by AJ Llewellyn
“My special friend…” Geovanna’s gaze dropped to the ground, “Baldovino, my benefactor seems to have tired of me. He seems to want the real thing now, a real boy, not a woman masquerading as one.”
Caprice didn’t hesitate to calm her friend’s fears. “It is illegal for him to be with a man. Geovanna, he is quite intoxicated by you.” She paused. “You are still living on his property, are you not?”
It was the custom in the homes of cheating Venetian nobility for the mistresses of men to have a small apartment somewhere on the grounds of their estates. She had supported Geovanna’s move to her lover’s home, even if she had just a tiny apartment above the horse stables.
Geovanna rarely named her lover since he was powerful and important. He not only brought rare and exotic foods to Venice, he was now a local magistrate. Caprice secretly thought Baldovino hideous. He once told Geovanna she looked like one of his prized horses, a fact which drove Geovanna to tears.
Caprice had understood Geovanna’s desire to be the lover of her magistrate’s dreams, but Caprice was the one who smuggled her to the small private hospital with her own money when Geovanna had contracted venerea.
At the time, neither friend spoke the obvious, that he was evidently seeing others on the side. Now, it was something Geovanna would have to face. He was a canny one, the equine magistrate. He kept his love affairs close to the vest or in his case, close to the cock, but it pained Caprice to see her friend so grievously hurt by his straying affections.
“Oh, yes, I am still there and he comes to me at night, but he is frankly quite brutal with me now.” Geovanna’s jeweled fingers loosened the fichu around her neck. “He has not said he doesn’t want me, but a woman knows these things, Caprice.”
Caprice leaned forward. “What are those red spots at your throat?” she asked.
“It is the heat. It is nothing, but a rash.”
Caprice wanted to question her, but her attention was taken by a blond man who mysteriously appeared beside her.
“Good evening, Caprice,” he said. “I’ve been longing to meet you.”
* * * *
They moved through the streets like wraiths. They moved faster than he ever had on foot and Marcello started to feel like an Olympic runner, and yet their feet didn’t touch the ground. He imagined this was how the great athletes felt, possessed of super human powers. He was aware of Philippe-Auguste’s heartbeat in his head and wondered how this was possible. Was it just his imagination?
Overwhelmed by his conflicting feelings for his French conqueror, Marcello had no time to analyze his thoughts. He worried about Caprice whose beauty was only stronger now due to her transformation. He felt her stirring inside him, too, and then, Philippe-Auguste was tugging at his shoulder.
On the outskirts of the sestieri, the district of Castello, Marcello took a deep breath and yet he felt no muscle aches, no tiredness. He felt alive and free. In the shadows of the dark night, he followed Philippe-Auguste to the Corte Botera, a secret courtyard below street level. They were on the verge of nothing here when Philippe-Auguste’s fingers found the stone runes embedded in the walls of the ancient maze of streets. Philippe-Auguste turned to him and Marcello closed his eyes as his lover took his face in his hands and kissed him.
“We will bring him home,” Philippe-Auguste said, biting gently on Marcello’s bottom lip.
Marcello had no doubt of this, his senses swaying toward complete and sudden need for this man. Then he heard the muted screaming, the faint cries and Philippe-Auguste ran forward.
“Stay with me,” he called over his shoulder, his long black cape flying as he took the long stairs down to the dank courtyard.
The noise level was deafening and as long as he lived, he would never forget the horror of what he saw next. A group of men crowded around a bear. It was not a large bear, but somebody removed his teeth, apparently recently since his mouth bled profusely. The group tied down the animal to two posts in the center of the courtyard as two wild dogs tore him to pieces. The bear, tied hard and tight and without its teeth, was unable to defend itself. He was unable to prevent the relentless and brutal attack. One of the dogs bit off the poor creature’s remaining ear and the bear, blood streaming from its torn mouth and nose, bellowed into the sky. The sound was that of a baby screaming. Its eyes flew open, meeting Marcello’s, its agonized helplessness tearing at him. Half the ruined, beautiful creature’s nose dangled from its face and the bear wept again as the dogs attacked him once more.
