Setting aside the disappointment she felt at returning to the mundane world, Carla rose from her easel while her model rubbed her aching parts with soft groans. She saw the work she had done through impartial eyes and realised that it was very promising, but before she could say anything Monna Livia was giving orders.
‘Go over to that drawer, Carlo, and bring out the phial of oil you’ll find inside. My apothecary prescribed it for aches and pains and I’m in sore need of it now.’
Carla did as she was told, although she resented the woman’s peremptory tone. I am her portraitist, not her maid, she thought. But no sooner had she brought out the phial than further demands were made of her. ‘Just give my neck a rub, will you? I’ll lie on the bed.’
So she found herself cast in the rôle of masseuse. Sometimes she had rubbed Piero’s back for him with a similar remedy so she knew what to do, but she hated being treated like a servant. It was no use complaining, however. She knew she was lucky to get this commission, and if she didn’t perform to this woman’s complete satisfaction then excuses might be made to wriggle out of the contract. She knew that sometimes happened to artists who failed to please, or where the price of a commission could not, after all, be met by the patron.
Kneeling astride the woman’s pale legs, Carla poured some of the oil into her palm and began to apply it to her shoulders with gentle strokes.
‘You can press harder than that,’ she was told. ‘And mind you go all the way down to my thighs and calves. I’m aching from top to bottom.’
It felt very strange to be stroking another woman’s body, but Carla was fascinated by the meaty curves of her flesh and the soft texture of her skin. When she reached the springy mounds of the woman’s buttocks Monna Livia parted her thighs with a moan, but Carla thought no more of it, continuing down her legs with long, firm strokes.
When she had done her calves Carla thought her work was at an end, but she turned over onto her back with a sigh, saying, ‘My feet, you can do my poor feet that have been standing so long!’
Carla felt embarrassed to see the naked sex of another woman so shamelessly exposed. As she smoothed the fragrant oil from her heels to her toes she couldn’t help glancing at the plump vulva, plainly visible beneath the sparse brown hairs. The thick lips were pink and moist, resembling an exotic fruit or smooth seashell. Her eyes travelled up beyond the furry mound of her sex and the greater mound of her belly to the twin globes of her breasts. The whole of that female body seemed to her like an undulating landscape, full of curves and planes, and she marvelled at its voluptuousness. By comparison her own slim figure really seemed more like a boy’s.
Suddenly she realised that Monna Livia’s eyes were open, watching her. She blushed and the woman laughed. ‘What’s the matter, Carlo – never seen a naked woman before?’
‘Seen? Yes. But to touch . . .’
‘Ah, so you are a virgin! I thought as much. How old are you, sixteen, seventeen? Perhaps I should improve your education a little. How about an anatomy lesson?’
To Carla’s horror she opened her legs wide and displayed the deep pink contours that nestled between her thighs without the least embarrassment. Fascinated, Carla could not avert her gaze despite the hot tinge of shame that was creeping up from her neck to her cheeks.
‘If you want to be a great artist you should know the form of everything,’ Monna Livia continued. ‘After all, I am as God made me. We women may vary in size proportion but we’re all furnished by Mother Nature with the same basic equipment. And very useful equipment it is too, both for giving birth and for giving pleasure.’
Carla met her knowing gaze and blushed more deeply. The thought that perhaps this lady intended to seduce the young painter she had invited into her bedchamber struck her with terrifying force. If that was Monna Livia’s intention her secret would soon be discovered.
‘I – should really be leaving now,’ she said, awkwardly.
But the woman caught hold of her wrist, forcing her to remain where she was on the bed. Slowly Carla’s hand was guided towards the damp, pink chasm. Then a low, coaxing voice suggested, ‘Why not feel me down there? If you’ve never handled a woman before it will be good to know what one feels like.’
