The Ornaments of Love

By G. A. Dazio All Rights Reserved ©

Romance / Drama

Chapter Eighteen

It was the very worst of July. A blasting heat had penetrated every part of the house, and all moved as slowly as possible. The siesta became a day-long event, though hardly anyone could find a room cool enough to sleep well in. Even the sea breeze was of little comfort, merely keeping the hot, wet air moving. Perhaps, that was a blessing in itself? As the people of the house stayed to their rooms, not caring to dress in anything more than sheer nightgowns until dark, windows were shuttered and draped to prevent the sun’s radiance from growing the heat inside during the daytime.

Veronica could not remember a summer as impossible as this one, and after weeks of the heat intensifying each day, she resigned herself to the misery of it all, musing that she might very well have stayed in Madrid if the weather would impose such cruelty. Only the comfort of her correspondence with Dídac kept her spirits level. Not a day passed that she did not receive a letter of some sort from Dídac, and they varied from his usual short stories to poetry, and sometimes even more intimate letters of love.

Veronica would not be out-done by the boy. Her every written word to him must magnify their love even more, she thought. She wrote every day, her long tales of childhood dreams, and more often, she began to speak outright to him when his letters posed specific questions or topics that beckoned her answer. All of this brought about a sense of satisfaction that was intoxicating and highly addictive. She looked forward to each day. She rose with the sun now, long having cast off the days of sleeping until noon, when the house was still drunk after some long party; all of that was not possible with the heat of this month. And she preferred to write by the morning light that penetrated through the shuttered windows of her room. It provided her with an immense sense of satisfaction, and the weariness brought on by the wet heat could not dilute the sensation. And after the weeks since he had secretly proposed to her, she was still in love. Nothing, it seemed, could change this awareness. Yes, love, that is what it was.

It had been only a week or so after Marcelina and Veronica had last returned from the Villa Ferrero. They had gone on to spend a total of three days there. Her aunt and his father continued their discussions and eventually brought Dídac’s mother over into their private plot. The whole house was on the two lovers’ side when they left, and Marcelina had so quickly become sisters with Doña de Ferrero that the air of joy in the house rose to a level of outright celebration. And with their celebration, Don Joaquim and his wife proved impervious to waiting. They both turned to Dídac and insisted he reveal all of his private plans for the future.

The boy was naturally shocked when asked, and even more bewildered to find such a warm reception from his parents when he admitted that he’d follow his father’s enterprise of law. He would very much like to be enrolled in the proper studies, immediately.

When Dídac had felt that his future was secure, that his parents widely approved of the arrangement, he even went as far as to reveal that he had asked for Veronica’s hand in marriage, that he had given the girl a ring of engagement.

The very look upon his mother’s face was indescribable, a swirling and undefined mixture of awe, love, anger, joy, hatred and finally bewilderment. The woman had looked to the Marquesa for support at that moment, silently pleading for some explanation when one had already been given. And in the end, Doña de Ferrero was by far the happiest of all, eventually coming upon a profound sense of love for her son when she saw the ring, taken from her own chamber, as it lay over Veronica’s finger, a girl she had already begun thinking of as her daughter.

It was a magnificent moment for both families, and though, in reality, nothing could have been final until approval came from Veronica’s mother in Madrid. Both Marcelina and Francesca had written letters immediately to the woman, letters of love with such conviction that the woman sent word within two weeks that she would approve of the union purely on the grounds that her sister, the Marquesa, spoke with such high regard of the Ferrero family and their young man. She went out of her way to express her great joy for this blessing and extended an invitation for all of them to come back to Madrid with Veronica before the fall term began, if they could. Her final note made a specific and a very loving remark that the Ferreros were her family now and that she must be given the opportunity to love them as her sister did.

It would be an outright lie for Veronica to have said that she wasn’t completely shocked by her mother’s tone in the letter, but she’d long accepted that she did not really know her mother at all. Nothing of the woman should surprise her. And she awaited the first of September when all of them would journey to Madrid as one family with nothing less than unresolved urgency.

Veronica had every reason to view the month of July as a fairy tale, indeed, she could not have imagined one better herself.

And so, it was with an unprepared confusion that General de Flores had shown up one night at her room unannounced.


She heard him pass her door, as he always did, on his way to Marcelina’s suites. She had made note of it but had quickly dismissed the heavy movement as being nothing out of the ordinary. But within minutes, he had returned to the hall and knocked on her outer doors. The rattle of his hand striking the door caught her off guard. No one visited her after eleven o’clock except for the servants who must be rung for.

