heightening my excitement. It was such a
fabulous sensation that it took my breath away.

He gripped the back of my thighs, and caressed my soft ass flesh, as he slid
his tongue up and down over my pussy.

My hips were now squirming hotly against the cardinals skilled mouth. I
felt the tip of his tongue flicking against my hard little love button, and an
explosion of pleasure caused my juices to gush hotly from my mouth.
I could feel them trickling onto the cardinal's chin, and I wondered vaguely,
as | pumped up and down on his prick, if it bothered him. But it didn't seem
to. The tip of his tongue now thrust into my tight little nest of lust, and I felt
my cuntal walls closing in around his glossal invader.

I was getting more and more excited, especially as I acquired more skill at
sucking the cardinal's cock. His prick pulsated with increasing strength in
my mouth as I moved up and down over his thick member.

His juices kept trickling out of the tiny slit, and the taste filled my mouth. I
moaned against his cock, and then felt him bucking up against me.

I reached under his cock, and squeezed his hairy sacs. The flesh was
wrinkled, but hot, and covered with hairs. As I squeezed I felt a very hard
nut encased in the middle of each sac.

These were where his juice was stored, this much I knew, but the anatomy
of his genitals puzzled me. I kept squeezing the hairy balls, enjoying the
resilience of the little sacs, the strange feeling of that hard little nubbin
inside each globe of flesh, as I continued to move up and down on his prick.

Every time his bulbous cock head lodged in my throat, I would gulp noisily
around it, massaging the pulsating, soft, oozing flesh, which prevented the
gag reflex.

The cardinal's tongue moved hotly up and down over my pussy flesh. He
seemed to go slightly berserk under me. I could feel a wild tremor of
passion surging through his body, felt his hips moving up, slamming against
my chin and mouth.

His pubic hairs tickled my nose and mouth, as he ground his hairy loins
against my sucking orifice.

My tongue lashed at his throbbing, fleshy shaft, as it pierced my throat
again and again, and with increasing force.

By now, I was sweating and trembling with my own wild passion. |
continued to caress his balls, as I sucked on his prick. His hips surged
upward, and he kept slamming his hairy loins against my mouth, as I teased
him steadily.

I felt as if my body were melting in the heat of my own pleasure, as the
cardinal moved his tongue up and down over my pussy, the tip of it flicking
back and forth over my elongated and tingling little love button.

I could hear the wet smacking noises of his mouth as he sucked on my
pussy, and the more excited he made me, the more I sucked on his prick.

Then I felt his body tighten. A fine tremor shot through it, as he continued
to slam up into my mouth.

My own juices were cascading heavily out of my cunt, and every time the
cardinal's tongue moved down to my honeyed hole, he drove it into the
quivering entrance to my tunnel of lust, and slurped up the juices which
gushed out, coating his tongue.

Something seemed to happen to his balls, as I squeezed them and kneaded
them together. I wasn't quite sure what the sensation was in my sweating
palm, but then his cock lurched, and the throbbing became more intense.
This, I knew, was the signal that he was going to spit forth the gobbets of
slimy liquid which I liked so much.

His cock head seemed to explode with a frothing spray of warm, salty,
musky liquid.

It poured down my throat, and I kept gulping furiously, trying to swallow
every last bit of it. I moved up and down on his cock more and more
swiftly. By now, my distended jaws and mouth were aching from the strain
of holding his cock in, and I was anxious to end the exercise, although I was
finding it very pleasurable.

I would not be so hesitant to try it again.

Just as he shot the last of his juices into my mouth, his tongue flicking
against my hardened, inflamed love button, triggered my own orgasm. I
suppose my climax was delayed because I was paying so much attention to
pleasing him, and sucking on his prick, which was a new exercise for me.

I felt his tongue circling my love button, and I felt as if sparks of flame
were shooting through me.

I moaned, my lips still clamped on the cardinal's dwindling prick, and my
hips went out of control, restrained only by the cardinal's hands on my
buttocks as he slurped up and down over my bloated, throbbing pussy meat
with increasing strength.

I felt the spasms in the depth of my belly, and I slammed my soft, sodden
flesh against his mouth and chin faster and wilder.

My eyes rolled back in my head, and bright lights exploded behind my
eyelids. The waves of convulsive bliss shot through me, one after the other.

My orgasm was violent and prolonged, and until the last sweet spasm faded
away, I held his prick in my mouth, while he licked me.

Finally, the two of us collapsed exhausted with our pleasurable sexual
labors. I pulled his prick out of my mouth and licked it clean, and then lay,
with my cheek resting on his strong thigh for a moment.

I could feel his impassioned breathing against my still tingling pussy meat,
as he recuperated from his own orgasm.

"I liked that," I said, simply.
He laughed, his body jerking convulsively with his merriment.

"Yes," he said. "You turn your reading to good account, my pretty mistress,"
he added, slapping my ass cheeks gently. "You deserve a present for that!
What would you like?"

"My soul," I-answered, taking the bull by the horns.

I could feel his belly muscles contracting, and I knew his head had shot up
off the pillow. I raised my head slowly, and turned to look at him.
He had a shocked look on his face, mixed with a puzzled expression in his
eyes. There was even something like--what? Perhaps it was fear which I
saw etched around the cruel lines of his mouth.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice low, rumbling up from his chest. I
sat up and looked at him.

In bare outline, I told him the story of the Inquisition at which I was
excommunicated.

"So, he raped you, did he, our very good Brother Rudolph? He was
assigned to the task because he was so meek and humble, and so
incorruptible. Hah!"

I gasped when the cardinal spat out his last sarcastic retort.

He sat up, and looked at me, his eyes almost wild. There was something
close to insanity in his eyes, as he caressed one of my breasts.

"Do not worry, my pet, I shall get you back into the church, and I," he said,
leering at me, "shall hear your confession!"

Chuckling, he pulled me back down on top of his body, and we fucked
again, and again that night!

It was as if he were some kind of satyr who couldn't get enough of my body.
When he left in the morning, my pussy was sore from being battered by his
indefatigable cock.

Once again, at the door of my room, he turned to reassure me.
"Don't worry. I shall have you back in the church in a few weeks."
He laughed when he said it, and it was a maniacal laugh.

I shuddered with fear, and sought Abbess Patrice's counsel early after
breakfast.
"But I don't understand your fear, my darling," she said. "After all, he
promised, and whatever else you may say about the man, he does keep his
promises."

"But-but, he seemed so-so insane!" I cried. "As if he were a madman."