All around this scene of grim carnage, Marcello saw men throwing money at a man racing around collecting coins.
He was shocked to see his own brother there and suddenly the bear could take no more and reared up, landing awkwardly on one of the dogs. The bear’s sheer size killed the dog outright. The sound of its neck breaking sent shivers down Marcello’s spine.
“No!” Massimo screamed and in his frenzy, glanced up to find his horrified twin staring at him.
The bear-baiting, which Marcello had only ever heard about was officially over. The remaining rabid dog bit and barked at the bear, which lay collapsed on the rigid dog beneath him.
Marcello reached out a hand and touched the coarse fur. The bear twitched and he glanced at Philippe-Auguste beseechingly. Philippe-Auguste touched the bear’s head as somebody scooped up the remaining wild dog, still drooling and snapping at everything in sight.
The bear took one last breath, its life force leaving him. Marcello’s mouth opened in awe as he saw the spirit of the animal, its silver soul leaving its body. The bear glanced at them he imagined, in gratitude and loped away. Marcello was pleased to see the splendid animal was intact in death, unlike the rag of fur and bones left behind in the courtyard.
“It wasn’t supposed to die,” he heard someone saying. “It should have been good for another couple of years. Damned fools. They let the fight go on too long.”
He was shocked to hear these words from his brother. He stood now and faced Massimo. “How could you condone this?”
“I don’t condone it. I just want to win. I won a lot of money on the last fight.” Massimo ran his hand through his hair. “I just lost it all when the bear rolled over on the stupid dog.” He glanced at Philippe-Auguste. “What’s he doing here?” his gaze returned to Marcello. “And I see you’ve returned to us. You look better than the last time I saw you.”
Marcello opened his mouth to respond, but in his belly, an explosion of panic consumed him.
“It’s Caprice,” he whispered, seeing the blond man, who almost killed him, chasing her. “He is going to kill her.”
* * * *
In a darkened column on the southern edge of the darkened Piazza San Marco, Caprice hid as the blond man she knew now was a vampire, chased and taunted her. He hissed his name…Tay-iss, it sounded like. She heard his accent. Greek. He was an aristocrat, but he meant to harm her.
“Here I am,” he whispered repeatedly.
Now she saw him. Now, she didn’t. Some instinct told her not to go home. In her home, he could corner her. Out in the open, she felt she could run.
He was back now and she wished she was home, in the safety of her bedroom. She closed her eyes, his horrible, foul breath on her face and suddenly, she was gone. When she opened her eyes, she was exactly where she’d wished, where she’d willed herself to be and a few seconds later, her three men were with her.
“My love!” Philippe-Auguste stepped forward and took her in his arms. He kissed her fears, assuaged her anxiety. Massimo seemed stunned as his twin and the Frenchman covered her face with kisses. She reached for Massimo, more relieved than anything that he was okay.
She kissed him and his hands stroked her pale face.
He started to say something, but she was excited now.
“I can’t believe it,” she told Philippe-Auguste. “That man…”
“Thais,” he said, pronouncing it the way she’d heard it. Tay-iss.
“He was on me and I wished to be here and the
n…and then…here I was!”
Philippe-Auguste laughed. “You have such powers now,” he said, putting a possessive arm around her waist.
“What’s going on here?” Massimo asked. “What is he doing here?”
“He’s our lover,” Caprice said defiantly.
Massimo stared at her in disbelief. “What has happened to you?” Massimo turned on his brother. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.”
“He saved my life. And…and I love him.”
“You…love him?” Massimo tore from the room, the others following him as he ran down the stairs. At the very bottom, Philippe-Auguste pinned him against the wall and put his hand to his throat.
“Join us…be with us.”
“No,” Massimo said, his eyes wide with fear. Marcello and Caprice watched as their lover seduced their fourth.
“God…no,” Massimo said as Philippe-Auguste kissed him.
