With confidence and routine haste, the man strode in silence through the dark yard. It was unwise to some, but each scheduled morning he strode from whatever hotel room he had been staying in through the week to the Cardinal Richelieu’s domain where Rochefort would remain for the rest of his day to fulfill his duties as the Prime Minister’s select aide.
Alone, there was substandard and inactive ambiance around him to accompany the solo footfalls of his fast pace atop the cobblestones. Though, it was dark and he knew the way, it still felt as if he was blind whilst walking forward in the dark of the deep morning. Besides, it would likely be clear and light within twenty minutes.
Yet, through the dark tail of the night you could not see the paleness of Rochefort’s face, nor the fine reflections in his boots, let alone make out any details of his fine fawn doublet. His mass did not cast any shadows, merely continued forwards through it and the cold wet air which forced him to grimace too often for his composed liking.
From across the yard, he could see the red smocks of the Cardinal’s guards posted at the gate, and then again at the inner doors to the actual building. By this time, just as promised, the sky was purging the dark indigo from it’s face and being quickly overcome with a twilight perhaps at the very limit of cerulean.
They stood aloof, seeing their superior approaching and yet continuing to wipe at their boots or lean unwillingly in the dead of the morning. Rochefort was never a hard personality among colleagues, though; So his presence was not dreaded.
As he passed they exchanged pleasantries, and Rochefort set off again at his quick pace. What followed instantaneously was the dusty clap of the right guard’s glove while it replaced its position on the pole of the gate, complete with the tiny imperfections in the metal which came from months of others doing much the same; His twin in the same red guard’s smock waved excitedly to the middle aged man in his passing.
He replied with a vigorous nod and smile. Rochefort enjoyed the masculine comradery he felt between himself and those among the ranks of the Cardinal’s guards.
It was becoming easy to see things in a finer view, now. His wavy black hair flowed behind his stride, the strays lying across his shoulders, or caught in the strap of his old baldric. Rochefort’s path ascended, climbing two flights of stairs and pulling open an ornate door without ceasing.
Passing through, he readied himself a quieter composure and then thought it would be an effective idea to re-secure the door. He carried with himself a key to the Cardinal’s bedroom but felt sound in leaving it unlocked overnight so as to not impede his path.
The metals clicked together inside of the hole, and he replaced the key into his doublet’s breast pocket. Now, he was well into the Cardinal’s quarters; Who was presently nestled in his duvet and consumed with an open-mouthed snore.
The entrance to the Cardinal Richelieu’s bedroom was adjacent though some distance away in addition to it being completely unmarked. You could pass through either, they were mutually accessible.
Despite the darkness, he walked forward with no difficulty until the tall, middle aged man was at the window. Pulling back the heavy red curtains, his action was followed with no hesitation by unlocking the window and opening it in full. A cold draft entered, surely indicative of the deep morning’s temperature which would disappear with no evidence that the world had ever been cold, or dark. Funny how that goes; The setting at dawn being uniformly alien just hours later.
The older man’s skinny hands buried themselves in the red expanse of his bedding at this slight difference in the air. Red, red everything - It was Richelieu’s favorite color in conjunction with denoting his papal alignment. Strewn among his bedding was several of his cats who insisted on accompanying him through the night. His moustache was ungroomed as was his hair, the aged man’s expression coupled with this was uniquely charming as he snored on contentedly and disheveled.
With fresh illumination but not much, Rochefort’s eyes were neutral as they looked upon him. He bent to him, his blackish waves falling all over again from his shoulders as he did so. His hands went to grip the wrists of Richelieu, to shake him awake. With this, those cats closest or lying atop his body opened their eyes but did not budge from their spots.
No contest was to be had, with a deep sigh Richelieu opened his eyes. In the old man’s heart, he enjoyed nothing more than the younger man’s company. He was well adjusted to being cared for in this manner as was the standard for those in high positions in their times, but to have what could be held by some as an intimate role filled by his favorite Rochefort was a sincere delight.
“Morning, your Eminence.” Rochefort mumbled in an unfocused way, his dark eyes were fixed on the Cardinal’s.
His lips moved silently, a bit stunned in the moment as he did not expect the younger man’s face to be so near to his own. Finally, he uttered a short reply. “Morning.” Richelieu’s voice, it was haphazard for one reason or another.