"Hmmm," Abbess Patrice murmured. "He may be going insane. I have
heard it said of him that he says and does strange things sometimes. I have
also heard it said that his mother was insane, and had to be put away. He
may have inherited it. He does have a brother somewhere, but no one
knows anything about him except that the same rumor holds true for him.
He's older, and was supposed to inherit his father's estate, which is why the
cardinal was forced to take orders... "

"Forced!" I exclaimed. "You mean, the way you were forced to take vows
and immure yourself in the convent?"

"Yes, my dear. Older sons are privileged, and if parents have many children,
the younger ones are left to find other ways to make their way in the world.
The second-oldest son usually enters the priesthood if there isn't enough
money to share an estate. If the father wants to keep his lands intact, he
leaves everything to the older son, and lets the younger sons and daughters
be at the mercy of the older son."

"Oh, my God!" I gasped, leaning back. "No wonder there are so many bad
priests."

"I am more interested in what he had to say about our good Brother
Rudolph," Abbess Patrice gasped, sliding closer to me on the couch. "And |
am sure there are many sisters within these walls who would also love to
hear. You never mentioned the name of the priest who raped you!"

"He said only what I reported," I replied. "He said 'Our good Brother
Rudolph,’ as sarcastically as you have just said it.

"True. Brother Rudolph was like a scourge in this duty. He constantly
harangued the clergy for their impurity, and it was said he had never had an
impure thought, much less taken a woman."
Abbess Patrice laughed, throwing her head back and abandoning herself to
the hilarity which swept through her.

When her merriment had subsided somewhat, she looked at me.

"He came here often, exhorting us to give up our wealth, and our evil ways,
and go back to God."

"But if he were that intolerant, how could they have made him a member of
the Inquisition."

"Once again," Abbess Patrice said, gravely, "his evil, which was hidden,
was mixed with singular good. He was a superb exegesis of the Bible, and
he knows his canonical and theological law extremely well--better than
most of the cardinals. For this he has always been respected, and when our
good, dying pope decided to get rid of him, he decided that Brother
Rudolph would be ideal because he was so coldly intellectual, he would
never be swayed by human emotion."

"But why do you call him brother?" I asked.

"He went through the seminary and took minor orders, but when it came
time to take his final vows, he balked. He claimed he was sinful and
unworthy to hold the transubstantiated blood and body of Christ, and he
begged to be allowed to serve as a religious brother, instead of as a priest."

"Such hypocrisy!" I gasped.

"Yes, so it now seems, and yet he was much admired for his decision. It
meant that he had cut himself off from any advancement in the church, or
any position of power.

"Again, we thought that it was a token of sincerity, of genuine humility.
There was nothing else for him in life, so we took it for disinterested love of
his profession. Instead, our good Brother Rudolph can have his cake and eat
it, too!"
Once more, Abbess Patrice burst into loud, unbridled laughter. Finally, she
wiped her eyes from which tears were streaming, and looked at me.

"Forgive me for my unseemly merriment. I think the years make me
somewhat cynical."

I embraced my good friend, feeling every ounce of compassion I could.
I did not see the cardinal for several weeks.

He had a hectic flush on his face when he appeared in the parlor of the
convent to meet me. It was early afternoon. The fall breezes were beginning
to stir, breaking up the miasma of heat which clutched at Rome during the
summer months, virtually turning it into a sewer.

Disease was rife, and we did not go to the city at all during the summer
months, but stayed within the confines of our convent walls, letting the
peddlers come to us.

Our garden provided many of our comestibles and fruits, not to mention the
flowers which filled the convent with fragrance year-round.

It was promising to be a cold winter. The farmers were saying it, and so
were those who made their living in the woods. The natural signs indicated
a long frost and much snow.

Already the tops of the mountains, visible from our flat roof where we
would assemble often to catch the breezes late in the day, were tipped with
white.

"My lady," he said, bowing to me formally. I interrupted him.
"Please do not use that term for me. I am not worthy of it."

"Fie! Fie!" he exclaimed, holding up his hand. It trembled violently. "Listen
to me," he hissed, going to the door and locking it. "I shall make you a
queen. You shall be the most powerful woman in Rome."
I trembled with fear, not for myself, but for him and the wild claims which
he was making. He approached me and took my hand.

"You asked me for something, that I feel-I know confidently--I can deliver
to you myself, in person."

"What's that?" I gasped, feeling my fear grow.

"The pope is dead. He died in horrible agony, not two hours ago. I have
come to bring-you this information personally."

As if the city of Rome had ears to hear his announcement, I suddenly heard
all the bells tolling mournfully, first one golden-throated bell, and then
others, until the sound boomed ominously upon my ears.

I stood up, feeling like a leaf in a powerful wind, helpless to do anything
but resign myself.

The cardinal stood up and came behind me, placing feverish lips on my
neck.

"I cannot stay. There is much to do. The pope must be buried solemnly, and
then the college of cardinals shall meet to elect a new pope. That shall be I!
I, Cardinal Cibbola! I shall be the next pope!"

"How-how do you know this?"

"It was all arranged beforehand, my dear," he said, patting my shoulder. He

started to pace up and down in the parlor, his eyes wild, starting out of his
head.

"Yes," he said, after feverishly pacing back and forth. "I shall personally

revoke the edict of excommunication on you. It shall be my first official act
of office."

"But-but how do you know you will be pope?" I asked again, thoroughly
confused, my thoughts struggling with each other.

He stopped dead in his tracks, and a sly smile cracked his face in two.
"Because, as I said, it was all arranged beforehand, and I-I myself--killed
the pope, and watched him die!"

My breath caught in my throat, as I heard his horrendous confession. I
shook my head, my mouth going dry with more than fear-with anguish for
this demented man.

Again my heart was twisted with compassion, and a helplessness, a misery
at having been involved in this sordidness.

"Farewell, my dear," he said, coming up to me and kissing my hand. "When
next we meet, I shall be the new pontiff. I think I shall take the name
Benedict. Does that please you?"

"Yes," I said, afraid to say any more.

"Good. I shall then reciprocate your loving-kindness to me by restoring you
to the communion of saints."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and his eyes rolled upward. I don't know
what he looked like, but a sick feeling of merriment filled me. I wanted to
laugh.

I turned my back on him.

"God go with you," I said, weakly.

"Thank you. Farewell, until after the white smoke drifts from the chimneys
of the Vatican."

That, I already knew, signaled the election of a new pope. I heard the door
click behind me, and I fell in a dead faint.


