Ciara Cadici Ch. 03

Days continued, as the army of their enemies camped outside the city walls. Finally a messenger brought good news: Milan and the French king were coming to their aid.

When Philippe's father had occupied Milan, the Duke of Milan, Giuliano di Cardi, had not taken long to side with the French. He turned a feud into an alliance, and offered his army to king Henry, in return for keeping his governance over Milan, though under French control.

Henry and the Duke of Milan rode ahead, as their vast army marched on Florence. Through the corresponded gate, they entered the city, avoiding the army laying in siege.

Inside, they were warmly welcomed. Her uncle escorted them to the Palazzo Cadici. The atmosphere in the city was festive. Florence knew a huge army was coming to their aid. The enemy was vastly outnumbered. In a couple of days the threat would be dissolved, and they would be freed.

Ciara and Philippe were waiting in the courtyard. When the French king entered, he spread out his arms. First, he hugged Philippe. 'My boy,' he said. 'It is good to see you.'

'Father,' Philippe said. 'Thank you for coming to our aid.'

The duke of Milan stood behind them, wide-legged with his hands folded.

'We came as soon as we heard,' Henry replied to his son. Then, he turned to Ciara.

'My dear...' he said, with eyes full of pity.

They had met twice, when she had been in Nice with her father, when he was on diplomatic missions. He stepped towards her and closed her in a warm embrace. 'Thank god,' he said. 'Thank god that we came on time.' She almost felt her father in law shiver.

He had heard everything that had come to pass, of course. He didn't need the letters of Philippe to tell him about the army calling for the rape of the Cadici girl in Florence. It spread like fire over the country, travelling from mouth to mouth, by messenger, by dove.

Over the shoulder of her father in law, she saw Giuliano di Cardi, standing there as if hewn from stone. She felt the duke looking at her, cool bloodedly, almost with fascination. He was an intimidating man, in his late thirties, impressive in many ways. Tall and broad in the shoulders, he stood dignified, serious, , his strong facial features accented by his tied back hair, thick and wavy.

When her father in law let go of her, his eyes seemed wet. He looked her in the eye and squeezed her upper arms. 'You are safe now.'

Henry stepped back. He extended his arm towards the duke. 'The duke of me Milan,' he said. 'Giuliano di Cardi.'

The duke slowly stepped forward, bowing his head to the side in a small nod of polite greeting. 'Prince Philippe', he said. Then, turning his head to Ciara, after looking her intently in the eye: 'Madonna'.

'We are happy to receive you here in our palazzo,' Ciara said, with a clear voice of welcome. 'Our house is yours.' She made an inviting gesture to the rooms behind her. 'We are in your debt, and hope the friendship between Florence and Milan will make our cities stronger than ever.'

Her saviours had come. She was safe.

****

The next day she rummaged a bit in the house, thinking about the duke of Milan. They got along, at the diner table they had had good conversations. Yet she didn't know how to behave with him. He seemed distant. He felt reassuring, but inscrutable at the same time.

The men were in the Signoria. Practicing politics, no doubt. She walked into the second dining room, in the corner of the house.

The room was always a nice place to come to rest. It was smaller than the other dining room, and cosier. Contrary to the table in the centre of the house that could seat more than thirty people, here there was room for six, and there was a comfortable hearth with two chairs in front of it at the other side of the room.

Sunken in thought, she let her fingers stroll over the books stacked in the bookcases lining the walls, feeling the little knots of the carefully bound leather backs prickle her fingertips.

'There you are,' the duke said. Surprised, she turned around. The duke casually leaned with one shoulder in the door opening, arms folded in front of his chest. 'I was looking for you.'

'Duke di Cardi', she said. 'Please, make yourself comfortable,' she said, gesturing to the chair in front of the hearth. 'I thought you were in the city. What can I do for you?'

He looked relaxed. She let go of the tension of the initial scare and relaxed too.

Looking to get a servant to fetch some food and wine, she moved to walk out of the room.

As she moved past him, all of a sudden she felt an iron grip close around her wrist. The duke had stopped her in her steps. 'That won't be necessary,' the duke said.

An ominous feeling crept up in her body. He had already crossed the conventions of polite behaviour by grabbing her like that. What was he on about?

'Please let go of my arm,' she said, cooly.

He ignored her. His face was inches from hers as he looked her over, again, in his studying, mysterious way. 'You really are a beauty,' he said, as if talking to himself, temporarily lingering his eyes on her lips. 'The stories are not exagerated.'