The taller of the two lifted Richelieu from his bed, his arms winding around the much older man’s tiny frame. It was time to get his glorious Prime Minister’s day started. His cats jumped from the mattress with Yhe younger man’s introduction. The scent of his loins through his chemise was now plainly coating the room as he had been released from his bedding.
As he went about heaving his weight, the older man fell into his nature as he became further aware of his setting. “Rochefort, it’s about time. I knew I needed to piss soon, you should have been here earlier…” He grumbled, his despicable expectancy ever so prominent, and the urgency of his dilemma become ever clearer.
With a nod but no verbal reply, Rochefort continued as he had planned. Everyone needs to piss in the morning, don’t they?
In his age but despite his decent condition, Richelieu had become increasingly incontinent; It was about half the time he could control himself or not. So, today was at least a leg up in knowing that for another day he felt like he had some control over the issue as he did not soil himself through the night. But, knowing Richelieu’s mind and values it was likely that he did not care; Or that the prospect of his health deteriorating so early in his later years did not scare him as he could still strut and grope and demand and humiliate to his fullest ability despite whatever arbitrary condition riddled him.
Richelieu’s night chemise was extra long for warmth, even on a summer night it remained too cold for his liking. All his clothes were tailored to fit him but that was no different than anyone else in his time. His aide patted his wrinkled hand after settling him appropriately but before fetching his chamberpot.
His feet did not touch the ground, and in the perhaps eight seconds of Rochefort’s absence not once did the older man feel tempted to swing them playfully as he sat.
Turning back around, in the blue dawning light was a brilliant image of the older man. His chemise although it was not ornamented still complimented him greatly in his own design. The way he was sitting allowed his cock to hang from the edge of the bed freely. Where, it easily rested on the carpeted ground in front of the near elderly man, whilst his own feet could not touch the floor. Behind it, his heavy testicles each larger than his own head were suspended and swung slightly. Just from his position, it forced his long chemise up and offered to the older man’s aide a beautiful view of Richelieu.
It should not be explicitly lewd, but I cannot help myself in describing it as such.
The white expanse of cloth could not conceal him in this pose at all; His succulent pillar of cock thicker than the old man’s thighs was in full view accompanied with a glimpse of his testes behind it. The bottom of his obscene masculine sack peeking past the hem of his tailored chemise. Because it was exposed as so, the scent of his musky shaft was multiplied. The atmosphere between the two men felt thick with the pungent aroma of Richelieu’s dick and balls.
Rochefort let out a huff of admiration at the sight of the older man; One that Richelieu did not at first identify correctly. With his free hand, he smoothed his long umber hair behind his shoulder.
“Come on,” He began, rolling up his sleeves and setting the chamberpot on the floor in front of the Cardinal. Then, he hefted the flaccid column so that it’s tip rested on the lip of the pot so to enable easy jelimination.
It felt enormous in his hands, but Rochefort was beyond any stunned awe it would elicit from those with less refined tastes. He grabbed him just behind the head of his dick which alone was perhaps a foot long, his hands squished into the warm flesh of the older man.
It’s girth could be likened to that of the younger man’s own waist; In his thoughts while handling it was a sigh of despiritment after a moment to reflect on the reality of Richelieu’s cock. Already, it was huge beyond compare and perhaps in acknowledgement of the Cardinal’s divine and unrivaled endowment was the fact that it did not grow further in proportion when engorged, instead finding it suitable to simply tense and harden. But, the primal avarice lurking in the dark haired man’s heart remained subtly present despite being easily disengaged with his standard logic.
He then retracted the older man’s foreskin, both hands sliding the skin back to reveal the near elderly man’s meatus. With a playful slap Rochefort completed his gesture; The warmth of the Cardinal’s pungent dick greeted his bare hands with vigor.
“Alright, there! Whenever you’re ready, your Eminence.”
Although Richelieu showed no weakness in effort, his body had other plans. Increasingly, actually getting his piss to come was a disappointing struggle.
Looking down, he eyed the top of Rochefort’s dark-haired scalp as he kneeled to attend to his chamberpot; His strong masculine hands with fingers spread wide for stabilization upon the head of his penis and face turned away in service to his dick. The older man felt no indignation in being waited upon like so whether it be due to the service being common for manservants, or his own entitlement. Though it did not extend universally, Richelieu maintained a similar sadistic belief about pissing to Rochefort’s. When he had other aides, his enjoyment in their discomfort when being forced to help him with the mildly revolting deed was not to be concealed.