CHAPTER EIGHT

When I was finally revived, I sought private audience with Abbess Patrice.
I told her what the cardinal had said.
"Oh, my dear, sweet, bleeding Christ!" she gasped. She was obviously as
shocked and horrified as I was. Then she leaned forward, having bitten her
forefinger until there was a deep dent in her soft white flesh.

"You must never, ever repeat any of what you have told me--to anyone! It
could cost you your life!"

I started to weep.

"I don't care about my life. If I can get back to the sacraments, I would be
very happy to wall myself in somewhere, and spend the rest of my life
praying for my sins and the sins of the world!" I cried.

"No," Abbess Patrice said, holding me tightly until the tears subsided. "You
are much too healthy and hearty for that. Once the floodgates of passion are
unloosed, there is nothing to do but marry or bum."

I sighed and rose from the chair where I had been sitting beside the lovely
woman. | looked out the window, biting my lower lip reflectively.

"I feel as if I should leave here." I said finally, turning to her. "You have
been so kind and generous, and I have nothing to offer in return."

"Oh, my dear," the abbess said, rising and taking my hands. "I know you
must be suffering terribly. Perhaps my way was the wrong one, but please,
please be patient. To get so far and then have nothing! Perhaps the cardinal
will be the next pope and then you will be. freed from the horrible and
unjust judgment that has been passed on you."

I sighed and nodded.

"Yes, perhaps you're right, but then what kind of life will there be for me?
He has promised I shall be his mistress, his queen! What kind of example is
that to give the Christian world? A public harlot--and of a pope!"

"Yes, you are right, and far better than I for thinking so!" the abbess said,
sitting down heavily in her chair.
"I did not mean it as a judgment on you. You are good and kind and I pray
for you every day of my life," I said, going to her, and kneeling in front of
her.

"I understand you, my dear," she said, stroking my hair. "I know you do not
judge me, nor is there need. I judge myself every day of my life."

"When will the cardinals be locked into the Vatican?" I asked.

"As soon as the pope is buried, and all arrangements are made. Probably
next week."

"I want to see the Cardinal Beauregard, the one who is considered to be so
good. Can you find a way for me to see him?"

"Why, he lives on the Via Venetto, in a simple home for priests!" the
Abbess cried. "He will see anyone who visits him with honest intentions,
but he doesn't... "

"I know!" I cried, exasperated. "He doesn't have the ear of the pope. But if
he be as good and saintly as people say, then he has the ear of God, and I
need his advice!"

The Abbess looked at me for a moment, with something akin to surprise,
and then she laughed, warmly and sweetly.

"Don't ever say you have nothing to offer," she said, rising and embracing
me. "Because all the cynical knowledge of the world which we here possess
doesn't equal the sane common sense of your very good heart, and your
untwisted mind. Go to the cardinal today, and beg his mercy and aid. And if
you need my assistance, please, please let me know. I shall send Aaron with
you for protection."

The simple home for priests was every bit as elegant, if less pretentious
than all the other buildings in Rome which I had been in, or walked past. |
was ushered immediately into a small, marble-floored room with intricate
designs inlaid in it. The ceilings were high, and the afternoon sun was
paling now.
While I waited, pacing back and forth over the marble floor, a young prelate
walked in and lit the tapers, bowed to me, and left.

My heart tripped over itself when I heard sharp, decisive footsteps in the
corridor outside, and then the door swung open vigorously, held by a strong
hand.

There was a moment's frozen shocked silence, as I stared, not at the good
Cardinal Beauregard, but at my lord, the count Maurice de Rainard. He was
equally surprised, and he stood there for a moment, his tall, elegant figure
outlined against the golden glow of sun still spilling through an arched,
diamond-paned window at his back.

Then there was surprise, and he bowed.
"My lady who dispatched Cardinal Cibbola's bravo! What do you here?"

"I am waiting for an audience with Cardinal Beauregard," I replied, feeling
my knees turn to rubber.

I heard other steps approaching, softer steps, and then, beside the count,
stood a tall, hearty-looking man with an air of gentle decision about him.

His hair was thick and dark, liberally sprinkled with white, and his figure
was that of a hard-working peasant, thick, but solid, his hand, as he clapped
the count warmly on his shoulder in greeting, square, and strong-looking--
not at all the hand of any priest I had ever known. He looked as if he could
have wrestled with a bull.

"Well, Maurice! How are you? When did you get back?"

"Just a few hours ago. I had thought to find you in your study, but instead I
find... "

"The lady Angelica deVraie?"

I blushed and curtseyed.
"Charming! She can still in this corrupt, cynical city, find a blush to tint her
white cheeks," the count mocked.

"Maurice! You are too free with your mockery!" the good cardinal said,
entering the room, and taking my hand.

I liked him. I liked him so much that I felt free to let my pent-up tears of a
year and a half flow down my still-flushed cheeks.

"What may I do for you, my lady?" he asked, his voice hearty, and kind,
and like a breath of fresh air. He turned swiftly.

"Maurice, go to the kitchen, and have some wine! I shall be with you
shortly!" He turned back to me, as the count backed out of the room, but not
before a parting quip.

"Beware of gentlewomen who kill Cardinal Cibbola's favorite bravo,
father."

The priest looked at me, frowning.
"Was that meant as a remark about you?" he asked.

Still weeping, and trembling now, I allowed the good man to lead me to a
chair, where I sat.

He went to a long, priceless antique table where there was wine, and poured
some for me, which I drank gratefully.

"I need your help," I said. I hesitated, biting my lower lip. I could I pour
forth such a horrible story to this kindly, good, unpretentious man?

As if he had read my thoughts, he leaned forward in his chair and took my
hand. His eyes were dark and clear and warm.

"My daughter, do not hesitate to tell me what is on your mind. I have been a
priest for thirty-five years, and have heard confessions every day of my life.
There is nothing you need hold back, if you wish me to help you."
I looked at him, the peasant's strong form, the simple black soutane, the
only mark of his high status, the bright red buttons running down the front
and the bright red sash of his office.

I took a deep breath and plunged in.

"First, I would appreciate it if you would not call me 'my lady,’ since am a
common peasant wench from Medoc. My name is Angelica Lessier. My
father was a wine grower... " I told my story, sparing absolutely no details,
including my life at the Convent of the Holy Angels. My story was
interrupted several times--twice by the hearty laughter of the priest at some
of my ruses, once when he slammed his hand on the desk violently,
muttering "Brother Rudolph! I thought so!" when I got to that part of the
story, frowning thoughtfully other times, occasionally grunting.