She had called quite simply without the slightest hesitation for her visitor to enter.

The General slipped in very casually without saying the slightest word. He was still dressed in his dining attire, the delicate black silk of his vest reflecting the dim light from the candles and oil lamps by her bed and secrétaire.

Though she should have been caught off guard by his presence, she could not help but notice how handsome the man was. Undoubtedly, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. He was not delicate like Dídac, with exquisite symmetry to the sharp bones of his face. Rather, the structure of his face was immense. He had a strong brooding forehead set upon dark wide brown eyes, his mouth firm, though in no way slight; indeed, it was full and sensuous. He was dark of skin, bronzed deeply, having no need of the Mediterranean sun to produce his burned olive complexion. This was distinctly a southern Spanish man.

His strong eastern cologne, the inescapable musk that had followed her for weeks after she had seen him emerge from her aunt’s bedroom chamber, drifted ahead of him, arriving at Veronica before he had so much as moved halfway across the room.

The fragrance sent her mind into a state of numbness. She drifted out of time with her visions of the man, as when he had once stood naked before her, the sunlight pouring down on his solid body, blazing in his silken black hair, causing it to ignite with an ethereal brilliance. All of these images raced through her mind as her body reacted against her will, her lungs filling with air that was full of his sweet scent.

Eduardo approached Veronica, not waiting for the slightest consent from her. He moved through the room as an apparition, floating soundlessly through her bedroom to where she sat at her secrétaire.

Veronica dealt with a slight hesitation for the shortest moment as her mind attempted to stop its drifting. She felt she must somehow answer him, condemn this perfect outrage that he had ventured so far into her domain while she was dressed only in a thin robe without the slightest consenting word from her, but she said nothing. Her silence became the consent he seemed hardly looking for as he came to her and lifted her hands with his own, gently pulling Veronica up from her seat, all of this as soundlessly as possible.

She knew what he meant to do with her, there wasn’t the slightest doubt in her mind what he wanted. And as she felt herself being led to the bed, it was all she could do to breathe in a comfortable pace.

Veronica did not resist him. She did not know how to resist, and she wouldn’t have if she’d known. She wanted this to happen to her, she wanted him to touch her. All of this encounter was observed through the most resigned and passive of eyes, as if she had always known that he would eventually come to her.

He removed her garments one by one with his dark and powerful hands. Veronica felt the last of them drop from her body in one deafening moment. And when she stood naked, he knelt down to the floor and slowly wrapped his hands around her ankles and calves, smoothly bringing them up along her legs and inner thighs, finding their way to curve up around her hips and to her waist. She could feel his breath upon her skin, and goose flesh rose in spite of the hot night. Rising from his crouched position, Eduardo let his hands continue up to the small of her back, then stood up fully to pull her to him, crushing her breasts against the hard softness of his clothes.

He kissed her slowly at first and then gave way to a hard and ravenous consumption of her mouth. He drew the very breath out of her! When he was finally able to pull himself away from her mouth, he took her hands again and placed them on his chest, on the fabric of his coat and vest, the dark ebony velvet and silk that he helped her hands to remove from his body.

She was captured by this behavior, the undressing of this man. She removed his coat, casting it gently on the bed along with his vest and dress shirt. The great hardness of his chest was fascinating to her, the way the skin remained so soft, like a child. And yet, as she lay her hands against it, she could unmistakably feel the great power that the muscles underneath exuded when they moved, his chest and stomach writhing like the ripples on a pond.

Eduardo was dark everywhere. That deep walnut hue mingled in her mind with his musk until they became one, and the color of the scent was the same as his chest. She kissed it, his hard chest that moved in response to the touch of her lips, seemingly against his will. She loved that she could make his body react in this way, that she could produce such feeling in someone else; she loved that she could do it to him too.

Her hands touched all over his chest, as did her lips. She ran her fingers over every line, past every curve, pushing in now and then to reassure her hands of his firmness, the power in his arms, the vein that ran up them vertically, denting the skin outward.

The nipples were encircled with deep auburn aureoles, colored even richer by his burned caramel skin. She was drawn to them, letting her fingers played there before she was compelled to feel them, eventually allowing her lips to kiss them. After moments, they were little rocks and she could see by the movement in his whole body that he enjoyed the attention she gave them, the way she teased him there.