But it is not always so. Sometimes, nature does call. As much as he would have liked to tease Rochefort with a humiliating exposure such as the Cardinal gave freely to anyone he saw the opportunity arise for, the pressure in his bladder from overnight proved too urgent. The older man’s eyes closed, the lines of his furrowed brow creasing in their familiar ways. He strained first inaudibly to no avail, and then decided that he needed the extra push.
On Rochefort’s end, the unrefined flexing of the Cardinal’s urethral muscles gave the younger man a pleasant view of his meatus yawning open erratically. He pursed his lips, unsure of when it would come.
After less pain than usual, Richelieu felt the golden flow begin from his dick. All his years of freely urinating were taken for granted, he thought to himself in reflection; The feeling of the liquid travelling through his urethra which had previously come so instantaneously was one the Cardinal would never imagine he would desire to such a degree but nonetheless it was a taste acquired through his trials with strangury.
Through his ungloved hands Rochefort could feel the force of his stream while it cascaded through the older man’s huge dick. The heat of his dick alone was so delicious, and to feel the flesh spasming as it did was a gift. Unfortunately, the professional nature of the middle aged man’s current viewpoint prevented him from enjoying the view as much as he would have liked.
It’s volume was unusual, it filled an impressive portion of the chamberpot. Accompanying it was it’s heat and it’s obvious odor. It was through soon enough, and the Cardinal punctuated his completion with a satisfied sigh. While his eyes remained closed, a smile had formed on his face in the wake of his dick’s own punctuated dripping of urine from his tip in the moments following.
Rochefort hefted the older man’s dick from the pot, going to empty it from the window and return it to the cabinet. His dark hair fell from his shoulders once more while he leant forward to set his cock down gingerly. With a heavy flop, it rested again on the carpeted floor.
“Your Eminence, do you feel better?” Rochefort’s free wrist twisted as he started to face away to the window.
Before opening his eyes, the old man grumbled to himself. His sleepy affect was accentuated powerfully with his ungroomed moustache and hair. “Yeah, in fact. Thank you.” The Cardinal’s head turned to keep his focus on the younger man. “Brush my hair next will you, Rochefort?”
He closed the cabinet to where the chamberpot was kept and straightened up. The taller man’s eyes darted briefly to Richelieu behind him. “Certainly.” Without missing a beat, his hand grasped the ornate brush which laid atop the same night table near the window.
An observer might notice that the Cardinal’s night table was not near his bed. Thus, you would be able to infer that Richelieu did not expect to take care of himself. Though in his time it was wholly a standard for those considered fiscally endowed, the entitlement went much deeper than that tidbit and to a sinisterly perverse extreme.
He did not care to flourish his hair, instead he politely gripped his hands together and the old man fixed his posture as Rochefort came around with his hairbrush.
Cardinal Richelieu was not enthusiastically keen on his appearance, it was in fact by the demands of his servants to insist on maintaining such a rich appearance. The thought of a new garment scarcely crossed his mind, but it seemed for each event his guards thrust upon him a new and shockingly scarlet clerical dress all for him. Awkwardly, he accepted it and with the sheen of the fine fabric it brought him pleasure; But still, the motivation for Richelieu to be the one initiating this gain was absent.
Concerning his hair, he preferred the natural volume he carried with him but held no major objections to the sleek style he now had. And thus, we arrive at this segment of the older man’s daily ritual.
First, he removed the sleeping cap from the older man’s head. It was the same linen as his chemise and concealed the crown of his head as he slept; Complete with a drooping, pointy tip that Richelieu faced to the front so as not to look like the comically traditional liripipe.
Stroke after stroke of the brush in Rochefort’s hand tamed his hair, he continued until the Cardinal’s hair was a silken fountain of flowing fawn. While the younger man did so, Richelieu purred and his eyes shut lightly. This action likely brought out the kitty in him, his hands curled inward like delightful paws. This, Rochefort observed with glee but declined to comment on it as such.
“You look so handsome, your Eminence.” Rochefort smiled softly, scratching the near elderly man’s chin playfully. Unbridled, Cardinal Richelieu purred especially strongly before recovering himself with a happy sigh. He musn’t let himself become enchanted so with those enticing scratches from the younger man.
“Thank you, Rochefort.” He smiled, but narrowed his eyes.
“Let’s get you dressed, next?” The taller male asked, but had already turned around to fetch his outfit. The rest of their routine was over quickly enough.