I knew he was listening and feeling every single word I was saying. I
finished, including my last conference with Abbess Patrice, and then sat,
trembling, exhausted.

He got up and poured me some more wine. I looked at him pleadingly as he
handed it to me.

"Forgive me for troubling you with my sinful story, father, but-but, all I
want to do is have the excommunication lifted so that I may confess my
sins and receive the sacraments and live a good life."

"That is much easier to do than your cynical friends have led you to
believe," he said gravely. He pointed one strong finger at me, and there was
a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"You are a clever woman who has allowed others to pollute your reasoning.
You should have followed your own instinct."

"I know. I just thought that others were so much more worldly-wise and
finer than I, and," I said, pausing for a moment to sum up what I had really
learned, "even in the worst of people, there seems to be such good, so much
talent. And in the best of people, some malice," I added, ruefully.
Once again the cardinal laughed heartily!
"How can the ban be lifted?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning, we shall go to the consistory, where you will be
questioned about the tenets of your faith. The ban will be examined, if there
is any record! I told His Holiness that Brother Rudolph was much too
fanatical to be a good officer of the Inquisition. And now... "

"I think he's crazy, insane," I said, impulsively. "Like Cardinal Cibbola."
He looked at me gravely for a moment.

"Yes," he said. "Men of imbalanced minds. Go in peace, my daughter," he
said, rising from his chair. "Come here tomorrow at ten in the morning, and
I shall accompany you to the consistory. Oh, and heed what the Abbess has
advised about Cardinal Cibbola. She is very right. The knowledge we
possess is dangerous, but I'm afraid, it's been a foregone conclusion among
some of the cardinals for some time. All that was wanting was the proof,
which you have supplied. You have done us a great service."

I felt light as air, and actually happy, as I made my way down the marble
steps of the priests’ residence, and to my horse. Old Aaron helped me to
mount the horse, and we went back to the convent.

I was puzzled by the strange look which the Abbess Patrice gave me as she
greeted me at the door.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Come with me," she said, leading me to her small, but elegant study in the
back of the convent.

I walked in, holding my cloak over my arm, and waited for her to speak.

"The cardinal is here. He is waiting for you in your room," she said, finally,
after a lengthy pause.
"Oh, no!" I gasped, sitting suddenly in the nearest chair, thoroughly
distressed.

"Listen to me carefully, my girl. I think you are correct about him. There is
something demented about him. Go about your business with him as if
nothing were wrong. I may have given you false advice before, but mark
my words. What I say now is absolutely correct--to save your life, and
perhaps the College of Cardinals from making a dreadful mistake."

"I don't think they will," T said, rising, and conceding her first point--to
behave as ingratiatingly as I could to the cardinal.

"What do you mean?"

"We shall discuss it later. I assure you, the news is heartening--very
heartening. Tomorrow I go to the consistory with the cardinal Beauregard."

"Why the consistory?" she asked me, looking puzzled.

"Apparently, my dear, dear, Abbess," I said, smiling at her, "neither of us
knows enough about the way canonical law works. The cardinal says that
the ban of excommunication is lifted quite easily."

The abbess gasped, and hugged me joyously.
"Is this true?"

"I believe the cardinal!" I said, smiling at her. "He is a good man, and one
of sound sense. He looks like a peasant."

"Why, I believe he was one," the abbess said, thoughtfully. "Go," she said,
after hugging me again. "Be careful!"

On the way up the stairs, I wondered at the fate of myself and the Abbess if
the demented cardinal should decide to dispatch me for the knowledge he
gave me.

After all, the Abbess had entertained this viper at her bosom for a long, long
time, had welcomed this evil into her abode.
The smile wasn't too difficult. All I had to remember was the kindly face of
the intense Cardinal Beauregard, and feel again the weight lifted from my
shoulders.

And all I had to do was remember again the dashing figure of the rather
raffish Count Maurice de Rainard, and my pussy started to cream.

He was pacing up and down my small room like a caged lion. I rushed to
him, dropping my cloak hastily over the back of a chair.

"Forgive me for not being here when you arrived!" I gasped.

"Where did you go?" he asked, grunting at the impact of my body against
his. I could feel, through the fabric of my dress, his bulging manhood, and I
closed my eyes, conjuring up the rakish figure and the teasing voice of the
count.

"Abbess Patrice gave me permission to go to the center of the city to... "

"Yes, I know," he said, closing my lips with a kiss. He did me a favor. The
abbess, I discovered later, was so distraught, that she forgot to tell me the lie
she had told the cardinal, which was that I was shopping at an apothecary's
for medicine for one of the nuns who was ailing.

I felt his tongue slithering into my mouth, the tip of it teasing the roof. I
sucked on it, moaning against his mouth and rubbing my love mound
against his throbbing manhood.

He pulled me over to the bed, and threw me onto it.

"We are to be installed in the Vatican in three days. I have much to do and
will not be able to come to you again, until I have been elected pope," he
said.

"I shall miss you and pray for you," I replied, caressing his cheeks. My
pleasant, gentle manner seemed to be soothing some of his agitation, and |
let him unlace my bodice, and then caressed his hair and crooned to him as
he sucked on my breasts, first one and then the other.
Finally, he stood up, panting with the passion which suffused him, and
removed his clothing, while I followed suit.

Soon, I was lying naked on the bed, and squirming. I closed my eyes as |
felt the cardinal's body pressing against mine, felt his cock throbbing
between our pressed-together bellies.

He grunted, as he kissed my eyes, and my nose, and my mouth, greedily
thrusting his tongue into my hot oral cavity, causing me to shake with a
growing passion.

His hairy loins rubbed against my sex flesh, and I felt my inner pink lips
swelling outward, seeking more of the stimulation from his hairy loins.

My juices boiled in my veins, and I moaned softly as the cardinal caressed
me. I ran my hands down over his back, and then cupped his lean, muscular
ass cheeks, as he got up on his knees, and pressed his cock head against my
honeyed hole.

I cried out with lascivious pleasure, as his cock lunged inward, until it was
buried to the hilt in my creaming pussy.

It was as if my relief lent wings to my passion--or perhaps it was the vivid
impact which the sight of the count had on me. I was wilder than I had ever
been.

My breasts, swollen and throbbing, pressed flat against the cardinal's
sweating, throbbing chests, seemed to swell even more. My very flesh
seemed to sing a happy song.

I had forgotten what it felt to be so almost carefree. I was afraid of nothing,
not even the cardinal's insanity.