Without the slightest hint from Eduardo, Veronica laid her hands on his breeches, feeling the full mound of flesh hidden underneath his breeches. She unfastened them in a burst of hurried frenzy, catching his attention, his hands slowing her movements to a less dangerous pace.

She let the breeches and undergarments fall to the floor when they were completely unfastened, leaving his heavy flesh waving from side to side as it fell. It was even more incomprehensible now as she drew down to her knees, naturally, to face it. She almost didn’t want to touch it yet. A slight sensation of fear gripped her ambition. But she moved her mouth so that she could touch her lips to the hard, flat area between his stomach and the small, dark nest of hair.

The breaths Veronica took then were full, as her heart drummed faster, her entire body in perfect tune with his. His musk seemed amplified in the dark hair above his cock, changing slightly in its intensity, becoming almost a delicious taste as she drew her face closer to breathe it fully.

She felt herself becoming far gone with the warmth of him, and her hands instinctively moved to grasp his cock, shocking her with its lovely heat. He was on fire, and his manhood seemed to move of its own accord in her hands, fattening, lengthening, and hardening, so much so that it eventually rose up and out at her. The veins that wrapped around and up along the bottom of it protruded out against the delicate skin.

She held his cock then in both hands, feeling it continue to swell more and more, seemingly forever, and she stroked the sheath of skin, which was drawing tighter and tighter over the shaft, back and forth over the length of it. She was focused on this incredible instrument with an intense solemnity and passion. It’s incredible, almost ridiculous size fascinated the girl, and she pushed it up against his abdomen to see that it now measured long enough to reach past his navel. It was like some sort of wild animal, a beast that somehow belonged to his body but was separate and alive of its own accord.

Without thinking, she kissed it, kissed the head, now engorged in a triumphal posture. She kissed up and down the length of the shaft, continuing to stroke it firmly as his hands wrapped around hers to demonstrate.

She brought her mouth to the scrotum, which delighted her most of all. It was like the softest, most perfect skin in the world. And it was alive, as alive as his cock! The orbs it carried moved of their own accord, shifting in and out of her grasp as she gently handled them.

She kissed his scrotum lavishly, eventually drawing the balls into her mouth where her tongue played with them, jiggling them from side to side as she stretched the smooth, thin sack to its limit. All of this produced a pleasing grunt from him, that sound the finest recognition she had ever received. It was the first sound his body had made since he’d walked into her room, and with it she grew even more excited.

Returning the distance up to his cock, she handled him all the more fiercely, stroking him with greater strength, feeling the organ hidden under the glove of skin as it stood firm, and his moaning continued like a low rumble in his diaphragm. She brushed her moist lips against the shaft of his cock, all the way to the large, proud head, which her tongue bathed completely. She lapped at it slowly and teased him, then finally drawing the head inside her mouth and drenching it with a pleasure that sent him to the very threshold of madness.

She loved it, the delicious salty taste of this delicate skin, sheathing an iron hardness underneath. The girth of his head and shaft were such that she must strain her jaw past its very limits to open for him, and her teeth scraped him slightly. Veronica drew him in deeper now, prompted by the gentlest nudge from his thrust, sending him to the very rear of her mouth. Were it any further in, she would have choked, but she didn’t. She used her hands cleverly on his thighs to control his whole body and the length she would take in.

His cock drew in and out of her mouth more and more passionately, the slight brush of her teeth against him driving him to a deeper madness of pleasure. She could feel it was true, like an electric current running from his body into her, his primary receptor nudging more and more against the back of her throat.

Everything Marcelina had described to her seemed so natural then as she made him insane, and it was a triumph for the girl that she had this gift to manipulate him so completely.

And with one final slide, she released him, rising to her feet and backing toward the bed. She lay down, unashamed, spreading her legs to hint at what she wanted from him in return.

He fell with his stomach on the bed, his head drawing up between her legs, and he stopped to simply stare at her with his mouth slightly open, his hot breath rushing along her light down, sending absolute shivers through her loins. She had to move her lower body slightly to fight off the invading sensation.

He drew his mouth closer to her small nether lips, stopping as close as he could there, waiting as long as possible for her to draw that mound of flesh up to his face. His eyes stared up at Veronica, wrought in a maddened frenzy of anticipation. And when it was too much for her nerves to handle, she thrust her loins up to meet his lips, and his eyes closed as he took to ravishing her, his small sweet kisses teasing her before his tongue took to lavishing his passions inside her.