First was his hose, fastened around his calves. It was tempting to linger on the older man’s feet but as he had resisted with handling Richelieu’s cock, Rochefort assured himself that there was a time and place for everything. Instead, he placed and fastened the Cardinal’s shoes on over his feet.
Because of the clerical robe’s length, the Cardinal needed no breeches. Lucky fact, that. There would perhaps be no conceivable option for the Cardinal to wear pants anyways due to his incredible endowment. At last, Richelieu stood and his chemise was able to conceal his loins since it fell to it’s unrestrained length.
This concealment was short-lived, though; The Prime Minister’s clerical dress was of a tighter variety and despite it slipping over the older man’s torso quite easily, the speed at which the glossy fabric slid over his pallid body was greatly diminished as it stretched over the near elderly man’s enormous dickbulge.
It was so familiar to Rochefort’s umber eyes that he did not immediately recognize it as the lewd sight it presented. It could be argued that there was slack enough for Richelieu to move it, but the shape of his long shaft was completely defined through the fabric. Easily as identifiable was the scent of his dick hardly reduced by the added layer over it.
Richelieu smoothed the bright red cloth over himself, and then fiddled with the cuffs of his robes. It was about that time that he felt he should grasp his autonomy to a little degree.
Last, was his hat. Swift in his movement, the taller man went to fetch it along with a container of beeswax. In his return, Richelieu took his red Cardinal’s hat from the younger man’s grasp and placed it atop his head.
Rochefort took the ends of the older man’s moustache in his waxed fingers. He twisted the ends of them, pulling them upwards into a Van Dyck. His beard followed suit.
“Excellent, your Eminence.” The dark haired man tilted his head with a grin to the shorter, much older man clad in such brilliant reds before him.
“There should be nothing else you expect, Rochefort.” The Prime Minister’s reply. His hand went to pet one of his cats which had started to sniff the old man. “Before we go, can you say ‘Good morning’ to her?” A babyish lilt transformed Richelieu’s voice as he spoke to his cat.
The younger man blew a strand of his hair nervously away; He had terrible luck with names. From what he had seen, he would have expected this trial to be a smaller but no less humiliating exercise from Richelieu. However, the older man’s occupation with his cats was genuine.
“Soumis?” His finger pointed in reference to the cat. She turned forward to sniff Rochefort’s finger in turn with her curious nature.
“Rochefort. You should be ashamed, Mademoiselle Soumis is so distinctive you should have no difficulty setting her apart from her friends…” Richelieu’s bony hands gripped her behind the shoulders, lifting her up so she could speak with his aide face to face.
It was endearing, but also awkward for the younger man to witness. This was exaggerated by the Cardinal being shameless in his behavior.
“Goodbye? You are leaving with Papa?” Richelieu pitched his voice up, and bounced the small gray cat on each word. “Monsieur Rochefort?”
The silence was painful, yet the pain was only single sided. “Yes, Mademoiselle. Goodbye.” He added a playful, waving gesture to his farewell.
Luck was in the air for Rochefort, since after this exchange the old man simply chuckled and released the animal from his arms.
“Today, I needed to see a new prisoner? No?” Richelieu tilted his head up to meet Rochefort’s gaze. Thankfully the lilt has left his voice.
“Correct, your Eminence.” He replied, and they started to walk together. They passed through his office and exited from the heavy double doors.
Cardinal Richelieu had very hardline morals to go with the laws he insisted on; The punishments the near elderly man drew up were routinely severe. Men who were arrested were often given no time to defend themselves, and instead where dragged away screaming to their demise.
Initially, it was his sadistic nature which drew him to follow up with certain prisoners. Already he was declaring new standards and definitions for what it would take to be a criminal in France; It was helpful as he could not only receive further revenue from their captivity but also would give the man some outlet. He would harass them and humiliate him with his piss or balls or any other method he thought of in the moment. Always, it was argued that for the prisoner’s single mistake to purge them by any deed was for the benefit of God’s France. The whole of it was cruel and especially unsettling once you factor after a wealth of examples that Richelieu believed all of his statements. The Cardinal’s guards who witnessed the action, many of them were highly uncomfortable but most of them came around to enjoying it in a similar albeit less severe light.
Eventually, the Cardinal took his hunger to greater depths.
Regular practice prior would include flopping his heavy dick onto a prisoner, forcing them to kiss the musky shaft; Or sitting on them and leaving them with no air to breathe but that which has been laden with the scent of his virile testes and messy asshole.
