clenched teeth. He bit her lips and the teeth came apart enabling his tongue to invade her mouth.
His prick and loins were boiling. With each thrust it seemed as if matter were being drawn from his penis with a hot poultice. His loins were churned with chilling, twisting clasps which seemed to be tearing out his very guts.
“Oh, God… oh, wonderful!” he breathed- and then half-remembered that he shouldn't speak and fresh words merged into animal sounds of passion.
He leaned his body up from hers, pressing his knees into the leaves. Now he could exert more weight, more of a thrust from his loins. He slipped his hand down holding her buttocks, each oval of smooth flesh in his hands. At each stab he pulled her lower body hard against his loins, letting out a groan of pleasure.
Carlotta, her face wet with tears, could manage no more than a continuous whimper- the proud beauty was reduced to a sniveling, agonized toy. Her lips trembled, the bandage around her eyes was soaked from her weeping.
Cesare felt the end approaching in a delicious agony. He pushed his prick ruggedly in to its full length and pressed there, trying to push farther than was possible, while he wriggled his hips against her pelvis, brushing her pubic hair with his, flattening the fleshy rims of her vagina.
He reached to her breasts with his hands as he felt the scorching helter-skelter from his stomach to his genitals. He grasped them, twisted them so that she cried out afresh with pain. He pulled her nipples. His face was a mask of lost, bacchanalian sensuality. His hips jerked and jumped, screwed and squirmed as if of their own volition while his hands trounced her breasts and his eyes glazed over.
“Ah, ah, ah!” He couldn't hold back the eruption of his breath. Carlotta cried out in despair, recognizing that she was soon to be filled with the polluting sperm of her tormentor, the final, cruel, inescapable indignity.
A rack seemed to be torturing Cesare's organ, pulling it, distending it, punishing it with a voluptuous, throbbing clench.
His hands moved off her marked, reddened breasts, clamped on her waist, jerked her hips at. his prick. He slowed his stroke, surging into her to the very root of his pulsating tube. His head swayed back on his neck, his chest heaved with choking breaths, his buttocks clamped together as he flexed inwards, his hands made fresh marks on her waist. It was here, here, gathered ready to fly, gathered, gathered, couldn't be held. “Uuuuugh!” His head jumped, his teeth gritted and fell apart, gritted again as he pumped the full extent of his lust between her legs, discharging it into the slim, gripping channel.
The princess lay under him, her head turned sideways into the leaves. It was over now, over and done, an eternal, ineradicable shame. The tears dried on her face, her head ached, her vagina ached and throbbed. It felt swollen and inflamed and her breasts hurt. She wished she were dead.
Slowly Cesare climbed off her. He stood up, wiped his penis on one of her garments and looked down on her. There was nothing haughty or inaccessible about her now. Her body was marked in a number of places from the rough usage he'd subjected her to. And her gaping legs were divided by a red, raw-looking area of flesh where his prick had scourged her.
He looked down at his organ as he wiped it. It was red and hot and there were traces of her blood around its limp base. He wiped the blood off and threw the garment down beside her.
He dressed with a feeling of triumph and satisfaction and, leaving her fastened and spread-eagled, walked back through the trees to the clearing.
Most of his men had finished loosing their lust on Carlotta's ladies-in-waiting. Some were dressing, others still naked, yet others still bobbing on the nude bodies of their prey. Many hadn't bothered to seek the privacy of even a small bush in order to indulge their sexual appetites.
Cesare gave a loud whistle and after a few minutes lookouts rode in. They had taken up their posts as a matter of course although it was highly unlikely that there would be any wanderers at this depth of the forest.
The Duke indicated to the newly-arrived that they were to take the places of their companions, a task they fell to with gusto, while those who had worked out their passion moved off through the trees to keep guard.
Beckoning to three of his men, Cesare led them off toward the spot where Carlotta lay.
“Have her one after the other,” he told them in low voice on the way, “and make her suffer.”
The men grinned lasciviously. They considered themselves lucky to be offered the most noble lady of the group.
For a while Cesare watched his men tormenting the prostrate body of the princess as a preliminary to fresh rape, then he walked off through the trees to make sure the lookouts were well posted.
He felt highly satisfied with the day's events. He had taught Carlotta a lesson she would never forget. It was very probable she'd feel it necessary to leave the French Court. In any case he wouldn't have her now even if she suddenly agreed to his suit. She could keep her dowry.
Cesare had no fear of discovery. The coup had been well planned and executed. He was aware there was a slight possibility that in some quarters suspicion might fix on him. But he was not afraid of suspicion. And for the most part it would not be dreamed that such a dastardly crime could be authored by any but the crudest of brigands.
He and his men, he mused, would ride back — with suitable scouts-along the tracks made by the princess and her cortege on the out-coming journey. Near the fringe of the woods they would have to separate into pairs and ride off in different directions, getting back to their quarters at different times and from different directions. They would leave the women tied to trees with the dead for company. By nightfall the King's men would be scouring the woods in search of them and their cries would soon bring about their rescue. He'd have them left naked so that Louis' men would also have a very astonishing eyeful-an eyeful they would hardly be able to keep to themselves. And so the story would be quickly spread.
Whistling softly, Cesare finished the checking of the lookouts, and strolled back to the spot where Carlotta was finding over and again that her flesh was not inviolate.
The sun was still splaying through the leaves, though from a more acute angle. Perhaps he had time for one more act of revenge. Perhaps if he screwed his prick into her ass that would be the crowning indignity.
He skirted the clearing, avoiding the locked couples from whom gasps and screams emitted at intervals in a more or less regular accompaniment to their rustle of movement.
The last of his men was reaching the climax to which Carlotta's well-gripping passage had brought him and Cesare squatted down with his other two henchmen and watched the man from the back view, his balls dangling, his behind tensing as it swept forward and his rod widened her. Carlotta no longer showed any emotion except for an occasional gasp as an extra-hard thrust took her by surprise.
In a low voice Cesare gave orders to his men.
“When he's finished you can leave me with her for a short time. Go back and help the others lash the women to trees. Make sure that they remain blindfolded-and not a word if there's any chance you'll be heard.”
The buttocks of the ravisher were whipping in faster and faster, the backs of his thighs trembling. He gave a staccato series of coughing barks in which his body straightened and jerked convulsively. Then he staggered back from her on his knees and rested, kneeling, with his head dropped forward onto his chest.
Nobody hurried him and after a minute or two he turned, grinned without embarrassment at his companions and began to dress.
Cesare waited until all three were disappearing through the trees and then he stood up and walked over to Carlotta. Her body exuded an air of crushed and beaten animal. She could go no lower-she thought.
He took his knife from his belt and cut through the cords binding her wrists. She lay there, motionless. He pushed her with his foot and she seemed to come to her senses. She moved her hands up to the blindfold but he knocked them down.
Carlotta cringed in terror, completely subdued by the treatment to which she'd been subjected. He watched her, a cruel smile on his lips, until she moved her wrists and began to massage one with the other. She made no further attempt to remove the blindfold.
Watching her, ready for any movement to release her eyes from their confinement, he cut the bonds from her ankles and, painfully, she moved her legs together and wriggled her feet. She gave a little moan as she sat up and her vagina brushed the ground.
For a few minutes he allowed her to move her limbs and then he gathered the pieces of cord and knotted them into lengths again.
When he seized her, she made no effort to struggle. He turned her over so that she was lying face down on
