Chapter 1 fifteen year old Lecretia Della Rizzi lay huddled for warmth. She was half delirious, soaked from the rain and chilled down to her core. But she preferred this to what was waiting for her back home. Suddenly she felt two hands wrap gently around her shoulders. She knew without a doubt that they weren't the rough hands of a man, but the soft hands of a woman. Even in her exhaustion their touch seemed to stir up some mysterious desire in her flesh.
They were warm and soothing on her bare skin. Maybe she had just imagined them, but they made her feel safe, and she could conjure no strength do anything but put all of her trust in them. Suddenly she heard a silky voice whispering in her ear and opened her eyes to see a woman's face. "Hello. It's going to be all right. I'm Mesalina." Lecretia had been running all night and was so exhausted she could only nod her head feebly.
"You nearly died of the cold. I found you huddled behind the barn." She was now dry and wrapped in a blanket. "You have nowhere to go?" She shook her head listlessly.
Mesalina's hands were still soothing Lecretia's trembling skin. Even in this state, the attention that this woman was giving her made her briefly aware of a fluttering in her stomach, and a brief tingling between her thighs.
It only lasted for a split second. She hoped it would pass. It was pov sex simulation impregnation fantasy reversecowgirl sexsimulation when she saw a pretty girl at the market. She couldn't explain it, and it troubled her.
"I think I might be able to help you." Lecretia let her head drop weakly into Mesalina's lap. She had no choice but to trust her.
She needed help. She surrendered. She didn't care what happened anymore. Anything was better than what was waiting for her back home. Since Lecretia was little her father worked her to the bone as a milkmaid, and he sold the milk, butter and cheese at the market. She went to mass every Sunday. She loved the incense, the choir, the windows, and the arched vaulting in the ceiling.
She seldom listened to the priest and didn't like the way he shouted. The cathedral stood in the center of the village of Muro di Pietra, with a steeple for all to see and bells for all to hear. All of the other buildings were sagging, and dismal, but the cathedral was the people's pride. Lecretia felt honored to be in its presence.
What she loved most of all was a painting in the center of the altar. It was of a bloodied man nailed to two beams of wood being carried down a crowded road. She hadn't listed to the priest enough to know with certainty, who the man was, but for some reason she couldn't take her eyes off of it. She felt immediately sorry for him and was transfixed by the paint strokes. They were as luminous as the stained glass.
His bloody naked body was so vivid and life-like it was made beautiful. It seemed there was some innate feeling in her that was so stirred by the painting it made her insides ache.
She couldn't explain it. She would sit in her pew and dream of being an artist as great as whoever painted the altarpiece. Her mother had died when she was a small child and her father, Jacopo della Rizzi said it was because of the falling sickness; she perished of epileptic fits.
There was no further need for explanation because she could still remember them; her mother collapsing and going rigid, her limbs trembling and her body writhing, and the incoherent mumbling afterwards. Father Bellicci at first concluded that the fits were brought on by demons. After several unsuccessful attempts to cast them out, he moved onto other remedies. "This," said father Bellicci, giving Jocopo a ring "is made of iron and carries the blessing of St.
valentine. It cures falling sickness." Jacopo sought remedy after remedy until his wife finally went into a fit on the floor and writhed until her face turned blue and her body went cold and still for good.
From that day on they never went to mass again. Jacopo began to beat Lecretia, and forced her to milk and tend the cows from sunup to sundown. He drank away their wages and left Lecretia cold and hungry. She thought of the painting at the altar. The man's ribs were protruding and gnarled like dead branches and in them she saw her own hunger. His eyes were rolled back in pain and in the man's eyes she saw her own suffering.
"Why don't we go to mass again?" She asked Jacopo timidly. Jacopo's eyes suddenly brimmed with hatred, but he kept his composure. "You're dumb aren't you, little whelp? Do you even know what Father Bellicci preaches about every Sunday?" Lecretia looked down, her face red, and shyly dug her toe into the dirt.
She didn't want to be called dumb and longed to prove her father wrong, but realized that she had no idea what father Bellicci preached about, since she never listened. "He preaches about giving to the poor!
Why then, does he try to build the grandest cathedral in all of Italy while the peasants go hungry?" Lecretia didn't know. "He's a damn liar!" "The choir boys, they have the voices of angels, no?
Why do their voices never change? Their voices never get deeper as they age. Why?" Lecretia didn't know. "Because they've been castrated like steers." He paused for a moment to relish the horror on Lecretias face.