Caprice smiled. She loved watching the way Philippe-Auguste took command of the men who’d consumed her days and nights.
Philippe-Auguste fumbled inside Massimo’s hose and pulled at his cock. Massimo resisted him and Philippe-Auguste continued to rub the thickening shaft inside the hose. Caprice was shocked at the way Massimo leaned against the wall, as if weakened by the Frenchman’s touch.
“Your cock loves me. See how hard it becomes under my touch?”
“Yes, the traitor!” Massimo gasped. “It’s already leaking for you.”
Caprice and Marcello exchanged looks. “You bedded him already?” Marcello asked, furious, but Philippe-Auguste either ignored him or didn’t hear him. He turned Massimo around, his face against the wall, his tongue working on Massimo’s ass crack through the hose.
Massimo moaned as Philippe-Auguste licked him and rubbed himself against his ardent French lover.
“God help me,” he mumbled. He shocked Caprice by begging for Philippe-Auguste tongue on his skin, but Philippe-Auguste zeroed in on Massimo’s sweet hole through the thick hose. He slid them down finally, his tongue finding that hot little hole as Massimo braced himself against the wall.
Philippe-Auguste licked and sucked him, Massimo’s ass jutted out as Philippe-Auguste kept sucking at him. Massimo opened his legs slightly, one hand moving back to his ass cheeks to give Philippe-Auguste better access. His cock was leaking, dripping, as Philippe-Auguste soon found when his hand moved to it. He slipped to the floor and Massimo mounted his face, riding it, feeding Philippe-Auguste that hard, hungry shaft.
Marcello turned to Caprice who hurled herself in his arms.
“Your mouth is so hot,” Massimo screamed out.
As Marcello sucked at first one nipple through the low cut opening of her gown, then the other, she watched Massimo feeding Philippe-Auguste, then taking the cock away. She loved the way Philippe-Auguste controlled him finally by holding Massimo’s ass in his hands.
“I love it when you control me,” Marcello whispered in her ear, his hands lifting her dress over her head. Massimo said the same thing to Philippe-Auguste, who groaned as Massimo fucked his face.
When Massimo took that cock from him, Philippe-Auguste grabbed onto one of his balls with his greedy mouth and Massimo hissed.
Caprice watched as Massimo fed Philippe-Auguste his balls and she adored the way Philippe-Auguste sucked them until in a haze of passion, Massimo stuck his thickened, rigid cock straight down Philippe-Auguste’s throat.
She took Marcello’s hose, dropping to her knees on the staircase, suckling at his balls and cock.
“Oh, Caprice, I love you,” he said. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Philippe-Auguste continue to suck Massimo’s cock.
Massimo was watching his cock disappear down Philippe-Auguste’s throat and then he took it away from him.
Philippe-Auguste flipped over then, placing Massimo on his back on the marble floor. Massimo scrabbled with clutching fingers at Philippe-Auguste’s back, begging for closer contact as Marcello had done.
“Open your legs, my little Italian whore,” Philippe-Auguste said.
Caprice had never heard anything sexier said in her life.
Suddenly, Marcello switched her around, popped her on a step and opened her things, his mouth connecting with her little cherry.
“That’s it, suck her,” Philippe-Auguste shouted as he prepared to fuck Massimo on the ground. He entered Massimo, after preparing him briefly, with his tongue.
Massimo begged Philippe-Auguste for the cock and he obliged, entering him quickly, fucking him hard.
Massimo’s knees pushed back to his chest.
Caprice came as she watched Philippe-Auguste fucking the man she loved with relentless, assured strokes.
She watched Massimo’s head turn, his neck in readiness for the sensual taking.
“My God,” Marcello said, rising from beneath his woman’s heavy gown. “He’s already one of us.”
“Oh yes,” Philippe-Auguste purred. “He’s been mine for months. Do you want my cock?” he asked Massimo.
“Yes, yes,” Massimo almost wept with delirium. “You’ve made me wait so long.”
Marcello took Caprice by the hand and led her to their room as Philippe-Auguste came inside Massimo’s wanting ass.
