Belinda (2 page)

‘I say!' he cried, ‘A beautiful damsel clearly in distress! My dear girl, do climb aboard and let's hear your story!'

And with that he jumped down and helped Belinda up. An experienced girl, she did not miss the significance of his patting her rather sharply on the bottom as she climbed aboard, but she had come to expect that sort of thing from almost every man she met.

He did not touch her after that though, and she poured out her sad story to him as they trotted along in the shiny black buggy. He showed great sympathy, and told her she must return to his tobacco plantation for the night at least. Very English, his name was Lord Raven and he claimed to be the biggest and the best slave owner in Virginia. He said he had maids and butlers, all Negroes, but if she was interested in staying on he would welcome an English housekeeper to run the household.

‘But let's see how you fit in!' he shouted cheerfully as, at dusk, they drove through the arched timber entrance of his vast plantation and started the hour-long trot along his drive to the house.

Later that evening Belinda was delighted to find herself sitting with Lord Raven at his table, dressed simply but decently in a thin floral-patterned low-cut gown that had been fished out for her from the loft. She was pleased at the way in which it showed off her full soft bosom to the best effect. The tobacco plantation's house was quite sumptuous and the dining room was beautifully furnished with a number of natural wickerwork and cane chairs and side tables. The large polished wooden dining table had a small banquet heaped upon it and she ate heartily of a refreshing fruit called a water melon followed by a choice of meats which included beef, duck and pork as well as boiled potatoes and cabbage – all very comfortingly British. This meal was luxury to Belinda after her recent experiences and Lord Raven was a generous and entertaining host. She felt more than just a surge of gratitude as she looked at him. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the suggestion of a sinister nature behind his handsome smile, Belinda could not help feeling greatly attracted to him, in an innocently romantic way. She kept pondering what her answer should be if he were to make any advances towards her. She hoped he wouldn't, because she suspected that she could be eventually persuaded, and she really preferred to avoid that sort of thing until she was married. His face was handsome if a little sharp-featured and autocratic now that she could see it in clear dust free light, but he had dressed immaculately for dinner in a black velvet jacket, patterned cravat and thin black trousers of an uncertain silky material, and there was little about him to repel any healthy young woman.

It seemed he had no family, and the only other person in the room throughout the meal was Wallace, the very dignified Negro butler, a large and comely man in spite of the grey hair at the sides of his bald pate. As he cleared away the remains of the meal, which had ended with some very nice cheese from the plantation's own farm, Lord Raven stood and poured Belinda and himself a French brandy. She had refused wine with the meal, not being accustomed to it, but she happily admitted to having a particular penchant for certain spirits and liqueurs. She had forgotten that she had acquired the taste from the groom who had plied her with such drinks before taking away her virginity in the stables back home.

Once Wallace had removed all traces of the meal from the long table, leaving only the pearly tablecloth in place, he stood back and coughed politely. Lord Raven consulted his ornate gold pocket watch and looked at the servant.

‘Is Rosie waiting?' He asked Wallace.

Wallace smiled. ‘Yes, sir.'

‘Has she been waiting throughout the meal?' continued the master.

‘She sure have, sir. And she know what to expect too, sir.'

‘Oh excellent!' beamed Lord Raven. He saw that Belinda was a little puzzled but did not say anything to enlighten her except, ‘You might enjoy watching this, my dear.'

Still unsure what was happening, she nonetheless managed a bright face of polite interest.

‘Well, bring her in, man!' he said sharply to the kindly faced butler who immediately left them. He returned after a moment leading a devastatingly beautiful negress of around nineteen or twenty by her bare upper arm. In common with the rest of his lordship's slaves that Belinda had observed working on the estate when she had arrived, she seemed to be healthy and well nourished if not quite overfed. Her attire was easy to describe – barefoot, she wore a plain short-sleeved shift of thin black cotton that reached only halfway down her thighs. Her full round cheeks shone beneath the sparkling chandelier and she looked quite nervous, thought Belinda with concern.