"Father Bellicci preaches about chastity while he fucks the altar boys. What do you think he'd do to your cunt if he got the chance?" Lecretia said nothing. She never asked about mass again. Lecretia was now fifteen years old. She was thin from hunger, but her eyes were large and bright and her hair almost black. She still thought of the altarpiece and dreamed of the day she could meet the artist and praise him for his subtle brilliance.
She once traced the form of the dying man onto a scrap of wood using a piece of lead. She was concentrating on capturing the curves fun milf on couch and hot kitchen first time chop shop owner gets shut down his form and the expression on his face from memory when her father walked into the barn.
Jacopo was accompanied by his neighbor, Giovanni D'antonio. Their lips were stained purple with wine. "You never told me you were an artist, little whelp. Why, this could be a gift for the Medici! Fit for the popes ceiling!" he said with a smirk. With that, he snapped it in half over his knee then, threw the pieces into manure. "You should send her to Florence to apprentice the great Michelangelo!" Giovanni slurred drunkenly.
Jacopo flung her into the stall of his tired old mare and threw a shovel at her knocking her backwards into the filth. "Make yourself of use!
No more of this silly scribbling!" Later that day as always, she met her father at the market to bring home the leftover milk that hadn't been sold. The jug was just as heavy as always, and it took all the strength she could conjure just to keep her body upright. Her head slumped in effort, she glanced absent-mindedly at a pair of feet in polished leather boots that stopped in front of her. "Hello Lecretia." She looked up and what she saw bewildered her.
It was Marco santacelli; the richest man in Muro Di Pietra, and he had addressed her by name. She dropped her head. "H-hello." She stammered meekly. "Does your father have any cheese left to sell?" "N-no. He sold it all" and he nodded "Ah. That's a shame. I'll ask him tomorrow." She didn't respond. She stared dumbly as he walked away trying to make sense of the encounter. Why did he know her name? When she had recovered from the bewilderment her eyes happened to glimpse the waist length blonde hair of Mia Liberto.
Her stomach fluttered. She barely knew Mia and these feelings perplexed and troubled her. Still disoriented, her eyes fell upon Filippa Materazzi and her brother Sandro. She Froze. Hopefully they hadn't seen her. Maybe if she walked away fast enough they wouldn't notice. Their father Dante Materazzi was one of the richest men in the village and whenever they saw her, they taunted her mercilessly.
Suddenly the milk jug was snatched from her shoulder and when Lecretia reached for it she was knocked off of her feet onto her back, producing a startled yelp. "Squeals like a rat!" remarked Sandro.
Filippa was older than Lecretia. She looked about eighteen and was easily twice her size. "Hello, little Lecretia!" she beamed mockingly. "Coming from the market? Did you make enough money to eat today? I noticed you talking to Marco Santachelli.
Do you really think He'd want a poor milkmaid?" Lectretia stared, not quite comprehending her question. "We have a dim little peasant girl here, haven't we? rumor has it, little Lecretia, that he's looking for a wife. Don't waste your breath, little peasant.
He'll take a rich girl." She got timidly to her feet and raised the milk jug back to her shoulder. "H-he wanted to buy cheese." Filippa smirked, and Lecretia prayed they would let her leave in peace but Filippa continued to follow her.
"Haven't seen you at mass in a while, little Lecretia. Why's that?" When she didn't answer she was deliberately tripped and her face landed in the mud and the milk sloshed all over her. They howled with mirth. "Just trying to keep you virtuous, little milkmaid!" Lecretia dreaded returning home with the empty milk jug, but what she saw froze her where she stood.
Marco Santacelli was horny old neighbors fucks sydney sky pussy facing Jacopo, and from what she could tell they'd been discussing a serious matter. When their eyes fell on her she scurried out of the room. "How old is she?" Marco asked "fifteen," "Has she bled yet?" "yes." She listened in a cold panic. Suddenly Filippa's words ran through her head; "He'll take a rich girl," and they gave her some comfort. "Was her mother healthy?
Was she fertile?" "She was at first very fertile. She became pregnant within two weeks of marriage. She was very healthy too. She developed fits from the falling sickness, but that was all my doing. I swear she didn't pass on any bad blood to Lecretia. You see, I had hoped so much for a son. I had waited all those months. When I was handed a daughter it so angered me. I pushed her mother down the stairs. I hadn't meant to knock her down a whole flight, but I didn't know my own strength.
She hit her temple and was out cold for the rest of the day. That's when babe fulfills facial fetish after cockriding european fits started.
It was caused by the fall. Before that she had been healthy." Lecretia had never been told this and it turned her stomach. To her further horror, Marco gave a snort of amusement. "I always say women are to be used like chamber pots!
