The Bronze Crown. Stefano Vignaroli

and he already felt his own sex rising. But how could he satisfy in that place instincts that emerged in all their power?

      He called a trusted armiger, the one who in the absence of the lieutenant commanded his garrisons stationed in Mondavio, Captain of Arms Lorenzo Ubaldi.

      «Now that the trusted Baglioni is gone, I’d like to review the fortress to see what strength we have. Guide me, now, through the meanders and ramparts of the castle.»

      But the Duke’s intent was to be led into the dungeons, where he knew young women were also imprisoned. Therefore he was interested, but superficially, in the St. Barbara’s, the soldiers’ quarters, the arms yard and the guard walkways. Instead, he dwelt on a small study, which had belonged to his father, in the main body of the castle, where a solid wood desk dominated in the centre and three walls out of four were occupied by shelves full of books. Although it did not seem so, the Duke was still passionate about culture and literature, as well as art and architecture, and therefore decided in his heart that he would spend a good deal of time in that room. While he thought he could make it his personal study, another blaze from his lower abdomen reminded him of the urgency he had. He nodded his head to the soldier who was accompanying him and, still under his guidance, walked down the stairs, went out into the gun yard, passed by a modern gunpowder, stroking the cold metal barrel with his hand, then pointed to a vaulted opening closed by a mighty iron gate.

      «What's there?» he asked, pretending not to know.

      «The prisons, Excellency!»

      «I want to visit the prisoners. Do you have the keys to the locks?»

      «Yes, but I advise against it, Your Excellency. It’s not a pretty sight. Most of them are condemned to death and...»

      «I’ll decide what’s good and what’s bad for me!» he turned to his soldier, looking at him sideways, with a cross-eyed eye that he didn’t know which direction he was facing. «Open!»

      When he crossed the gate, he was met by the prison guard, a man with a hunched back, soaked teeth and pestilential breath. Attached to his waist, the bunch of keys used to open the cells. The two men accompanied Francesco Maria along a dark corridor, with a dirt floor, which went downhill to the basement of the fortress. Having reached a cavern illuminated by some torches, where the smell of excrement was unbearable, the Duke realized that the cells occupied by the prisoners were all on the same side, so that they could not see each other and could in no way communicate with each other.

      «What have they done?» he asked.

      The jailer approached the first cell and spat in the direction of the man in it.

      «He is a murderer. In the worst category. He killed his wife and wounded his daughter to death. He’ll end up hanging by a rope! I can’t wait to see him dangle.»

      The prisoner, at first, looked down, then, in a sudden fury, began to scream.

      «I didn’t do it! How can I tell you?»

      They moved on and, in short, the man shut up. In another cell there was a young girl, a girl who must have been about 14 years old. She had her arms chained to the wall and she was squatting on the floor. A filthy dress, which once must have been white, could not properly cover her breasts, which, though immature, overflowed from her untied neckline. Even her legs were completely uncovered. Dirty with dirt and mud. The jailer winked at the Duke.

      «She is a witch. She was caught in the woods picking herbs. We should hang her, or burn her at the stake, but we still wait for some priest from the Holy Inquisition to come here and give her a fair trial. We’ve had to chain her up, because we’re afraid that, thanks to some magic, she might escape by taking flight. But she’s good, and she’s learned my lessons well. Would you like to try, Your Excellency?»

      The henchman, caring nothing of his Lord’s lineage, elbowed the Duke, then tinkered with the padlocks and opened the bars of the cell. Then he freed the girl’s wrists too, slapped her with a loud slap and stared at her with a grim and threatening look.

      «You know your duty! Do it well and you’ll be safe this time too. The inquisitor will not come and your trial will be postponed.»

      Without even realizing it, Francesco Maria, he found himself alone in the cell with the young witch. Not that it pleased him too much, he felt disgusted to want to take advantage of such a young and defenceless girl. What if someone found out and told his wife Eleonora? But when he heard her stockings slipping off and noticed that the little witch had delicate skin and two lips that knew how to kiss his most sensitive points, he understood that her jailer had instructed her more than well. He allowed himself guided by the young woman, who after kissing him and stimulating him for a long time, brought his turgid sex inside her, until he reached the coveted intercourse. Francesco Maria enjoyed, as he had not enjoyed for so long, but he could not free his mind from a single thought: how to restore freedom to that poor girl?

      «What’s your name?» he asked her, still gasping for breath, beginning to caress her neck, making her kneel before him and guiding her so that her mouth approached his whitish liquid dripping sex.

      «Ubalda», replied the girl, beginning to lick his moods, and then welcoming the Duke’s member, who had regained strength and turgidity, between her lips.

      Francesco Maria let her do it for a long time, until he reached a second moment of pleasure. At that point he squeezed his hands around the witch’s neck. He heard her make a brief groan, then her young body, deprived of the possibility of taking on air, sagged, slowly collapsing on the ground floor. He had restored her freedom. Forever and ever.