Wallace positioned her before the master.

‘This Rosie, sir, like I told you about.'

Belinda noticed Lord Raven's sharp eyes roam over the girl's full firm body, lingering where her large breasts pushed the black cotton tightly outwards. She didn't blame him, for Rosie was a very attractive girl.

‘Rosie,' spoke her master, making her jump a little, ‘Wallace tells me you don't want to work in my fields any more.'

Poor Rosie looked alarmed at that way of expressing her intentions and was about to reply but Wallace silenced her with a glower.

‘But,' continued Lord Raven, ‘that you would like to work in the house as a maid, replacing that idle sow Flower that I was forced to sell. Am I right, Rosie?'

The girl, eyes down, nodded and whispered, ‘Yes master.'

‘Now then, you can look me in the eye, Rosie; I want you to tell me what you expect to get out of working in the house. Don't be afraid.'

Rosie looked to Wallace for confirmation that this was all right, and he nodded.

‘Master, I a good worker in the fields and all but I like to work in the house because I got the skills and the temperament. And also the house servants they get bit better food and much better beds.'

‘But you know what else they get, don't you Rosie?'

‘Yes, master,' she replied, lowering her eyes once again.

‘Then tell my lady visitor what else you'll get if I let you be a maid.'

‘I gets beat regular, master.'

‘You get beat, Rosie. My slaves who work in the fields rarely get beaten, slaves are expensive and my neighbours who treat their vassals with too much violence and too little food find that they lose a lot of them both to disease from malnutrition and infected whip marks, and from running away. No slave has ever run away from my plantation, so I also save on guards as well. Ill-treated serfs don't breed so successfully either. But inside the house regular beatings are an essential part of my personal pleasure and therefore form one of my requirements.'

Lord Raven was addressing Belinda as much as Rosie. Belinda's heart was pounding a little at the scene that was being enacted before her, though she did not know if it were caused by fear or excitement.

‘And you still want to be a maid even though you get beaten? The choice is yours, Rosie.'

Rosie nodded, her head down but her eyes raised to look at her aristocratic owner. He turned to Belinda.

‘Well, my dear, you're in for a little treat. I know most women like to watch this sort of thing.'

Belinda was undeniably fascinated. She had a good inkling of what was coming, and it would certainly be a wonderful luxury for her to be a spectator rather than the victim. She also found Rosie's well-built body and shining skin coupled with her well-trained submissive personality equally intriguing. And she was just as breath-taken to notice, as Lord Raven stood up, that his tight-fronted trousers were bulging most impressively. Her toes flexed in her shoes and her thighs squeezed together as an instinctive reaction to her thoughts, reflexes that made her blush as she noticed them and fought them down.

Lord Raven went to the grandfather clock and retrieved a barber's shop strop from beside it. As he turned around and both women saw the hard leather Belinda felt the flesh on her own bottom tingling.

The master stared at Rosie. He had the strop held in both hands across the front of his trousers, and Belinda could see he was pressing his penis with it, an observation she tried to ignore.

‘Very well, my girl,' he said coldly. ‘Pass this entrance test and you'll move in as maid this very night. Fail it and you'll be back in the fields at sunrise.'

Rosie brightened a little at that and nodded. Belinda was quite impressed to note such a simultaneous expression of joy and fear on a human face, but Rosie clearly felt confident about getting the promotion she wanted.

Lord Raven turned to Wallace who stood by impassively. He raised an eyebrow to the manservant, who immediately moved towards Rosie.

‘How's sir having the girl?' he asked as he gripped her arms firmly.