I wrapped my long, well shaped legs around his waist, as he started to lunge
into me, fucking me like a wild animal, his teeth nipping at my neck.

I caressed his back, and bucked my hips up against his down-thrusting loins
as he plunged his spear into my creaming, chaotic depths again and again.
He fucked me wildly, his massive, throbbing spear wreaking a hot havoc in
the depths of my womanhood.

I thought perversely, that this might be one of the last times I could indulge
my carnal pleasures, and I might as well enjoy it! I knew I was wrong but I
didn't care. My troubles were almost over, and I could accept anything!

The cardinal's prick plowed through the hot wet meadow of my lust, leaving
behind hot furrows of pleasure which radiated throughout my body, until
my white, smooth flesh was covered with goose bumps, and was gleaming
with sweat.

The cardinal's body was also moist with sex sweat, which poured onto me
until our skin was fused together in the heated moisture of our passion.

I moaned against his mouth, as he covered it again with a greedy kiss. His
cock seemed to drive even deeper into my pussy, his cock head butting
against the fleshy roof of my cave of lust.

I felt my juices flowing heavily, trickling out of my stuffed pussy, trickling
down my ass crack, and pooling on the sheets beneath my humping,
quivering ass cheeks.

His hairy loins rapidly became wet and matted with the thick honey pouring
from my pussy. His heavy, hairy balls slapped noisily, wetly against my
quivering ass cheeks, as he lunged into me, seeming to go deeper and
deeper each time he plunged inward.

I thought his cock was traveling through my belly and coming out through
my passion-constricted throat, as I abandoned myself totally to the wanton
pleasure which filled me.

He grunted, and then I felt his cock swelling in my pussy. It seemed to get
hotter, and harder, as his thick shaft massaged the itching walls of my
womanhood.

I could feel the walls of my hot wet tunnel beginning to quiver, to close in
around his massive spear, as he cleaved through my sex flesh with
increasing fury.

Then he grunted, and I felt his cock head spitting its pellets of creamy white
Juice into me.

The hot wet kiss of his manly juices spurred my own orgasm to greater
heights. The convulsions were powerful, and my pussy walls clamped
rhythmically, strongly, around the cardinals cock as he pumped it in and out
of me, leaving behind his load of liquid lust.

My orgasm faded slowly, and IT was strangely aroused, eager for more,
when his body finally collapsed on top of mine.

I caressed his ass cheeks with the soles of my feet, and squeezed my pussy
walls around his prick, trying to arouse him.

But when he had recovered from his orgasm, he pulled out of me, washed
himself, and dressed.

"Remember," he said, as he was leaving, "I am going to make you a queen,
an empress! You shall be the mistress of a pope!"

"God bless you," I said, smiling warmly. The smile faded the instant he
closed the door.

I finally blew out the candle and fell asleep, exhausted. I awoke early the
next morning, and dressed for my appointment with the cardinal and the
consistory.

The examination was long and harrowing. I told the truth again and again,
to several priests who questioned me in different ways about the same
points repeatedly, until my head was swimming. I bore up under it. If it
hadn't been for my own unbridled tongue, and my impulsiveness, it
wouldn't have happened to me in the first place.

They conferred for a while, talking in Latin. I couldn't make out everything
they said, but enough to know that they were reasonably discussing the
merits of my case.
They finally turned to me and the cardinal, who had stood by me for the
long ordeal.

"It is the considered opinion of this court that you are telling the truth.
However, it is an opinion. We shall have to send to Medoc and recall the
court of the Inquisition there, and also get witnesses wherever possible to
verify your story.

"In the meantime, Cardinal Beauregard, we find it urgent to remove her
from the Convent of the Holy Angels, were she is being set a very bad
example, for all the generous kind-heartedness of the much-misled ladies,
which she has attested to. Do you have any suggestions?"

I was saddened, but also rather relieved to be leaving the convent. Much as
I cared for the women, I didn't want to be placed in a position of temptation
and sin again.

"The Convent of the Holy Redeemer, whose nuns service our humble abode
on the Via Veneto, and the church, would probably be happy to take her
until her life is settled," the cardinal said. "I shall apply to them
immediately."

I went back to the priests' house with the cardinal, who sent a messenger to
bring the headmistress of the convent into his presence.

A brief interview with her ascertained the matter. I was to bid farewell to
my kindly, if benighted hostesses at the Convent of the Holy Angels, which
I had learned, had a reputation for corruption and luxury, and to take up my
abode at the Convent of the Holy Redeemer.

I went back to the convent which had been my home for so long, and bid a
tearful, and very grateful farewell to the Abbess Patrice, and the other
sisters with whom I had become so friendly over the year, and then I was
taken to the convent situated behind the large priests’ house.

I was grateful that the abbess had wished me well, had not taken my
transfer at all amiss.
The convent I now resided in was every bit as elegant and elaborate as other
buildings in Rome, but the regimen was much more regular and disciplined.

I rose at dawn, in a comfortable, but spare room, which was also cold, to
say matins with the nuns. Then I was assigned tasks.

Since I had already been trained to help in a large household, being
especially skilled in the kitchen, and with shopping, I was assigned to help
an old nun who had been the cook for years.

I was happy. I sang about my work, whether it was scrubbing floors, or
cooking the meals, or serving them.

In my simple, dark garb, I felt as if the whole world were at my feet. After a
while, my happy singing ways caused many of these good and holy nuns to
call me "The Lark."

I waited patiently for the outcome of my trial. I knew it had to have a happy
ending.


CHAPTER NINE

"Is this the posture of a lady?"

I had been startled out of my reverie. I was humming a new hymn I had
learned in chapel, and scrubbing the large main hall floor of the priests’
residence, when a tall shadow fell across me, and in front of me.

I was used to people passing, but not this early in the morning. I liked to get
the floor washed and waxed before the daily traffic crossed the ornate
marble.

The cardinals had been locked into the Vatican, and for two weeks now
there had been only black smoke coming from their chimneys.

I looked up and saw the handsome, troubled face of the count. I was down
on my hands and knees and I had hiked my skirt up so as not to soil it. I
paused and noticed that the arrogance I had once seen in his expression had
returned.
"I am not a lady!" I retorted, angry with him for being aggrieved at my
happy condition. "I am a peasant girl from Medoc!"

"Pha! What stories are you telling now?" he demanded, lowering over me.

"A true story, and one you would do well to consider," I replied hotly, rising
to my feet to counter his threatening gesture.