His tongue dove deep inside her, bathing her thoroughly until he had explored every part of her that he wanted to know. He set about lapping fiercely at her clitoris, teasing it with his tongue, now and then halting the pace to give her a moment to slow her heartbeat while he let the delicious coarseness of his tongue clean her dry.

Veronica was soon engorged thoroughly, the lips red and full, as he started in on her one last time with a ceaseless ambition to his lapping, generating an amazing tingling in that entire area of her body, sending her into tiny little spurts of climax. She had not really remembered this sensation until then. She knew that it existed, indeed, she remembered how she had entered into this state of magnified pleasure, the focus of it, but she had not truly remembered the sensation Father Mateu had brought in her, the dynamics. And it was indescribable once again.

It had seemed he would not stop for anything; his ravenous hunger was insatiable. Just when she thought he would give out, he intensified his consumption of her, that fantastic lapping at her hard little lump of flesh. The magnificent tingling sent her higher and higher to the ceiling of pleasure, bringing her as close as possible to that loss of control where the tingling would give way to the burning heat that leapt from her loins out to the corners of her body, a searing fire invading her very fingertips.

The heat settled like a delicate mist over Veronica and grew to a lovely warmth. But his mouth would not stop now, and he brought his large hands underneath her buttocks, holding her up as his mouth ventured down, seeking that other little orifice, the now slacken and relaxed anus, which, without hesitation, he commenced to bathe as lavishly as her sex, teasing her with a wicked little pleasure she had not expected. But before she could truly explore this sensation, he was satisfied with this concentrated act and his tongue took two long stroking laps, starting from her anus and working up to her clitoris, indeed, like a lion with its captured prey. He cleaned her thoroughly. He seemed to do everything thoroughly, focusing on this act or another, all of them seeming as if they might be pleasing him more than her.

He released his firm grip on her buttocks and used his hands now to spread her lips and intensely stroke her clitoris with his tongue. She thought it would be too much for her, that something bad might result of all this ferocious attention. She felt the climax traveling its way to Heaven again, and at the most perfect moment, his finger slid effortlessly into her. She immediately came with the most unexpected and wrenching spasms that lasted forever. And when the long eternity of pleasure was at its most exquisite triumph, the tingling took over, fluctuating within her with what felt like a permanent state of existence.

Veronica’s breath released. It seemed she had held on to this breath since she was born. Her eyes opened painfully to realize it was still the same night and that he was still with her. Indeed, he was still with her and he rose now off the bed, backing up to stand at the foot of the bed frame. He reached down to pull her whole body closer to him, her head falling off the pillow as her bottom was positioned for him to penetrate her with his massive sex.

When she saw his Goliath horn again, she bit her lip, realizing that this would all be a mistake, for he was far too big for her. What was once a rather awesome novelty quickly became a mild horror for her as he nudged at her red lips with its engorged head.

She would not let it in, the very idea was ridiculous. No, she would not let it happen. But with a mild frustration he thrust harder and the head of his cock slid in but a thumb’s length.

The mere head of his cock was too much for her to endure. It was too wide and Veronica grit her teeth from the pain.

Eduardo slapped her buttocks hard, and for a moment she clenched and released the muscles of her sex as he thrust hard once again at that crucial moment, sliding his cock in much deeper before she could stop him.

He had invaded her in the most unimaginable way, it seemed she might explode, the walls of her sex stretching beyond their limits now, and she knew that to make the slightest resistance might cause her damage. But she could somehow not breathe a word of warning, and still he carried on.

Satisfied that he was succeeding with her, Eduardo pulled out slightly then thrusted forth again, trying to enter her deeper and deeper, though for a long time he could only penetrate to half the length of his organ.

This was torture. Veronica felt tears welling up in her eyes and the terrible sensation of the water slowly falling down the side of her face. This was, for Veronica, the ultimate shame. But he had not seen these tears. In fact, he had not once looked to her face since he had started in on her. He saw nothing but his own organ and the length of it left in the cold outside of her body. There was the slight hint of impatience in his frenzied expression, almost anger that she wouldn’t let him in further.

And with a slight shift of his direction, he gave one final thrust that assaulted her physical limit. A hideous scream let out of her.