This evolved into his dick swallowing the unwilling man, who struggled as the last of his light vanished with the near elderly man’s foreskin recovering his meatus. All day, he would be forced to remain trapped in the older man’s stinking dick; No attention would be paid to him and it was always dehumanizing. Sometimes this was accompanied with the prisoner being pulled further down, into either of his hungry and sperm-filled testes. Inside, the older man’s sperm was carnivorous and the prisoner would be digested; Broken down into more seed and swelling his sack like that of Richelieu and Rochefort’s previous encounter.
Richelieu enjoyed this and when the chance rose, he would swallow often two men into each of his glorious balls, and a third to sit in his shaft and listen as his comrades were churned away. When it was over, he would cum to eject the remaining male from his pulsating shaft. The volume from the two men he digested was incredible, and would shoot messily from his cock in a continuous flow over the flustered survivor. But this was not unique, he still employed a myriad of similar techniques on any captive he saw fit.
Another favorite of the Cardinal was to simply devour them, and leave them as a meal for himself. It was regarded as ultra delicious when coupled with his dick swallowing another man or two or three; And it always frightened any guards who served as spectators for this horrible cruelty their first times. Those more inclined joined in with any harassment, or urged the Cardinal, but there was nobody who had the capable endowment of Richelieu to devour another man. Begging for their lives, they were pulled inside of the older man by his sexual sadism and hunger alone.
Although it was indeed Richelieu who urged our King Louis XIII to ban dueling in order to satiate his appetite with further liberty, it should be noted that the immense majority of those who fell prisoner to the Kingdom of France were for the rest of their lives facilitated in an average way and not fall as prey to Richelieu; Though that number was high.
Usually, Rochefort and Richelieu would have breakfast together; The Prime Minister’s favorite aide was appointed as the highest position among any of Richelieu’s staff and they stuck together like twins through the day. However with the news of this prisoner Richelieu took an interest in coming to rest where the Cardinal could see him, this stop on their routine was easily substituted as the older man saw the interaction as either equal to or greater than a meal.
The opportunity arose perhaps thrice a month for Richelieu to swallow a prisoner in any fashion, and as much as the Cardinal liked to imagine his appetite in this respect to be unending, it satiated him all the same. Besides, in between each meal the near elderly man was just as occupied with other, equally perverse ventures.
It was uniquely rare for the older man to walk away with an empty belly after requesting a stop such as this. Naturally, it meant that unless otherwise specified, that the Cardinal Richelieu would be presently on his way to breakfast all the same.
Back and forth, they kicked the conversation while they walked together. Down several flights of stairs, until they passed into an unmarked and especially lengthy corridor.
There was no care taken to it, and there was no ornamentation past the single door which marked the entrance of the Cardinal’s mini prison for criminals of interest.
Over the past few days, the Cardinal’s guards have been hard at work to transport a man they had arrested earlier on in the month. The details including the criminal’s background, or even the initial crime had all escaped Richelieu; There was nothing in them that would have modified the way he saw him.
“Good morning!” Richelieu called to the pair of his guards posted at the entrance. Upon seeing the old man in red, the two guards jolted, and shuffled to move aside in the narrow passage. Paying no mind to their anxiety and not stopping in his path, Richelieu nodded and passed through the doorway first with his slow gait and Rochefort following closely behind.
From the wall beside the door, one of the guards hurriedly retrieved an extra torch for the two. His partner had obviously blanked in the thick of his anxiety, and with a stressed hand he pulled out a matchstick.
“Here! Monsieur.” The first shoved the torch to Rochefort with vigor, who took it gently and replied with a nod of approval. And with that, the tall man with blackish hair closed the door behind them with one hand, and held their single source of light with the other.
There was a short staircase made of stone which lead straight down. Rochefort skirted by the shorter Richelieu, in an effort to illuminate the Cardinal’s path as they walked the passage.
“Are you excited, Rochefort?” He smiled, his moustache like a playful cat’s whiskers exaggerating the curled ends of his mouth.
In the orange light of the torch, Rochefort flipped his head back to reply. The way his hair settled around him made him appear somewhat haggard. “I should say so.” He spoke, and they continued. The excitement that filled the old man’s face on his way to personally punish his prisoner did not disturb Rochefort. Instead, it was a deep endearment he felt at how enthralled the older male was in his devious, lewd sadism.