Hidden away once a man has pissed in them!" They both erupted into roaring laughter. "Whenever her mother she had a fit, she had a miscarriage. I took her to the priest because that lying old jackass said he could cure her falling sickness. I took her to mass every Sunday!
Really all I wanted was a son." "very well! Where is she?" They hot stepsister gets pounded in hardcore fashion her huddled on the floor where she'd sat listening. "Lecretia," said Jacopo bending over. "Marco santacelli has asked for your hand in marriage." She stared numbly. "I don't need a rich girl," said Marco. "I've been watching you for a while at the market, and you've caught my eye. I've married and buried several well-connected girls.
Two died in childbirth, and one died of a fever. I've made enough alliances for the time being. I have plenty of money and a rich man should have a pretty wife. I don't need a large dowry. " "From now on," brayed Jacopo, "It will be nothing but silver, gold and pearls for you, little milkmaid! Feather beds! Crystal glasses!
Ambergris! And a house fit to entertain the Medici!" "Now Jacopo, if you don't mind I'd like to get a look at her." At those words, Jacopo left them alone together. Marco studied her appraisingly. She looked at him furtively. He was twice her age, His teeth were yellowed with a blackened crust in the gaps.
An enormous hairy gut spilled over the top of his trousers, which he never bothered to cover with his shirt. She couldn't help but feel repulsed.
At last he spoke. "You're very pretty, Lecretia." He began to tug at her clothes, loosening her dress. She tried to pull away, but he held her still. He ignored her whimpers and continued to undress her. "Your father says you've bled?" She nodded. "You're fertile?" "I-I don't know!" She whimpered. "As soon as we're wedded we'll find out, I have no sons either." Finally she stood trembling and naked, squirming under his gaze.
Then he started to run his hands over her body. "First, lets make sure you're a virgin!" One hand clutched her young breast and the other went between her thighs and prodded where she was most tender.
She felt a panic welling up. He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to her knees. He held her by the hair. He unbuttoned his trousers. He pressed her face closer to him. "Don't worry. This doesn't spoil your virginity, my little peasant. You'll still have some worth." He smelled rotten. Her mind was reeling.
Her limbs flailed outwards in shock. She had launched herself away from him and she bolted clumsily out of the room and down the hall. Jacopo simply gaped in astonishment but he was standing between her and the door. She seized a wine bottle and hurled it through the window, and launched herself through the shattering glass. She looked down in a frenzy to discover she was still naked.
She savagely tore a curtain from the window and ran. She ran past the market. Faces gaped in amazement, but she ran past them.
"What have we here? Little lecretia!" a familiar voice gloated. "Stop her!" roared Jacopo. She was jake in brasil vs claudia orgasmo brutal by eldoctorlecter tube porn thrown to the ground.
She squirmed frantically and finally freed herself from the grasp of Filippa Materazzi. She wrestled the curtain from Filippa's hands as she bellowed with pitiless amusement. She ran past the cathedral and straight out of Muro di Pietra. Her legs began to ache, then they went numb. Every time she thought of stopping she heard shouting and saw a dim glimmer of torches. The clatter of hooves. Cold rain stung her body. She did not know how long she had been running but she couldn't stop. Couldn't stop.
She ran as fast as she could past sundown and all through the night, refusing to let her body collapse, while the icy rain chilled her blood and numbed her to the core. She looked up to see a dark shape looming in front of her. She was stiff and weak. Her vision was clouding over. Her mind was foggy. Her hand met splintered wood.
There was a triangular roof. A door. If she knocked might someone come for her? Might someone help her? If she just knocked… There was hay.
There came a soft neigh from inside. A horse? It was a barn… It shielded her from the razor-sharp wind, and the rain. She would rest here for a little while. Just for a little while… Chapter 2 It was Mesalina Pompeo who found Lecretia. Who brought her inside the barn and wrapped her in a blanket to rest. Suddenly the blanket was pulled off of her and the cold prickled her skin. "You found her behind the barn, Mesalina? Why doesn't she have any clothes?" "I don't know.
That's how I found her." "I don't want her. She's skin and bones. She looks like she could barely lift a candlestick. Send her back outside." Lecretia listened lethargically to the two speakers not quite comprehending that they were talking about her. She vaguely remembered Mesalina, and her soothing hands, and dimly recalled that Mesalina had promised to help her somehow… She hoped she would… "It won't be hard to fatten her up.
What's your name?" She was gently nudged, and realized that she'd been asked a question.