She jerked her wrist loose, and moved back into the room, since he was clearly blocking her way. She crossed her arms and walked away from him, thinking. Her long black hair flowed down her back.

She turned around. Standing tall, she rested her hands on the table behind her. Her luxurious, straight dress was perfectly cut to her body, hugging her narrow waist, and falling smoothly down her slightly flaring hips.

'What do you want?' she said, frowning. Some unruly strands of hair had fallen around her face, but she did not even seem to notice them. She was completely focused on the duke, on her guard.

The duke laughed and looked at her from a distance. He was still leaning in the doorway. He let his eyes roam down her body without shame.

'I want my prize,' he said, simply.

'You didn't think I came here for nothing?' he said, as he slowly walked towards her.

'I don't care what the French king says,' he said. 'I won't be choused. '

'I'll collect my own payment.' He grabbed her and pulled her to his chest, kissing her forcefully.

'NO!' she exclaimed, trying to push him away. This can't be happening, she thought to herself. He is supposed to be her saviour!

She tried to escape his grasp, but he didn't give her any heed at all. He held her tight to his body as his brutal hands were, all of a sudden, everywhere.

He felt her up, as if her body was his. Boldly, he started holstering up her skirts. His hand brushed her naked leg. She violently pushed him off. But immediately after, she felt the back off his hand crash across her cheekbone, launching her head to the side, and launching her on her back on the table.

Having her laying down, he gathered her wrists and fixed them above her head in one strong hand.

'The pure, beautiful Ciara Cadici,' he said, sardonically, taking a break as if to appreciate himself for this conquest. Dazily, she tried to free her arms, but to no avail. He was too strong. He went to stand right between her legs, as he pulled his belt. She heard his buckle click.

Desperately, she tried to get away, wriggling, but he was like steel. He swept her skirts to the side and wrenched her thighs apart with his hands. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. Not like this. In her own house, by someone who had supposedly come to protect her, after having escaped everything until now unharmed.

As if in a trance, she saw him whip out his large, hard member. He stroked his cock and came to stand right against her.

He pushed her skirts all the way out of the way now, exposing her to him. Her pink pussy, lightly topped with her soft curls, was now in plain sight. She tried to push her legs together, digging her knees hard in his sides. But she couldn't expell him.

Undisturbed, he touched her pussy, sliding his thumb over her clitoris, then pushing the tip of his penis between her soft folds.

'No,' she thought. She felt as if her body barred the entrance. But still he managed to push past her barrier, plunging himself into her.

He let out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut, as he pierced her on his cock. She threw her head in her neck, shut her eyes too, arched on the table and let out a cry as he entered her, deep.

Burried in her to the hilt, he looked down on her, and felt her clench around him, incredibly hard. Submerged in extatic sensation, he ran his large hand over her body, kneading her breasts over her dress, feeling her.

He dove into her neck, kissing her neck, her earlobe, her cleavage, as he slowly started moving in and out of her. Her skin was so soft everywhere. God, she was tight.

Sobbing, she launched a punch at him again, and again he took her wrists, this time in both hands, pushing them down beside her head.

He looked at her, as she looked back at him defiantly, face wet with tears. Even now she is beautiful, he thought. He could hardly contain himself.

Hoovering over her, firmly pinning her wrists to the table, he raped her. He slammed into her. She felt the table shake and let out muffled cries, with every stroke.

Like that, he took her, hard, mercilessly. She attemped to close herself off as she tried to accommodate his large cock, to make the pain bearable. He didn't notice, and he wouldn't care. He was a man used to getting what he wants and taking it if it is not given freely.

Leaning heavily on her wrists, he plunged into her, again and again. She could hear him grunting as his strokes intensified, taking her deeper and deeper, as he held her down.

Finally, he spilled his seed in a roaring orgasm, splashing her with his semen.

She breathed shakily, sharp breaths audible. Slowly, he let go off her wrists, bracing himself on the table. He was still inside of her.

He opened his eyes, again traveling his eyes over her body. He took her breast in one broad gesture, one more time. She winced. Then he kissed her, as he pulled out and closed his pants back up.

'Good luck explaining this to you husband,' he said, as she was lying on the table, slowly starting to move again. And he turned around and left her, straightening his clothes, smoothing back his hair, without looking back.