‘Let's try her as she is for starters, Wallace,' came the reply, and Wallace pushed her towards the nearest edge of the table. Standing tight behind her he pushed her down over the table and then went around to the other side to face her. He gripped her wrists and pulled them, her wide eyes staring into his. Her thin dress stretched tightly across her full bottom and rode up so that the top half of her thighs were clearly to be seen. As Lord Raven took up position sideways on to the girl, Belinda noticed with consternation that not only did the aristocrat have a whopping hard-on, but that the butler had pulled the girl's hands closer to him and had them pressed firmly against the front of his grey striped trousers.

Lord Raven asked Belinda to hold the strop momentarily whilst he removed his jacket, and Belinda felt its weight in her hands. About eighteen inches long, an inch and a half wide and nearly a quarter of an inch thick, the feel of it in her hands once again made the skin of her legs and bottom tighten as it brought back vivid memories for her. She was once again glad to be watching rather than receiving for a change.

The slave girl's owner retrieved the hard leather from Belinda, smiled at her and then wheeled around and cracked it into Rosie's bottom. The girl gave a shocked gasp as the crack echoed around the room. Wallace was still holding her close by the wrists, and her hands stretched out wide as a reflex reaction to the strop. Wallace beamed and pressed them in closer so that as they shut they automatically squeezed his bulging front and he rammed himself against her palms.

‘Yes, very nice,' mused Lord Raven, ‘but now let's raise the dress a little, shall we?'

Wallace released his grip on the girl, and the master made her straighten up. He then bent in front of her, took hold of her hem and pulled the dress up around her waist. Her full thighs and bottom were a very dark golden colour, Belinda observed as she watched with her breathing becoming faster and shallower.

Lord Raven beamed at Belinda's obvious interest, causing her heart to flutter romantically as she guiltily averted her eyes from the obscene but exciting display, and he then bent Rosie over once again. Her ample but firm buttocks stood up like great golden globes and the tightly stretched skin shone brightly beneath the chandelier. He looked at Wallace's trousers.

‘You want your freedom, Wallace?'

Wallace grinned. ‘I sure wouldn't mind, sir,' he said, and started to unbutton his fly.

The plantation owner turned to Belinda. ‘He has a rather large penis, my dear. When it becomes aroused it can get caught up inside and cause him some distress which is no fault of his own. I trust you don't object?'

Belinda's eyes sparkled. ‘I'm sure it's nothing I haven't seen before,' she said with a knowing smile and a shrug, her forced casual manner coming from a combination of wanting to impress this handsome nobleman and the increasing confidence obtained from the unaccustomed intake of brandy. Lord Raven leered lecherously down at her cleavage and then turned back to the table.

The butler finished undoing his buttons and reached in with his thumb and forefinger and pulled out his enormous erection. As it came free it burst upwards and stood there pounding against his waistband, very close to the prostrate Rosie's face. With a heavy sigh Wallace again took the girl's hands and made her grip his mighty black penis. Belinda was highly excited by now, and her hands dropped onto her lap, where she used the upper one to try to conceal that the lower was pressing as close as it could to her clitoris through her thin cotton gown. She had long ago found she could divert or diffuse her most sinful thoughts by complete or partial masturbation, and had indulged in this quite often as a safe alternative to real vice. She could see no moral wrong in this; even the Bible had only condemned the practice by men and had not mentioned women doing it. It was obviously a perfectly acceptable form of release from dangerous thoughts, especially as it involved no other person.

Lord Raven once again took up position sideways on to Rosie. He closely examined her raised buttocks, stroking and pinching them both gently and cruelly. Then he suddenly thrust his hand fiercely between her legs and rammed it upwards to crush her clitoris with his strong fingers. Belinda was simultaneously alarmed and thrilled at this, and pressed herself through her dress again and tried to stroke the damp vulva hidden therein. She felt sure now that Lord Raven would try it on with her that night, and she was wondering whether to allow him access to her jealously guarded treasure as a precondition for marriage and the life of a lady on a rich plantation. As we will learn, Belinda's high morals were tempered by her equally high intelligence and the practical nature that came with being born into a factory owner's family.