Carla tried to protest, but she was struck dumb. Her fingers brushed the wiry pubic hair and then found the wet opening surrounded by folds of soft, luscious flesh. There was a hard bulge at the top and the rest was slippery, soaking her fingers with copious juices. She heard Monna Livia sigh loudly and lean back against her pillow. ‘That’s right,’ she murmured, ‘have a good feel, there’s a dear. And don’t stop until I tell you!’
Although a part of Carla was dismayed at having to go through the charade, another part was fascinated, led on by some voyeuristic urge to discover what other women were like beneath their clothes. She stroked the vulva at random, but every time she came near to the protruding nub at the top there would be cries of, ‘Oh yes, there! Right there!’ and she realised that was the organ that was giving its owner most pleasure. She could recall how she sometimes throbbed and burned in the same place herself, and she began rubbing it tentatively, feeling the fleshy bud grow beneath her fingertips like a miniature penis.
‘Lick me now, right where you’re touching me!’ came the sudden, strange command.
Carla hesitated. Monna opened her eyes and stared at her with a look of desperation. ‘Please!’ she begged. ‘You want to know how to give a woman pleasure, don’t you Carlo? If you kiss a woman between the legs she will be so grateful to you. That way you may secure any woman’s favour including mine, believe me!’
Despite the bizarre nature of the request Carla bent her head towards the musky quim. She had sucked Piero off many times before now, but it had never occurred to her that women might like the same treatment. She smiled, recalling how she had taken on this commission in order to further her art education. Now she was being educated in other ways too!
The first taste of another woman was alien, like sampling some strange fruit, but Carla persisted and found the love-juices growing sweet on her tongue like some musky delicacy from the sea. She first laved all over the swollen tissues with the flat of her tongue, then used the tip to stimulate the bulbous clitoris.
Monna Livia responded with ecstatic sighs and murmurs of encouragement that made Carla bolder and soon she was mouthing and licking her with abandon, her hands stroking the smooth thighs all the while. Every so often she glanced up between the full breasts to see the look of rapt concentration on the woman’s face and her heartbeat raced in sympathy. She recognised the fever that often held her in thrall when she thought of Marco in her lonely bed at night and the light of comprehension dawned. Was this what happened to women when they were in love? Did this hectic fit torment all females from time to time, turning their bodies into fierce, craving beasts?
As she proceeded the wide hips began to lift and turn, almost smothering Carla as her nose was blocked by the downy mound. She buried her face in the folds of flesh and applied herself to the task with renewed determination, feeling her own body responding in sympathy to the woman’s mounting libido. Where she was heading she had no idea. All she knew was that the same force that drove Monna Livia on was the one she had felt, time and again.
Although she had no idea how long she had inhabited that sensual world of musk and juice and swelling, throbbing flesh, Carla became aware that her neck was cricked and her tongue was aching. Just as she was wondering how much longer her services were required Monna Livia gave a loud cry that, at first, she feared was one of pain. The woman was bucking her hips, her breasts were heaving and a red flush was spreading over her face and chest. Carla was about to get help, thinking perhaps she was ill, when she realised that something different was happening. The shuddering spasms that racked Monna Livia’s body were born not of suffering but of exquisite joy.
‘Oh, oh, oh!’ came the ecstatic cries. ‘Oh, how wonderful!’
‘Wonderful?’
Carla observed the trembling of her body with a strange detachment. Was she having one of those fits that Piero had when he spurted his seed? Her own body was hot and throbbing too, but she drew back not knowing quite what was expected of her and perched on the chest beside the bed once more.
Monna Livia flopped back onto the bed, utterly spent, and it was some time before her chest ceased to heave and her cheeks regained their normal pale hue. At last she opened her eyes and gave Carla a beatific smile.
‘Thank you, young sir. That was more than welcome. If only you knew what pleasure you brought me just then!’
‘I’m glad madonna is satisfied.’
‘Satisfied? Oh yes! You satisfied me as much, if not more, than my dear husband used to when we were in the first flush of our youth. But pack up your things now and be gone. If anyone were to come in and see us like this it would be disastrous for both of us.’
‘Am I to come again?’
