Chapter 9
Lucrezia was fourteen years old and a woman of great and varied experience before the Pope succeeded in arranging for her a marriage which suited his ambition. Such a marriage as would have been worthy for a daughter of Cardinal Roderigo Borgia was no longer good enough for Pope Alexander VI. He sought for her an alliance among Italy's princely houses.
It was thus that she became bestowed upon the Lord of Pesaro with a dowry of 30,000 ducats.
The Lord of Pesaro, Giovanni Sforza, himself no more than a youth, thus provided the Pope with much desired stronger relations with Milan-albeit though Giovanni himself was no more than a bastard of the powerful Milanese house of Sforza.
The nuptials were celebrated with magnificence in the Vatican, and culminated in a supper party given by the Pope to which ten specially picked cardinals and a number of the ladies and gentlemen of Rome were invited.
After a meal of much good food and more good wine, the Pope announced a special attraction and following on his words some fifty courtesans were brought in and set to dance with the servants.
Many amongst them were of considerable beauty. They were well known to the Pope, the majority of them having already shared his bed.
The dances were stately and well-performed and the guests applauded politely, wondering what was so special about a spectacle which one could see at any
Roman ball.
But, just about the time when those present were beginning to get a little bored with the dancing, Alexander clapped his hands. And at his signal, both courtesans and their partners stripped off their clothes and continued the dancing stark naked.
There was an appreciative buzz of excitement at this unexpected novelty in the holy place. The men felt their pressures rise as they examined the stately sway of some of the most curvaceous bodies in Rome. The ladies, for the other part, tried discreetly to hide their enormous interest in the flopping lengths of meat which dangled between the husky servants' legs.
The Pope, well flushed with liquor, stretched back in his chair and appraised the comparative qualities of various breast and buttocks. To his nearest male neighbors he gave descriptions of the bed-worthy qualities of many of the female dancers, while the ladies within earshot sniggered and replied with quips about the men, wagering on how big they would grow, which would be the longest under titillation.
Already having anticipated this argument, Alexander clapped his hands once again, and, continuing with their dance, the courtesans, each time they came into contact with their partners, gave a quick, expert rub or tickle to their organs until the latter were rising up majestically.
"Now you will have the answer to the problem," the Pope said with a chuckle to the Lady Manfredi who was his nearest neighbor. Her hand stole over to his lap and pressed him playfully at his genital region.
"I'm sure there can be no better than the holiest," she said with a grin.
The Pope leaned towards her with a smile.
"You flatter me," he said, "but modesty prevents me from comment. Perhaps you would like to join me in consideration of the possibility after the spectacle."
"You are very bold, Roderigo," she replied, softly. "But a bold man usually gets what he wants."
She gave his penis a squeeze and withdrew her hand smiling, to turn her attention back to the scene.
All the servants had big erections by this time. The great cudgels soared out from them like artificial fixtures. In spite of what must have been some turmoil in their loins, they contrived to keep poker faces as the Pope had previously ordered.
The eyes of the spectators were goggling. It was the first time most of them had seen such mass nudity and such mass sexual excitement so openly displayed.
Another sign from Alexander and more servants appeared with huge baskets of apples with the centers hollowed out so that only an outside husk remained. These were fitted onto the stiff rods of the nude dancers.
There were gusts of uproarious laughter throughout the great hall at the comic sight of the artificially bloated knobs which had changed color to green, yellow and rosy-apple pink.
Still with perfectly serious faces, the servants sank to their knees on the beautiful mosaic floor and remained kneeling while the laughter shook the chandeliers.
As the first wave of hilarity from the guests began to fade into a ripple of pirvate titters, the naked women dancers knelt down on all fours with their backs toward each of their partners. There was a fresh craning of necks, goggling of eyeballs at the fresh views which were presented.
Slowly, without looking backward, the courtesans moved back until the apple-bloated rods were touching the soft flesh between their thigh-tops. Then began a series of hip and bottom-wrigglings as they tried to take the apples. It became clear that the idea was for them to take the fruit and then withdraw it if they could from the male organ it surrounded.
Cardinals watched with panting lips.
"It's a race," the Pope confided. "The first woman to get the apple off can choose the biggest man to delight her in bed tonight."