"I have no time to consider chits like you who masquerade as ladies and
then perform the menial chores of peasants!"

"I am better situated than most ladies, my lord," I replied, hotly. "I have
honest work to my hands, and employers I can love and respect, and that is
more than you can say for the bought-and-sold daughters of your so-called
honorable houses."

"Angelica! My Lark, where are you?"

I heard the cracked old voice of Sister Maria, coming toward me from the
kitchen end of the mansion. She approached me with her shuffling old step,
holding a list in her hand.

The count was still gaping with shock at my last remark, ramrod-stiff, his
shoulders square and tight.

"Mother Renata would like you to go to the market and purchase what she
has written here," the darling little old nun said, squinting up at me. I was
one of the few women in the convent who could read!

"Does a peasant woman read?" the count snarled.

Sister Maria turned and saw the count, with whom she was obviously
familiar. She smiled, and patted me on my arm.

"This one does, and in Italian and Latin as well as French. And she does
fine sewing, and sings like a lark," the old woman said, nodding her head,
and smacking her toothless gums together with pleasure at the thought.
I squeezed her gnarled old hand and unhooked the hem of my gown, taking
the small purse with money which Sister Maria handed to me.

"I shall go get my cloak. Can Sister Felicia finish this floor? There isn't
much left to do."

"I shall call her. I'm quite sure she will."

Sister Maria shuffled off, and I went to get my cloak, to go to the
marketplace. In the marketplace, many, many people were gathered. They
were all waiting for the next puff of smoke from the chimneys of the
Vatican. The city was crowded with nobility of every kind, who had come
for the coronation.

I made my purchases, and turned to walk back to the convent, when I heard
a murmur, that rushed through the crowd like wind, and then a loud
cheering.

I looked up. There was white smoke coming from the chimney!

With my heart in my mouth, I walked toward the balcony high up in the
facade of the Vatican, where the new pope would soon appear, dressed in
white. I strained my eyes, forgetful of the passage of time.

About half an hour after the white smoke appeared, a tall, corpulent man
stood on the balcony, and his name was announced.

I almost fainted with joy!
It was not Cardinal Cibbolal!

I rushed back to the convent, almost hysterical with joy, to make the
announcement to the excited nuns.

"We shall serve lamb for supper. Cardinal Merolla and Cardinal Bearegard
will be back," Sister Renata said, after I had given her the change from the
purchases. She looked at it and shook her head.
"I declare child! Are you sure you are not bargaining so severely with the
vendors that you're cheating them? You always bring back more change
than anyone else!"

I smiled.

"Simple peasant logic. I know the price of things," I said. "At least," I added
as an afterthought," the price of things that are grown in the ground or
which blossom from trees or come from vines."

I left with the laughter of Mother Renata ringing in my ears to finish my
chores.

Dinner that night was a celebration. I served the meal, happy to be back in
the presence of the good Cardinal Beauregard and his friend whom I had
only recently met, Cardinal Merolla, also a good, unpretentious man.

The following weeks we scurried around preparing for the new pope's
coronation. There were many strangers of great importance walking the
halls of the priests’ residence.

The only thorn in my side, if it could be called a thorn, was the arrogant
count de Rainard, who insisted on going out of his way to tease me at every
turn. I laughed at him, for the most part, but I was puzzled by his animosity.
I didn't know what it was that I had done to offend him.

One afternoon, I served wine in Cardinal Beauregard's study. He was with a
very distinguished, richly-dressed older man, who, for some strange reason,
appeared to be familiar to me.

When Cardinal Beauregard introduced me, I understood. It was Raoul
Frederick de Rainard, Baron of Esterhazy, Marquis of Rheims and
Villefranca, one of the Electors of the Holy Roman Empire. He was also a
Margrave and had a string of other titles, which I just didn't get.

As I was pouring wine for the cardinal and the baron, the baron's son
walked in. I poured wine for him which he took without a word of thanks,
turning his back on me and sitting down brusquely. His father frowned, but
said nothing.

"Methinks the count has the manners of a peasant!" I quipped, going
quickly to the door.

"Perhaps the count can afford laxity, especially where another peasant is
concerned!"

"Maurice!"
"My son!"
The two men, distressed, had spoken at once.

"You could have more respect!" he cried, standing up, his eyes blazing. |
rather loved him when he was angry like that.

"I respect noblesse oblige, Your Excellency," I said, stressing the title rather
sarcastically and giving him a mock curtsey. "It is one thing for an honest
peasant to do honest work which gives you comfort; it is quite another for a
silly coxcomb with bad manners to demand respect for a position he was
born into and hasn't yet earned!"

I laughed, and swung out the door before I further angered him. It was
shortly after that, while I was washing the large window directly opposite to
Cardinal Beauregard's study, when the count, in high dudgeon, slammed out
of the cardinal's study, and out the door.

I opened the large window to wash the outside panes, and saw him striding
around the corner toward the square. Once again, my impulse was stronger
than my reason. I up-ended the warm sudsy water out the window.

I heard him bellow with enraged surprise and look up, dripping. I laughed at
his sputtering, silly appearance.

At that moment, the door to the study opened. I turned, and blushed when I
saw the baron and the cardinal standing there, looking rather puzzled at my
abashed behavior.
The sudden appearance of the count, dripping wet, absolutely inarticulate
with rage, explained the matter to the two men.

The baron, much to my surprise, laughed.
"It looks like you have received a dousing, my son!"
"On what grounds?" he bellowed, staring at me, livid with rage.

"My Lord needed cooling off, I thought," I replied gaily. I left quickly to fill
my pail again and finish my job.

And so it went for two weeks. The coronation of the pope was set for the
end of the third week. The city had never been so full nor so festive!
Banners hung from everywhere. Fine ladies in rich apparel, sauntered
through the squares, laughing, flirting, and the men were just as beautiful.

I felt a sweet nostalgia for the hopes I used to have, knowing now that
getting a husband would be well-nigh impossible. A messenger had arrived
from Medoc confirming the departure of the members of the court of the
Inquisition, to arrive in Rome.

They arrived during the third week, and to make a happy story a short one,
the ban of excommunication was lifted from me completely.

My thorniest problem, was what to do with my life. I spoke earnestly to
Mother Renata about becoming a member of her community, but when she
discussed it with Cardinal Beauregard, he informed me that although he
thought I would adjust well, and be an asset, that I was more fit to be a wife
and mother, than a nun. This distressed me.

"Is it because I'm not worthy?" I asked him.