Monna Livia gave a wicked chuckle, deep in her throat. ‘You can make me come again, any time you like!’ Seeing Carla’s incomprehension her expression grew sober and she continued in a more businesslike tone, ‘Yes, of course. I’ve arranged it with your master. The second sitting is in three days’ time. Clear away now then off you go, there’s a good lad.’
Carla left in a daze, hurrying back to Piero’s with her half-finished painting strapped to the easel. Three of the lads were on an errand and Marco was helping Giovanni, so Carla went straight to the bedroom. She set up her portrait and lay on her bed considering it while she took stock of what had happened at the Palazzo Bardarelli. The plump figure of Monna Livia in her goddess-like pose seemed to mock her as she recalled what had passed between them.
Most confusing of all was the realisation that, in a strange way, Carla had enjoyed what she had been obliged to do. At first she was afraid that, living amongst men, she had somehow absorbed their sexual preferences by constant exposure to their talk, and become a lover of other women. But she had only to think of Marco to realise that it was not so. Given the choice she would far rather have a man do those things to her!
So she came to regard what had happened as a kind of mutual celebration of womanhood. Although Monna Livia had taken her for a boy, secretly Carla had been identifying with the other woman in her blissful transports. Perhaps the invocation to Venus had worked, after all. And the experience had been educational too. The idea that women could enjoy the same kind of climactic pleasure as men had come as a striking revelation to Carla. Now her vague yearnings and fruitless arousal no longer seemed insatiable but full of potential. One day a man would do to her what she had done to Monna Livia, making her feel those same rapturous feelings. Would that her first true lover could be Marco!
Chapter Seven
CARLA ATTENDED THE second sitting with Monna Livia with some apprehension. She was pleased with the way the portrait was going, but uncertain how she was going to be received. Would that frustrated lady require the same service as last time? When she entered the woman’s bedchamber it was arranged as before, with the statue of Venus already garlanded and the room filled with the scent of roses and sandalwood.
‘I am ready for you,’ the lady smiled. Carla knew at once that she did not just mean ready to sit for her portrait. She had obviously been thinking about the last time. Her cheeks were already flushed and beneath the thin robe her dark nipples were stiffened into points. Carla felt her insides quail as she wondered whether Monna Livia would be content with more of the same, or whether she planned to go the whole way this time. If so, Carla would risk being exposed as a charlatan.
The sitting began with decorum, Monna Livia appearing to be the model of matronly dignity even though she was entirely naked. This time Carla endeavoured to present an idealised portrait of her patroness, disguising the marks of time and presenting her as a youthful goddess. She still had to be recognisable, however, and it took all Carla’s skill to achieve the right balance between her two objectives.
At last she allowed her sitter to rest while she took a long, hard look at her own handiwork. ‘I think I can put the finishing touches to my work on my own,’ she announced. ‘There is no need for you to model any longer, madonna.’
Carla was half hoping that she would be allowed to leave forthwith, but the noblewoman’s eyes sparkled lasciviously. ‘Oh good! Now we can have some fun!’
The moment Carla had been dreading was upon her. She put down her brush and walked over to the bed where Monna Livia was already arranging herself, patting the place beside her as she lay. ‘You served me very well last time, young sir. I hope you can please me as well again. If you do, there will be extra reward for you. Just for you, understand? I don’t want your master to hear of it.’
Carla hated the idea of being paid for her sexual services. It had already occurred to her that Piero was keeping her more as his whore than his apprentice, and the idea was distasteful. Now she was to be used in that way once again. Yet she was not in any position to object in either circumstance.
‘Come, let’s not be coy!’ Monna Livia put a finger beneath her chin and raised her face so that their eyes met. ‘You know what I am hungry for, and you know how to serve my appetite. Besides, I believe you enjoyed it last time. I saw how flushed your face was afterwards. No, don’t deny it! This time you shall see more of the action, I can promise you.’
The woman pulled Carla towards her and began to kiss her rapaciously on the mouth. Panic struck deep within her as she contemplated her words. What on earth did she mean by “more of the action”? It sounded ominous.