The fascinating race was on. Some of the women seemed unable to expand sufficiently to get around the large husk of apple. They were forced to rub against and around the fruit until they were able to slip backward more easily. Others got halfway impaled but could get no farther, while others again soon got the whole of the apple inside them but couldn't pull it off.
The male servants were very excited and many of them gripped the hips of the woman kneeling against them, whereupon they were warned that they were not allowed to help her task in any way.
In some cases, careful watchers suspected that a woman was really making little effort to remove the apple, but was, on the contrary trying to keep it in place while she jogged excitedly back and forth on it and the hilt behind it.
In fact, the race appeared to be something of a put-up job for the benefit of the spectators' lustful instincts, for it certainly wasn't won quickly and soon every woman had swallowed the apple. But each continued to push sexily backward and forward on her apple-crowned staff.
At last, however, one of the performers contracted tightly and determinedly around the bulging apple which was killing her with its size and pulled it off its stem with a fierce sucking 'plop' which was heard throughout the hall. There was an immediate, raucous round of applause and a number of the spectators stood up to get a clearer view of the winner.
She was a slim, dark girl with top-heavy breasts, surprisingly slim hips and strong, unusually big thighs.
She was kneeling with her head hanging as if in exhaustion, her lips apart, the apple spreading her like a large, fruit-filled cavern. Her partner's rod was red and chafed from the friction of the apple during her efforts to remove it. He, too, was panting and had fallen forward onto his hands, his stomach heaving deeply.
The Pope stood up and clapped his hands yet again. There was a gradual slowing down of the tempo in the hall. Reluctantly, the remaining couples recognized that someone had succeeded. There was a cascade of fresh 'plops' as one after another they followed up their achievement. Now they were in a hurry for the last to succeed was to be refused sexual intercourse for two months-and a supervision was to enforce the condition.
At last all the apples had been confined in their temporary dwelling-places. The servants stood up, showing off the extended proportions of their stimulated stems.
"Right gentlemen." The Pope addressed himself to the guests. "I'm sure you'll all agree we've just witnessed a delicious spectacle. What would happen to the apples? Well, gentlemen, it's not often that you can have tasted the finest fruit. So the ladies will now pass over their delectable morsels."
With that, the courtesans divested themselves of their fruit. Some squatted and ejected the apples with a straining effort into their hands, others pulled out the fruit with their fingers, others still allowed their partners to pull out the spheres.
Each of the women then carried her issue to the long banqueting table and presented it to a man of her choice-a cardinal, a knight, a baron, whoever took her imagine.
Each recipient eagerly took the fruit, raised it to the donor and then bit into it with relish.
The courtesans watched with gleaming eyes, smiling at the avidity with which the orbs were munched in the mouths of the princes and prelates.
Alexander gave a fresh order and the woman who had first managed to suck the apple from her bloated branch looked around at the specimens of genital rigidity. They were of all lengths and thicknesses-little to choose between them. She walked among them, feeling them for heat and fleshiness and eventually she chose that of a handsome young man whose penis was so shaped that it grew thicker and thicker from knob to base. Thus she would be ensured of fresh delight and surprise through all its length.
At a sign from the Pope, the servant pushed the woman's face forward over the banquet table. He seized a banana from a cluster in a nearby basket and thrust it into her from behind. In and in he jogged it while the spread-eagled strumpet wriggled against the heavily draped edge of the table in front of a hundred pairs of high-ranking eyes.
For some minutes the servant shoved the banana into her, holding it by one ripe, yellow end until it had almost disappeared. Then he withdrew it at last and with the first sign of animation he'd shown, rammed into her.
The ladies present didn't know what to look at most, his handsome, passion-wracked face or his enormous, penetrating penis. They watched in a thigh-rubbing fascination as he thrust deeper and deeper and the woman, bent under him, her breasts crushed against the table, groaned and pleaded for more.
He had settled down to a steady, moan-drawing rhythm, gripping her table-flattened hips, pulling at the same time as lower down he pushed, before Alexander glanced at where Lady Manfred! was wriggling on her seat, a slight smile on her lips.
"It pleases you to see such a scene?" he whispered with a smile.
"I can think of only one thing to please me better," she whispered back, glancing significantly at the place where his organ was hidden by his robes.
"We needn't wait for the end," he said. "Cardinal Rovere will take over."
"Let's go then," she said, "I can't wait."