"My daughter," he said, patting my hand. "It is not a matter of worth. It is a
matter of the personality and gifts God has given you. Now, tell me truly;
what in your heart of hearts pleases you the most when you think of living
your life?"

I sighed.
"Having a home of my own, but... "

"Have patience!" the cardinal said, raising his hand. "God will provide in
His own good time. Just rest among us and be merry, and continue to
provide the joy and laughter which our sisters so dearly love in you."

On the event of the coronation, I was summoned into the cardinal's study.
Seated with him, was the count and the baron. I was asked to sit down, and
I looked anxiously from son to father to my guardian and helper.

Finally, the cardinal cleared his throat, and the sullen frown on the count's
face deepened.

"I have a match to propose for you," the cardinal said. He looked at the
moment like a good, shrewd peasant looks when lie's striking a bargain. I
leaned forward, surprised.

"Who?" I asked. I knew very few people in Rome. Perhaps they were
referring to someone from my village, or a neighboring village.

"The count de Rainard!"

"What?" I shrieked. I stared at him for a moment, while he returned the
gaze, glowering with anger.

"N-no, I think not," I said, softly, feeling my heart plummet to my feet.

"Why not?" the count demanded, rising abruptly from his chair. "I offer you
my name, and my fortune. You have no dower, and forgive me, madame,
but you are no maid!"

"And are you chaste?" I asked him coolly.
The count's face turned scarlet.

"I do not like having you throw my sins in my face, when you will not
acknowledge your own," I said. "Do you think, since you have been
unchaste yourself, that you deserve a maid?"
"Do you deserve my name and my titles, the present ones and the ones I
will have, and my fortune?"

"I will not be bought, and I will not marry a man I can't love nor respect," |
said, rising, shaking, from my seat. I looked at the cardinal and at the baron.
They were contemplating the both of us gravely, but they made no move to
intercede.

The count paced to the window, and stared out of it, his hands locked
behind his back.

"What cannot you respect about me?"
"Your arrogance. [ will not live with it."
"And you are wild and headstrong."
"Yes, I am."

The cardinal cleared his throat.

"My children, can you not acknowledge that there is an affinity between
you?"

I know my jaw gaped. The count, attracted to me?
I was embarrassed and did not answer, and the count's jaw muscles rippled.

"The state of matrimony, like the Garden of Eden, has thorns," the cardinal
continued. "The blessings of marriage, the love the husband and wife bear
each other, the consolation their companionship and the physical duties of
the marriage entail are a gift to help the partners along the road to Heaven.
What better way for two people to grow in grace and love, but to bear with
each other, admonish each other, and help each other?"

"And frankly, I think you two are ideally suited to curb the other!" the baron
said, chuckling.
I looked at the baron, and realized with a pleased shock, that it was he who
had suggested the arrangement! Like the cardinal, he was bluff, and hearty,
and honestly good, and I had liked him from the first. "I will marry him," I
said, blushing to the roots of my hair. The count said nothing, as he turned
to look at me, unsmiling. I cocked my head, puzzled.

"Well?" he asked.
"And you? Yes, or no?" I asked.
"I, my lady, have already consented!" the count said.

Shocked beyond belief, I put my hands to my gaping mouth, turned and fled
in total confusion, from the room.

As it turned out, I did have a dowry and a very handsome one, provided by
the Baron deVraie. Mother Renata had given me permission to visit with
Abbess Patrice, as long as I had an older companion with me, for I dearly
loved the woman and missed her sorely when I was deprived of her
company. Her brother had come to the coronation and remained to visit for
a few weeks.

When he heard of my impending marriage, through his sister, he came
forward as my patron, with the marriage portion. And so we were married,
simply but elegantly.

We traveled to Venice, to the castle of the Baron deVraie for several days,
before going to Maurice's father's castle on the border of Germany, and
there we spent our wedding night.

I was as nervous as a virgin! He had been grave and unsmiling all through
the ceremony, and the trip to the castle, and he had not warmed up all
through dinner. I knew that my apprehension, and his mood, whatever it
entailed, were only exaggerated by our sensitivity to each other. There was
everything unspoken between us.

When we had retired to our adjoining rooms for the night, I didn't wait for
him to come to me. I went to him.
There was a flash of some amusement when I knocked on the door and he
bid me to enter.

"What? Couldn't wait for me like a lady?"

"I'm not a lady--not alone with you. I'm your wife," I said. I could feel my
heart pounding like a trip-hammer as I walked up to him, and put my hand
on his arm.

He melted, laughed, and took me into his arms.

"Wench," he said, nuzzling my neck, "I've loved you from the first time I
saw you!" he said.

I sagged against him, feeling the juices of my desire flowing from my
womanhood. And this was no sinful desire. I curled my arms around his
neck, feeling his manhood throbbing, hard and strong against my love
mound.

He picked me up and carried him to his bed, pulling at the laces of my
gown as soon as he had laid me upon it.

Then he slipped my gown up over my head, and moaned as he caressed my
ripe breasts.

The soft inner flesh of my thighs was sticky with the fluid of my desire, and
I reached out to grasp his massive manhood, caressing the hard rod, feeling
the hot hardness beneath the soft sheath against my sweating palm.

I pulled off his robe. His body was magnificent, hard and trim, his belly flat.
I ran my hands over his chest, and belly, and then ran my fingers through
his thick, glossy black hair.

His mouth came down and covered mine, and I felt his tongue slithering
into my orifice. I sucked on it, moaning against his lips.

His body moved over mine, and I spread my legs, hungry to feel his cock in
my womanhood. My desire had reached such an intense pitch that it was
like pain, a sweet pain.
I gasped, and arched upward, as I felt his thick cock head pressed against
my pink, tiny hole. His thick rod plowed through me, spreading my pussy
walls wide.

My whole body seemed to pulsate with the powerful passion which
suffused me. I closed my eyes, and abandoned myself to my husband's
body, as he buried his fleshy sword to the hilt in my creaming cunt.

I felt his balls pressing against my quivering ass cheeks, the thick hairs
which covered his globes of flesh tickling the sensitive skin of my buttocks.

I squirmed against him. My passion-boated petals of pink sex flesh spread
out and were stimulated by his hairy loins.

He worked his arms under my trembling back and pressed me hard against
him. I felt my breasts flattening out against his chest. Against my right
breast, I felt his heart beating, and it was the dearest sensation in the world
to me. My nipples puckered as I rubbed them against his smooth skin.

He started to move in me, slowly at first, pulling his prick out and then
sliding it into my well-oiled hole of lust.