“Well, I can hardly wait…” He huffed. In silence they descended the stairs, and were met with the damp dirt floor of the passage. It was only perhaps 100 feet more until their destination. In the distance, he could see a second, single torch adjacent to a desk where the jailer would be.
As they approached, Rochefort waved to the jailer currently standing by the door of the only occupied cell.
His posture was threatening, and had adequate credibility so. His frame was easily as tall as the Cardinal’s umber-haired assistant, and he had bulk to his arms and chest which was easily visible through his red smock. Presently, he was berating the sod within the cell; His rhetoric was appropriate as a glimpse of sadism into the circumstance.
“And why are you afraid? Can you tell me that simple thing? There is nobody else next to you, in your cell. So why are you afraid? You have nothing to say, so?” He spat and stood intimidatingly close to the cell, where the prisoner sat crumpled at the back. His broad shoulders were unconsciously flexed, as he held the man held his hands on his hips in an irritated gesture. A well oiled and shining black boot tapped impatiently while he shifted about.
“I d-don’t know! There must be a r-reason for me to be alone. Why g-go through all the effort to keep me here? I-Instead of where I was…” A gruff shriek, it was the prisoner’s response. His dirty hands were held close to his face as he spoke, afraid of the jailer.
Before the jailer could issue another retort, he noticed the presence of Rochefort and the Cardinal; Likely, he had smelled that lingering scent of Richelieu’s dick as it wafted towards him in their pathway. Lighting up in an instant, he whipped about to greet them.
The man’s skin was fair, and with a small number of dark brown freckles over his nose and cheeks. His face was rounded and looked heavy in comparison to the rest of his figure; It was not without the popular Van Dyck styling of the time. His beard was neat, and his cheeks were absent of any stubble.
Initially, his eyes were full of a mean look. Gleaming in the orange glow of the torch, they transformed upon seeing his comrades in red and fawn approach. Above them was a heavy brow, full and with unruly black hairs which touched gently in the center.
Framing his face was coal black hair. It reached only to his shoulders, and curled at the ends forming a cute, waving plume at his shoulders. Finally, resting atop his head was the final piece to his uniform. A hat ornamented only with a single ostrich feather, it was every bit as appropriate as his Van Dyck.
The name to this man was Jussac, and he was the official captain of the Cardinal Richelieu’s guards. Often, he and Rochefort worked together on projects that the Cardinal had appointed them to. Jussac and Rochefort were very close, and shared the same interests as Richelieu and his aide.
They had said their ‘Good morning’s in unison. In his cell, the prisoner was forgotten in an instant.
“It is very good to see you, Jussac!” Rochefort laughed, clapping the man heartily on the back.
Jussac expressed a similar excitement, as did Richelieu. They went around gripping and happily hugging on each other. As the trio were nearing the end of their pleasantries, it was hastened by loud grumble from the Cardinal’s stomach.
“I should have known, your Eminence!” Jussac said with a laugh. His ungloved hand went to fetch his keys to the prisoner’s cell so as to let Richelieu inside.
Seeing this from inside, the man grew a terrible, worried expression. He wanted to ask but knowing it was no use, he resigned his efforts. Already the scent of the Cardinal’s enormous dick and balls was made present to him though he was unable to identify it; Only to be consumed with a stomach-turning disgust in the lewd and overpowering aroma. In turn, it seemed that the trio had noticed the prisoner’s uneasiness. In anticipation, Rochefort set the torch he carried inside of an empty fixture for it.
“It is my duty, isn’t it?” Richelieu’s smile was so catlike, just behind it if it were to break the old man would let out a revelrous giggle. No shame, no secret that the near elderly man enjoyed his acts of sadism liberally. The two taller men nodded in agreement, becoming excited. Jussac opened the cell’s door for the shorter, much older man in his expensive scarlet expanse.
On the dirty floor of his cell, he could speak no words. His fate was clear to him now, there was nothing he could do to defy his destiny. His vision was becoming narrow and blurred; The Cardinal’s fine shoes stepping into his cell scattered the dust on the floor, and this was all that the man could see in his frozen perspective.
Although he thought that it would be unwise, his gaze followed unwillingly upwards. He took in the shamelessly lewd sight of the older man standing above him.
Through his clothes, his impossible cock was visible in every detail. The sight of his endowment shocked him greatly; At once he was feeling fear, disgust, confusion, and humiliation in the presence of the near elderly man and his cock so long and thick it was thicker than his own waist by a large margin in its flaccid state. Now, the source of the pungent smell was throbbing in his wake as Richelieu’s dick hardened with excitement.