This was no mistakable sound, this scream. It was the deep-throated, anguished cry of a wounded animal. She trembled with this sound as it poured out from her soul, resonating against the walls of her bedroom. This was pain, the whole of it; the girth of his organ, threatening to tear her. The darkness of fear consumed her vision and Veronica knew that she must do something now to escape this nightmare.

Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled out of her, his body responding before his mind could make an assessment of this situation that existed outside the haze of his lust. The sound of her scream had startled him. Indeed, he was horrified. Veronica somehow became aware of the bewildered look of amazement that he stared down at her with.

Someone pounded against the outer doors to her suite, rattling it fiercely so that the General shot his eyes in the direction of the sound in slight anger. Or was it confusion? Veronica could hear through the closed inner doors that someone had entered her drawing room and was racing across the wooden beams of the floor to the bedroom doors.

A fist knocked hard against the doors as the General stood there, still very much erect. A voice of utter authority raged through, “Señorita, are you all right!? May I enter? Señorita!”

It was the voice of a footman, and his deep basso’s voice raged with concern.

Veronica had no account of the time now. She entered back into that dimension where she was safe and it seemed she could not make a sound.

Again, the pounding came in torrents of rattling, threatening to tear the doors from their hinges by the violent energy of the footman’s strength. “Señorita Fernández, are you all right?”

The haze of her delirium lifted for one confused moment and she yelled out a simple “No!” as passionately as she could. She understood that he had asked her if she was all right, but her mind hadn’t even begun to process that question yet when she’d responded to his first question as to whether or not he might enter her room. But in an instant, it was too late.

The doors flew open, crashing against the very walls. The footman entered, gasping in horror at what he saw: the young girl with tear-stained cheeks, naked on her back, the slight trace of blood staining the bedsheet beneath her, and the General standing back in anger, naked, his organ still monstrously erect.

The footman, who realized that the General had forced her, that he had stolen the girl’s virtue, and worse, injured her, turned a scarlet color of pure animalistic rage. With the snarl of a mad beast, he drew his sword out to point at the General’s chest. “Stand back!” he roared.

The General moved back with unconscious fear of the man. It seemed he could not find his mental bearing, and the sight of this warrior before him had sent him into a panicked confusion.

Veronica could barely move, she seemed not to be breathing at all as two more men charged the room. One of them, the captain of the footmen, drew his pistol on General de Flores without taking any other assessment but his own man’s sword drawn in pointed rage.

The third footman, seeing that the intruder had been successfully held at bay, turned to Veronica in protective concern and pulled a large shawl from off a chair in the corner to cover the girl with. He wrapped the shawl completely around her and scooped her up in his arms, not uttering a word to verify that she was hurt but carried her quickly through the room. He moved with the girl swiftly out into the hallway, where the commotion had brought a maid preparing for bed to gaze in sheer bewilderment at the sight.

“Here, follow me now!” the footman whispered loudly to the maid, rushing down the hallway to the Marquesa. “Open the door!” he commanded anxiously when they stood before her suite.

The tiny woman knocked in spite of herself and opened the outer doors to let the footman pass in with the girl in his arms.

“Fetch the Marquesa,” he said, walking over to the sitting area, gently laying down the petrified Veronica on the empty sofa. The maid knocked with trepidation upon the Marquesa’s bedchamber doors, sensing the urgency of the situation from the footman’s tone.

Marcelina called to the door for the maid to enter and was quickly up and out within seconds.

The footman walked over to both women and aggressively pulled the maid by her arm over to where Veronica lay. “Take care of her, now!” he hissed in her ear and turned to his mistress, raising his voice with an authoritative gesture, “Come at once, my lady, there is an emergency.”

In shock and confusion, the Marquesa only glanced at Veronica before she followed her man back to the girl’s chambers. They found General de Flores naked, still held at bay by the captain and his man, the sword still drawn and advancing perilously close to the General’s throat.

“Answer me!” the captain roared.

“What has happened here?” Marcelina uttered in terror, the sight of Eduardo’s defenselessness evoking one of the greatest senses of fear she had ever known.

“Marcelina, send them out,” said the General with a defeated whisper, “I will explain!”

The swordsman instinctively raised his lance back up to the man’s neck for silence. He had not even realized that the Marquesa had entered the room.

“Draw back this instant!” she screamed. “Get out! Get out, damn you! Leave!”

“Marquesa!” the captain cackled with an unbelieving shock.

Marcelina used her own body to pull back the swordsman. “Get out this instant, I said!”

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