‘Rub my starving little pussy!’ Monna Livia commanded. ‘Make her sleek and happy, then you can slip more than just your finger inside me!’
Carla almost drew back in alarm at that, but stopped herself just in time. While she fingered the streaming wet vulva, feeling the nub that gave such pleasure grow hard and throbbing under her ministrations, her mind was racing to think of a way out of her dilemma. If she was expected to serve this woman as a man would serve her, then it was impossible.
‘Oh, I long to be filled!’ She heard her mistress moan. ‘Fill me up, little one, give me a good, thorough shafting I beg of you!’
‘I am shy,’ Carla said, her mind racing in desperation to find a way out. ‘And I hate others to see my organ. If you will agree to blindfold yourself I shall use it as you request.’
Monna Livia sat up in surprise. ‘Silly boy! Do you imagine you’re built differently from any other young man? I assure you I shall not be put off, whatever it looks like. My need is too great for me to be fussy. Besides, I’m sure yours is perfectly normal. Many men believe their organ to be small or mis-shapen through ignorance, when there is nothing wrong with it. Why don’t you show me?’ She grinned as she added, ‘I’ve seen quite a few to compare it to.’
But Carla shrank back from contact. ‘No, please! I – I will not be able to perform properly, and if you refuse to cover your eyes then I must decline to do you this service.’
The gentlewoman pouted. Evidently she was not used to being thwarted by servants. Suddenly Carla felt afraid. What if she ordered her to be whipped for some misdemeanour, or declared herself dissatisfied with the portrait out of spite? Aware of her own vulnerability, Carla desperately tried to think of another way out of her dilemma but no alternative plan came to mind.
‘Well, if you insist,’ Monna Livia said, suddenly. ‘Come on, I haven’t got all day. I’ll go off the boil if you keep me hanging on much longer. Hand me a scarf from that chest and bind it round my eyes, if that will please you. Hurry now!’
Carla slid off the bed and found a silken swathe in the heavy oak chest which she proceeded to tie around Monna Livia’s head. When she was convinced that she could no longer be seen she went over to the makeshift shrine of Venus and stole one of her candles.
‘If this doesn’t do the trick, nothing will!’ she told herself with a smile.
Soon she was preparing the woman for penetration by licking and
sucking her wet pussy, like last time. Monna Livia began to moan and groan, keeping up a continual noise as Carla went about her task. When she was convinced that her opening was large enough, she first put three of her bunched fingers inside and then straddled her thighs as if she were about to plunge her cock in.
‘Now I will come into you!’ she told her, trying to sound suitably enthusiastic. ‘Oh, what a wonderful prospect! You do me great honour, lady, by granting me this favour!’
‘No, it is you who are favouring me! Ooh, what a cold penis you have my dear! Never mind, I shall soon warm it up for you . . . Ah! Now I have it inside me, your little treasure. How very hard it is! I shall squeeze it tight and that will please both of us.’
‘Oh, oh yes!’ Carla declared, trying not to giggle as she manipulated the candle in and out. To make sure she gave satisfaction she caressed her breasts with one hand and stroked the bulging clitoris with the other. Monna Livia’s cries increased in frequency and intensity, her face growing quite pink as she approached her climax.
‘I’m learning a lot,’ Carla thought. ‘Now I know how I might be satisfied myself, if ever I get a chance to put theory into practice!’
A few more twists and thrusts of the candle had the woman bucking and shaking like a fevered animal, and Carla knew she had achieved her goal. Hastily she pulled out the candle and, on the pretext of needing the privy, hurried over to replace it. When she returned to the bed Monna Livia was lying there panting, the scarf torn from eyes which were regarding her unorthodox lover with dreamy vagueness.
‘You have nothing to worry about, my dear,’ she smiled. ‘Although your organ might not be as large as some, it is just as capable of bringing any woman pleasure I can promise you. You should be proud of the way God has made you, just as I am.’
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