As he lunged inward, I bucked my hips upward, seeking to drive his prick
deeper and deeper into my wet and wanting womanhood.

I ran my hands over his back, and kneaded the firm hard globes of his
buttocks, savoring the way the muscles corded, and got hard, and then
relaxed, as he continued to lunge into me.

The fleshy friction of his hot, hard pole increased the heat in my creaming
cunt to a feverish pitch.

My juices flowed lavishly from my well-stuffed tunnel of love, as I
surrendered to Maurice's wonderful fucking.

He started to lunge into me with more urgency. I felt his cock swell, felt as
if the heat and moisture of our sexual congress had fused our flesh together.
I threw my legs up in the air, and wrapped them around his hard-humping
waist, as his cock pumped into me more and more furiously.

His body got hotter and his sweat poured down on me, the heat from his
quivering, passion-warm torso washing over me and adding to the wild
welter of passion which had taken possession of me.

My ears rang with the passionate blood boiling in my veins, and I started to
whimper, as I felt the delicious tension which preceded sexual release
gripping at my muscles.

I writhed wildly beneath his body, as he continued to lunge into me, his hot
hard prick creating a sweet chaos in my womb.

I felt my womb curling in on itself, felt my sex flesh crawling. The little
love button which was the source of so much pleasure, had become
inflamed, and scintillated with its own joyous mayhem, as Maurice thrust
into me possessively, powerfully.

And then I cried out as I felt the wild surging of my climax gripping my
body, causing me to convulse violently.

He groaned, and I felt his teeth biting gently into my neck, the slight sting
enhancing the sweet joy which coursed through me.

His cock started to spit its thick gobs of man juice into me. I felt the wet,
warm kiss of his slimy fluid washing against the quivering, convulsing
walls of my cunt, mixing hotly with the honey of my own passion, and
pouring out of me.

By now, his thickly-pelted loins were matted and wet with the juices of my
desire. It poured out of my well-stuffed hole and made a warm puddle on
the bed beneath my humping, quivering ass cheeks, as I squirmed and
bucked beneath his powerful body.

With a loud groan, Maurice emptied his balls into me, and then his body
subsided, relaxing on top of mine.
I lay beneath him, feeling his weight pressing me into the mattress, and
kissed him warmly, letting all the attraction I felt for him well up in me. I
knew I could love this man, and respect him.

We were both wild and headstrong, but we would learn, and we had our
love to keep us safe and warm from a cold, often cruel world.

I caressed his sweat-moist body, feeling the hammering of his heart subside
somewhat.

His cock was still lodged tightly in my creaming cunt, and he kissed my
face, my eyes, my ears, nibbling on my ear lobe, his warm moist breath
puffing against my face.

And then we made love again--and again, exhausting ourselves into a sweet
sleep.

Waking up in the morning, I rose from the pillow and looked at his
handsome face and smiled. He stirred, and turned in his sleep, and then his
eyes opened, blurred slightly with sleep.

He grinned, and pulled me hard on top of him. His cock throbbed hotly
between our pressed-together bellies, as he kissed me.

"Good morning, wife," he said.
I wept with joy, and used my mouth on his magnificent member.

I had always enjoyed making love with my mouth, and with my husband, I
enjoyed it even more.

I could feel his hands caressing my back and my hair, as I opened my
mouth and engulfed his prick in my hot oral cavity.

He gasped, and then moaned with pleasure as I drove my tongue into his
piss slit, sucking up the drop of man cream which glistened there.

Then I felt him tugging at me, and I understood immediately what he
wanted. I moved over his body, until I was lying flat on top of him, my love
mound near his mouth.

I could feel his warm, moist breath blowing on my sex flesh, felt him
caressing the backs of my thighs, as I started to move down on his prick,
determined to take all of it in my mouth.

After all, I had had considerable practice with the cardinal, and since I
loved my husband and aimed to please him, I saw no reason why I couldn't
be even better with him.

As I moved down, I teased the soft flesh which sheathed the hot hardness
beneath with my tongue. I had learned that the underside of a man's prick is
more sensitive, and I paid special attention to that.

Then I started to caress his balls.

I jumped when I felt his tongue riding up and down my passion-bloated
pink sex flesh. His hands moved to my ass cheeks, and he began to knead
them, as his tongue slid up and down over my cunt.

My juices started to gush heavily from my little love hole, and I felt the tip
of Maurice's tongue pressing into my quivering pussy, sucking up the juices
which were cascading from it.

I moved down on his cock, moaning. Maurice started to buck upward, until
I felt the tip of his prick pressing against my throat.

I started to swallow hard and felt his cock sliding into my throat, stretching
it. Before long, his pubic hairs tickling my nose and throat, as I took in all
of his prick.

If it had been humanly possible, I think I would have taken in his thick,
hairy balls, too!

I started to hump against his face as I felt my excitement building. My
whole body tingled as I started to rise and fall on Maurice's prick.

I moved downward as his hips thrust upward. As I pulled off his prick, until
only his cock head was embedded in my mouth, I inhaled deeply, enjoying
the pungent aroma of his aroused manhood.

The more excited he made me with his tongue, the more eagerly I moved up
and down on his prick, savoring his beautiful manhood.

I felt the upheaval in my womanhood, felt the heat flare into a wild
conflagration as Maurice's tongue moved with increasing wildness up and
down on my pink, passion-bloated petals of sex flesh.

I squirmed around on his mouth, as the sweet devastation shot through me,
turning my body into a whirling maelstrom of passion.

Just as my orgasm peaked, I felt his cock swelling in my mouth, and then
his juices started to pour into me lavishly.

I gulped noisily, swallowing all of his come cream. I kept pumping on his
prick, until he had slammed into my throat for the last time, his come slit
spurting its thick, creamy load into my mouth.

I licked his cock clean, after I had come down from my own passionate
heights, and then turned to look at him.

He had a broad grin on his face. He slapped my buttocks lightly, but hard
enough to sting, and then pulled me up to face him.

"Where did you learn how to do that?"
I smiled slyly.

"I will not tell you."

"But I'm your husband!"

"And I'm your wife. Will you tell me the names and ranks of all the women
with whom you've had intercourse?"

"No! "

"Well, then, neither shall I tell you about the gentlemen in my life."
He arched his eyebrows at me.
"But there will be no more gentlemen but me, ehh?"
"Only if there are no more ladies in your life," I said.

For a moment he looked as if he were going to get angry, and then he
laughed.

"It's a solemn covenant, then," he replied, holding me close to him.

THE END