“By the glory of God, I’ll purge the Earth of the likes of you.” The Cardinal grumbled, and made an attempt to grab his prisoner.
Transfixed by the Cardinal’s dick, and choked by the scent of his loins, he could not register any action in reply. Rochefort and Jussac looking onward had become similarly aroused. Through their breeches, their cocks were similarly bulging and twitching to life.
He had never taken a concise measurement of the guard’s penis, though Rochefort was certain that Jussac’s dick was similar in size to his own. The Cardinal’s aide humored his curiosity, and his hand explored the bulge of the man next to him. He could feel the heat of it, and he struggled to grip the girth of Jussac’s testes. They felt smaller than his own, but nonetheless huge by any standard respect.
Jussac groaned, he felt a bead of precum drip from the tip of his cock straining halfway down his thigh against his breeches from Rochefort’s grip. He reciprocate the gesture and soon enough the two men were stroking each other’s visibly throbbing dicks.
Richelieu’s own was hardening at a rapid pace. Through the fabric of his clerical robes stretched around the pulsing column, you could see his veins engorge. What surprised him was the loud dripping splat of his pre on the floor of his cell as it leaked from his cocktip.
The sound and smell of the older man’s precum invigorated Richelieu’s prisoner. He felt afraid, and humiliated. To think of this as a possibility was completely bizarre, and yet the insecurity appeared all the same. The Cardinal who now gripped him around the shoulders was nearly twice his age. And yet, even the volume of his own load would pale in comparison as the near elderly man who now held him had fat droplets of precum thrice as copious dripping from his dick too heavy to erect normally. Even the smell, it was impossibly virile; It was infuriating to think that the Cardinal’s sperm at his age was so fertile you could smell it while that was an impossibility to other men. Though, that might not be such a thing unique to the Prime Minister; His aide and to a lesser degree the Captain of his Order of Guards was similarly brimming with sperm. Any of his companions here, would easily put his own dick to shame twice over.
But, why would he worry about these such aspects when he was faced with his demise? In a few days, he would perish inside of the older man’s body. In a week, he would have been excreted out of Richelieu’s anus. The prisoner shuddered at that thought. Though he was limp, perhaps by some support from God, Richelieu was able to lift the criminal to his mouth.
It stretched open wide, his moustache exaggerating the gesture comically. The Cardinal’s mouth salivated much to match his hard penis currently drooling aggressively and with every twitch forcing out a huge drop of precum which spattered loudly on the cell’s floor.
His last sensation of the outside world was his sinuses being completely full with the smell of the old man’s precum and balls. Never again would he walk freely; He hadn’t done so for over two weeks now. Never again would he have the ability to smell the fresh air, nor see his reflection, nor hear anything beyond the disgusting gurgles of the man’s stomach, nor taste bread, and feel his own belly be full enough to joyously sustain himself. Instead, he was now sustenance for the Cardinal Richelieu; The sadist who had it all, including his own liberty.
His slow fate was sealed. There was so much time between then and now, and yet his exit was already determined.
Richelieu shoved the prisoner into his gullet. The man’s empty stomach whined impatiently, and urged his throat with swallowing. He knew nothing of the man he took as food, not an ounce of knowledge for even the truth of his innocence.
The prisoner could say nothing. To know he would be slowly digesting inside of the disgusting old man’s belly for days before he would be allowed to finally die was such a grotesque and real fear to him in this moment that he could not protest the absurdity of this cruel, inhumane punishment.
Jussac and his superior continued rubbing each other furiously through their breeches to this sight. Whimper followed gasp followed breathy, masculine moan from either of them. Jussac’s eyes closed and he breathed in the musk of Rochefort, who kissed the man as he got close to him. Their lips lingered on each other; They touched each other gloriously and needed no affirmation of the authenticity of their love as comrades.
Cardinal Richelieu’s cock bounced with excitement and delight. It’s stream of audible precum never ceased, and it continued to shoot to some effect from his visibly twitching dick. What complimented it nicely was the low gurgling from his testes as they churned their semen happily away in his sack. Despite this, their power could not distract from the feast that the Cardinal had currently absorbed himself in.
Inside of the older man’s throat was hot, it was wet and slimy and it gripped his body painfully tight. His fingers tried to no avail to scratch at him, to weaken Richelieu in any form.
