The Prince of the Papal state.

The Prince of the Papal states

Authors Note: So my late story which is still up makes me want to repeatedly be sick. The grammar, the editing, the spelling, the plot holes, everything was incredibly wrong and I don’t apologise for it because it was roughly 3 years ago. I was younger, new to wattpad and writing and just experimenting. After so long I’m back with a new story I stared a while ago on a different account, but never developed further than one chapter…oops. So I decided to make use of this account and the amount of followers I have to try writing again! It’s been a while but I’ve definitely improved. Once again editing is not perfect, but I’m struggling to find an editor I can trust so you’ll all just have to deal with it for now :P but do let me know of any obvious mistakes I may have missed. I HAVE done some historical research, but not pages worth, just certain events, names, traditions and words etc., and the story follows historical events but is tailored to suit my plot, so don’t get prissy historical junkies! ENJOY (Oh yeah and don’t steal copyrighted obviously.)

 

Prologue

Rome, Italy 1471

Cecilia Gavino

“Listen ‘ere you bloody whore, ‘ye job is to lift up ‘ye smock, not mouth of to a paying man.” The unknown male said, his grimy saliva landing in splatters across the poor girls face, she grimaced in disgust, cringing from the smell of his rotting gums.

“I must admit my job is indeed to pleasure you, but do enlighten me ‘sir’ as to how I can do that if there’s nothing to pleasure,” she bit back with a heavy snarl. The grimace that appeared on his face showed that his pride had evidently taken a heavy hit; he simply growled in return and quickened the pace of his thrusts. She bit her lip in an unsuccessful attempt to rail in any sounds which may have given him the satisfaction of knowing she was in pain, and mentally berated herself for the small squeak that left her mouth.

“Nothing to pleasure ‘ay, will see ‘bout that ‘me lady’.” He uttered with a mock curtsey of the head. With no clever comeback the girl turned her head to face the stone wall, his mocking had slithered its way into her heart and left a bitter taste in her mouth. There was certainly nothing lady like about Cecilia, and the knowledge of it hurt her, for she knew if her mother could see her now - the disappointment in her daughters way of life would weaken her heart.

As the man neared his much awaited release he became slightly rougher with Cecilia. It was a bitter sweet moment for her, sweet because it meant she could soon be done with the task at hand and escape the grip of his callous hands, but also bitter, because it was one more man who she had unwillingly - but none the less allowed to plant his seed in her.

Cecilia’s eyes closed on their own accord as she began to count, a trick she was taught by one of ‘sisters’, when time seemed to be passing unbearably slow – which it always did, she would count from one to ten and normally by then the job was done.

“One, two, three…” she recited, staring up at the blank midnight sky; no stars, she thought. She winced; groans of pain which may have been mistaken for pleasure left her lips. His grunts got louder as did her counting, in hopes to block out the sound of his pleasure, and make it seem as if he wasn’t there – but she knew he would always remain with her, like all the others did.

10.

“God forgive me.” she whispered, clutching onto the one gold coin the man had dropped like trash beside her and sighed in relief as she heard the shuffle of his footsteps slink away into the dirty slum streets of Rome.

Cecilia rose to her feet hitching the bottom of her skirt, enough so her feet could move freely as she ran through the pigeon infested streets. The last man had taken much of her time, meaning she had stayed out longer than she had meant to, placing her in a precarious position.