“I think he would like to come with your mouth on him,” Philippe-Auguste told her. She ran down the stairs, claiming the cock she adored and Massimo convulsed in her throat as Philippe-Auguste stroked her head.
“How beautiful you are, both of you.”
All four of them returned to the bedroom upstairs and Caprice marveled at the banquet of pleasure, the non-stop parade of peaks and more peaks. At one point, she had Philippe-Auguste’s cock inside her grasping pussy, Massimo’s tongue on her ass and Marcello feeding her his cock.
She found the pleasure so intense she thought she was drowning. When they fell asleep with arms and legs entangled, she heard a distant clanging of bells and recognized them as being the gravedigger’s bells. Something tore at her chest. She raised herself from the fog of sleep, and naked, moved toward the window.
Across the square, she saw the doctor and the gravedigger at the little apartment Geovanna lived in over the stables of Baldovino’s home. The hawk-like mask turned and stared at her, unblinking. She saw the women in their night attire, holding lit candles high and knew in that moment that the red spots she’d seen on Geovanna had not been a rash.
Her best and only female friend had the plague.
Chapter Eight
Massimo stood in the doorway and watched as Caprice painted. Her back was ramrod straight, her posture closed and standoffish. A clear message of Don’t come near me. Don’t try to make me feel better. Don’t try to offer me comfort, because there is none to be had.
He still couldn’t believe that she was that upset over Geovanna, of all people. In his opinion, the simpering, dense female had always been an annoying distraction, something else to divert Caprice’s attention away from where it should be—on him.
Walking slowly up to her, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you come back to bed with me? The sun will rise soon and I want to enjoy you in my arms during our day sleep.”
“Not until I’m finished with this painting,” she replied.
Although her voice was as smooth and husky as ever, he could tell by the furrow of her brow that she had her mind made up and no amount of argument would sway her. Stubborn woman. It was a lucky thing he loved her so or he could quickly become sick of that fault.
With a heavy sigh, he flopped into a nearby tapestry chair and gave the easel a jaded glance. The painting was of Geovanna. She was nude and on her side with an almost heavenly glow around her. Massimo fought to keep his expression blank of any disgust. He’d never understood what Geovanna’s benefactor saw in her. With her long face and large nose, she almost resembled a horse.
Of course, he would never tell Caprice that. No, she was fiercely protective of the other woman and the last thing he wanted was to be on Caprice’s bad si
de.
“Very beautiful work.” He laid on the charm. Anything to get Caprice back into bed before the other two came back from feeding. It had been too long since he’d had her sweet pussy all to himself.
“Thank you,” Caprice murmured as she put down her brush and lifted paint-stained fingers to touch the picture’s face. “I should go to her.”
“You know you can’t do that,” Massimo sat up straight with a start, alarm racing through his body. “She’s been taken to Isola del Lazzaretto Nuovo and no one is allowed there for fear of spreading the infection further.”
“Please, Massimo.” Her beautiful full lips curved up into a smile although it never reached her sad eyes. “It’s not like I can catch it. You heard Philippe-Auguste, vampires are immune to all human ailments.”
“You still can’t go. If you were to get caught there, then there will be all kinds of problems.” He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip as he thought of a good way to get her to see his side. “You know the rumors that are going around about how it’s vampires who are making the victims sick. The last thing any of us needs is for you to be caught lurking around the hospital. It will raise too many questions.”
“Massimo!” She twisted in her seat so she could direct all her fury on him.
He hated how he squirmed under that gaze. “It’s true though, love.” He got back up, walked over to her and brushed a lock of her soft hair off her shoulder. “I care for Geovanna, too, but it won’t do anybody good if you go and get yourself killed.”
“She is my friend and like a sister to me.” Her chin tilted up defiantly. “If it were me, she would be there.”
Not good, it would seem nothing is going to dissuade her. I’ll just have to take care of this matter, once and for all. “Would you be satisfied if I went to see her instead?” he asked, being very careful to sound as if the idea had just popped into his head.