‘This is wrong. This is all wrong. This is the Pope’s own, I shouldn’t fight him.’ He whined in his head, unable to vocalize. He could feel his lips passing over his dirty thighs; In seconds he would be swallowed down into the Cardinal’s belly.
He wanted more than anything to shout: ‘You cannibal’! The degree to which the yearning manifested itself in his chest was staggering. He wanted to shout his proclamation, and to have them understand the paradoxical inhumanity of their punishment. It would never happen.
The prisoner might as well have died and been sentenced to Hell without trial. It was all the same, and equally as cruel and bizarre as a genuine Old Testament punishment.
Cardinal Richelieu’s stomach was hotter than a sauna, and it packed him into a neat little ball. Two weeks ago, he was strong and could fend for himself. Now, he was wound tightly into submission deep inside the body of a near elderly man. Like food, he would be broken down and what was left of him would become human excrement.
Jussac and Rochefort had finished, but upon catching their breath and seeing that the Cardinal had finished his meal they both concurred silently that it would have been in their best interest to wait. Then, they could have had the chance to rub their long cocks against the older man’s bloated stomach and to torture the remains of the man inside of him for a little longer while he was still concious.
Their mess was for the most part shot copiously some distance away, and the sweat and musk would likely disappear without permanent consequences. In the Cardinal’s special jail, their leavings would serve as appropriate decorations for the next group of males to enter; The smell and erotic stain a picture perfect preview for their likely fate.
Richelieu’s clerical robe was now stretched high across his stomach; It held the whole mass of another man who was originally taller than Richelieu himself. Undoubtedly, there was some miracle stopping it from snapping and soiling; God had decided to bless his Eminence today as a reward for his duty completed by eating the prisoner. Who, inside he thought to himself concurrently at the time though uncorrelated that his statement was such an ironic feat. The man said he would purge the Earth for the glory of God, and yet in doing so he indulged in such a cruel manner to his fellow man.
His thoughts would never be put on paper, his fate never be known. An atrocity that was not only justified, but viewed by Richelieu as so routine it was unworthy of record. Even, it was encouraged by the two tall men who did not intervene; They only pleasured themselves to the sight.
Cardinal Richelieu had decided that although his thick cock was presently throbbing vigorously from all of his excitement, it would have been too much of an effort to finish himself off. The fatigue he felt now from the great struggle of consuming his criminal was forcing the arousal away slowly. His robe did not cover his cock, it did not even cover his thighs. Although it was to be expected that it did not concern the near elderly man.
As Rochefort exchanged farewells with Jussac, Richelieu rubbed his swollen stomach. Subtle movements could be both felt and seen coming from his meal struggling in him.
Now, the Prime Minister bid goodbye to his Captain, and congratulated him for a shift well done as a jailer. His aide retrieved the torch from the fixture which still burned in order for them to set off through the passage for a final time this week.
Rochefort helped the Cardinal up the stairs as he had some obvious struggle in ascending them. “You are not cold?” The taller man asked as he took a step up.
The Cardinal huffed. “No. Obviously not, Rochefort.” His reply with no ounce of shame as he knew that the taller man was indeed referring to his robe unable to cover his lower half due to the strain around his belly. “You think I should be embarrassed or something?”
He laughed, pulling the old man up another step. “That’s not it. I think some of them need to be reminded how to admire you anyway, your Eminence.”
Richelieu stomped up another few steps, breathing deeply from the exertion. To haul a struggling meal around like this almost felt like it wasn’t worth it. “Rochefort, you say the kindest words…” The kitty in him purred, the Prime Minister felt like he was being charmed by the much younger man.
“I should say nothing else. I cannot say I should be disingenuous.” Rochefort hummed, his dark moustache quivering with his sigh. “Tomorrow, I shall make an appointment with you and Monsieur D’Artagnan.”
His suggestion continued to pique his interest that had been on the back burner of his agenda for a few days at this point. In his excitement, the Cardinal had all but forgotten any manners not relating to the criminal he now had swallowed.
Before the Cardinal could reply, Rochefort furthered his reasoning.
“Your presence has such a charm to it. You know my capabilities are with the best, your Eminence. But the pup has yet to understand.”
The clear light of the day met them as they exited the passage. It had only been an hour and still the world in it's white illumination had transformed the Earth; Alien from the blue twilight from which everything felt alone in it's stirring.