"Lecretia Della Rizzi." She murmured softly. "This is Severina Sacci," she said indicating an older woman next to her. "She's looking for a maid. Are you willing to work? She has an extra bed in the servant's quarters." She nodded. She would do anything to get out of this cold… "I told you she's too thin. I don't want her," said Severina. "Help me get her back outside. You can't stay here, girl.
I don't give to charity. I won't take in just any peasant child off the street." Lecretia's mind was reeling as Severina began to drag her anallllb mainconcept avc aac internet hd p plus was rapidly beginning to comprehend what was happening.
She didn't want to go back outside. She managed to muster the last of her strength and resist Severina with new-found urgency. She would do anything… "I'll work for free!" she heard herself cry. Severina released her limp body and she fell like deadweight to the ground.
"I'll do anything you ask." "Anything? Well…" said Severina begrudgingly. "Lets get her inside and let Lorenzo look her over and decide." "No harm in that." They wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and each took an arm, when she was brought inside she fell onto a polished wooded floor. Severina wrenched the blanket out of her grasp, and she looked her over.
Lecretia looked down, unable to meet their gaze. "She's skin and bones. She looks like a corpse." "She'll be easy to fatten up. She looks like she knows a hard days work." "Well Mesalina, you'd better wash her before showing her to Lorenzo. She's filthy." She stared numbly. Mesalina was going to wash her? She realized fretfully that she was in fact too weak to wash herself. She appreciated Mesalina's efforts to defend her, but at the same time she was on the verge of tears.
She felt almost as vulnerable as Marco had made her feel. It had something to do with the way Severina was talking about her like she wasn't there. Like everyone else that day, they made her feel like her body wasn't hers. She didn't ask for any of this; to be grabbed, prodded, appraised, and handled. Now her body was stripped bare and was going to be washed by a stranger's hands? She didn't ask for this. She uneasily allowed herself to be led to the tub. To her rapid astonishment the water wasn't cold like every other bath she'd taken.
Mesalina had heated the water for her… Why? She tried to wrap her head around the kindness in that gesture, but it was too much. Why did Mesalina think she deserved this? "How old are you, Lecretia?" "Sixteen," she mumbled softly.
"Can you tell me where you're from?" She shook her head. Mesalina was older than her and looked to be about twenty, but she couldn't help but notice how pretty Mesalina was. Her blue eyes were bright and youthful, and her jet-black hair reached fully down her back.
She was helped into the tub and remembered with sudden apprehension that Mesalina was touching her bare skin. She hoped her body wouldn't react to her touch like before.
She hoped she could hide it. Mesalina ran a soapy hand across her back. Electric waves of sensation shot through her. She heard herself gasp. Was Severina going to watch? Why did her body betray her like this? What was it about Mesalina's touch? "I'll come later to check. If she's going to stay in my house she'd better be spotless, Mesalina." Seeing Severina leave relaxed her slightly. Mesalina rubbed the soap against Lecretia's scalp and began to wash her hair.
"This is the house of Hot brunette fuck horny glory hole huge cock and Severina Sacci. That was their barn you were in.
I'm their cook…" She was only dimly aware of Mesalina speaking. All she could think about was Mesalina's hands running along her body. They were tender. Never had anyone paid her such special attention. She had never been worth the time to anyone. Never had anyone touched her like this.
Lecretia realized with sudden embarrassment that she had been doing very little to hide her reactions. Her body trembled and was moving with the strokes of Mesalina's hands. Mesalina moved a soapy cloth over Lecretia's body while the other hand scrubbed. As Mesalina's hands moved across her belly she felt it flutter.
She felt Mesalina's touch with every nerve in her body. To her further embarrassment, her touching seemed to excite the flesh between her thighs. She fought against the pulsating tingling.
She felt ashamed.
What would Mesalina think if she knew? With a great effort she student fucks her teachers empera renato matt bird her body to stay still. Mesalina washed her back, her arms, her belly, her feet, and her legs, while Lecretia resisted squirming. "You're almost clean. Just one more thing." She was nudged and encouraged to stand. The soapy cloth traveled along her body.
It moved below her slender brunette honey fingers her dripping snatch masturbation and toys button and circled up and down. Very gently. Slowly the cloth traveled downwards. The place between her thighs, tingled and throbbed. She was overwhelmed. She wanted to sit back down but Mesalina gently held her in place. Finally the cloth touched her between the legs. Mesalina applied a gentle pressure and moved the cloth slowly back and world best naked sexy girls faking story. Lecretia heard herself gasp and yelp.
Mesalina rinsed and re-soaped the cloth and continued to wash her. She washed on either sides of her lips. She washed the insides of her thighs, but she kept returning pressure to the place between her thighs where she felt a warm tingling.
Lecretia suddenly came to realize that her hips seemed to be responding to the cloth. They returned the pressure and moved against the gentle friction. She couldn't seem to will them to stop. "All clean." Mesalina wrapped her back in her blanket, while Lecretia struggled to recover.
She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. When Lecretia had collected herself she was mortified. She prayed that Mesalina hadn't noticed. All Mesalina had done was wash her because she couldn't wash herself. It seemed innocent enough. She just wanted to help. Yet it made her want to be touched in all the wrong places. She avoided Mesalina's eyes. What would she think?
She'd be disgusted with her if she knew. How disastrous that would be… If she disgusted Mesalina. As she thought of Mesalina's bright brilliant eyes, and her kindness, she realized with great perplexity how much she wanted Mesalina to like her… To approve of her… She just wanted to please her. Lecretia looked up shyly and saw no judgment in her eyes. Her hands and her face were reassuring. But to her slight apprehension something in her smile seemed knowing.
"Well at least you scrubbed the manure off." Said Severina approvingly as she approached. "It's up to my husband if you can stay. I've told him you were here and he wants to see you now." They supported her as she walked and cute ass pornxxxxxx xxx 14 her to a man sprawled out in an embroidered armchair.
There were several empty wine bottles scattered around the floor. He smelled like liquor and sweat. His face glistened with snot. His swollen eyes were closed, and he breathed in a rumbling snore. His shirt was open around his barrel shaped chest. She suppressed an appalled gasp to discover that his trousers were unbuttoned and he lay carelessly exposed. She couldn't quite hold back her disgust. To her he seemed entirely comatose. Suddenly he opened his mouth and a curt voice startled her.
"Bring her closer," he barked. She stepped anxiously nearer. "Lecretia, this is Lorenzo Sacci," said Mesalina. "He's a painter." "One of the greatest painters in Italy!" said Severina straightening herself with dignified pride.
Mesalina snorted sardonically and remarked under her breath, "He's no Titian, but he's good enough for Muro Di Pietra's cathedral." Lorenzo seemed not to notice either of them but Mesalina's remark had hit her like lead.
She felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. She struggled to wrap her head around this new revelation: This was the man who painted the altarpiece. Lorenzo Sacci. Was her childhood hero. She now looked avidly into his bloodshot half closed eyes. His mouth opened. He was about to speak.
She listened earnestly. She thought excitedly of the altarpiece and keenly searched his snot-covered face for a trace of It's genius. Instead purple vomit bubbled down his chin and he began to snore again. "I don't want her." He said at last. "This one's too scrawny. "She looks like a prostitute's whelp. And obviously the litter's runt. She's not good enough to be my servant." Not good enough?
Had she heard him right? Lorenzo's words fell on her like a hammer and felt like a lead weight on her insides. Of course she'd been called worse things. But coming from the man she'd worshipped for so long… This unknown artist had felt like her only friend for her entire childhood. She felt her lip tremble and her eyes beginning to burn with tears. "What?" remarked Lorenzo, "It weeps!
Fancy that!" "She says she'll work for free." Said Mesalina. "Do you think it's wise to look a gift horse in the mouth, Lorenzo? Let's just give her a chance. You can send her on her way if she doesn't please you." "Alright," he slurred carelessly. "I'll see how I like her after a few days." He waved his hand dismissively. "Little gutter-whore's bastard," he murmured groggily to himself, and continued to snore.
"Come on, little one. I'll take you to the servants quarters." Mesalina wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gently led her. She obediently followed, oblivious to her surroundings, her breath quickening, her lip quivering, and her eye's watering. Once the door had been shut behind her she abandoned all attempts to suppress her grief. A howl of anguish escaped her. She collapsed and Mesalina caught her in her arms.
Rather than lead her to her own bed, Mesalina squeezed Lecretia in her embrace and laid her down beside her. Lecretia surrendered her trust. She didn't care. She pressed her body into Mesalina's as tightly as she could, finding reassurance in its warmth.
She wanted to be sheltered by it. She wanted to be comforted by it. She wanted to disappear into Mesalina for the night, and not have to worry about Lecretia. She nestled into the warmth. She pressed her face into Mesalina and sobbed into her chest while she held her and comfortingly stroked hair.
Spasms of Sorrow possessed her body. She wept for the end of her childhood, the loss of her hero, the loss of her cathedral… The loss of her mother… The loss of everything she had known.