Belinda (7 page)

‘Oh,' she squealed as a not unwelcome tingle of excitement shot through the soles of her feet and up her legs to her quim. ‘What are you doing?' she blundered stupidly. Jens said nothing and continued to stare stoically ahead. Motivated by the desire to comfort – and the desire churning in the pit of her stomach – Belinda stroked his calf uncertainly. Judging by his lack of admonishment she was not breaking any of the sect's rules by doing this; indeed, the only reaction was a healthy surge of his penis that brought it aiming directly at her spellbound face. Although it was still not fully erect she was overwhelmed with a desire to feel it in her mouth. With increasing confidence she slid her hand up the back of his leg to caress his bruised and burning bottom. He quietly sucked in air at her gentle touch. Looking up at him with wide eyes, expecting him to call for help or order her to desist at any moment, she stroked around to the front of his thigh. She worked carefully, as though not wanting to startle a beautiful wild animal. His chest rose and fell more noticeably. Encouraged, she cupped his balls and weighed their youthful virility. She heard a soft gasp from above, and took that as permission to proceed further. His foreskin rolled back of its own accord and his shiny purple helmet inched towards her waiting mouth. She gripped the base of his turgid column and started to masturbate it slowly but firmly. The helmet disappeared inside the protective foreskin, and then reappeared as her fist slid back towards his belly. A silky pearl oozed from the tip, and Belinda leaned forward to collect it on her tongue. She closed her eyes. He tasted fresh and sweet. Fingers urged against the back of her head and she looked up to see Helle standing beside them. She smiled down and the fingers increased their pressure. Belinda's moist lips peeled apart and the clean male flesh filled her mouth with one smooth movement. She knelt passively while Jens' hips pumped freely back and forth. Fingers stroked her hair and her hollowed cheeks. Helle whispered encouragement in her native tongue. Belinda looked up and watched Helle caress Jens' hairless chest and nipples. They kissed passionately, and Jens twitched and mumbled incoherently into her mouth as Belinda's throat filled with his wonderful sperm.

Sunday was the day both of revelations and of great shocks for Belinda. This was the Sabbath, and it was she alone who rose at the first grim grey light of day to prepare the fire and the breakfasts single-handedly. She was initially quite cheerful about this mammoth day of work, given that she had very little real chores to see to during the week. She had learnt that the group could not use their hands on a Sunday for anything except such basic matters as eating, climbing in and out of the wagon, and purely religious topics.

As she hummed to herself her mind once again returned to Friday night, when she had consoled the beaten Jens. She felt her clitoris tingle as she remembered that long cock and its healthy meaty taste, but she had also been intrigued to notice that his hands were quite chunky, whereas those that had molested her in the night had been distinctly of a slender form, just as Thonnig's were. But in spite of all her experiences in life, she found it hard to accept that such a devout man could have done such a thing. Perhaps he had done it in his sleep?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Thonnig himself appearing and climbing down from his wagon, the first of the group to appear that morning. He was dressed of course, since they all slept in their clothes on the trail. She blushed as he approached, sure that he had been reading her thoughts.

‘Come, please,' he said, and walked out of the square to the greenery beside the trail.

Belinda followed nervously, and when he stopped she caught him up.

‘I need to urinate,' he said in his guttural Danish voice.

Belinda stared at him in astonishment. He looked irritated and pointed to his fly.

‘We cannot use our hands,' he said stiffly. ‘At home it is easy, we go naked in the house from midnight on Saturday to midnight on Sunday, so toilet is not a trouble. But here is not so easy, that is one reason why we have servant, yes?'

Belinda was mortified, but felt she must comply. She stood behind him and reached around to undo his buttons.

‘Hurry, please,' he said quietly, and she rummaged inside and pulled out his cock. She knew immediately from where his son Jens had inherited his generous proportions.

In all that had happened in her relatively short life, this was the most humiliating moment so far. Holding a penis was one thing, but to be such a personal body slave as to have to help a sombre religious maniac like Thonnig to urinate was so shameful that Belinda had to squeeze her eyes tightly shut to prevent the tears from rolling as her head pressed against his black smelly jacket.

She aimed his penis away and felt it swell in her hand as it filled and jetted out noisily onto the rich wild grass. It was a long piss and at the end she had to shake it vigorously and put it away again before they walked back into the wagon square together.

Belinda's face was burning as she resumed her chores, and she was aghast at the thought that she would have to do the same – and worse – for the other members of the group. As she toiled away at her forlorn task of scrubbing the cooking pots with cold water and sand, she tensed when she saw one of the women come out of another wagon. But to her relief the chisel-faced female walked out of the square and disappeared for a few minutes. On her return she simply gave Belinda a look of contempt and climbed back into her canvas home.

Obviously, thought Belinda, it's only the men who will require assistance. The women presumably could manage without offending against their strange laws. But one by one the remaining men of the group surfaced, and they either ignored her or gave a look of scorn as she laboured on a Sunday. In each case they left the square for a couple of minutes and returned, putting the finishing touches to doing up their trouser buttons.

As the last man returned from seeing to himself, Belinda pushed her hair out of her face with the back of her wrist as an angry suspicion gnawed away at her brain. Frowning, she looked round to glare in Thonnig's direction, but she found he was already giving her a worried look and immediately and guiltily averted his gaze as she looked at him. She felt a little satisfaction when she observed a slight flush rise to his gaunt cheeks.

So that was it. He was the monster whose hand had so cruelly tormented her in the night, knowing that his poor son Jens would get the blame if there was a complaint. But his perverted nature had slipped up today; in his desire to use the religion as an excuse to get her to hold his penis in the open air, he had miscalculated grossly by forgetting that the others would inadvertently show him up by not requiring the same service. She felt so sick that she would have walked straight out of the job there and then, but she was in the middle of a wilderness, and she did have to get to California.

The whole group, with the exception of Jens and the girl Helle, were totally obnoxious to Belinda throughout that holy day. They seemed to have saved all the worst jobs for Sunday, and she found herself washing week old stockings and underwear by hand in the icy water that she had to carry from a nearby stream. There was neither time nor timber enough to heat water. She also had to clean the four wagons thoroughly, and received a lot of vicious abuse from each wife in turn at the slightest excuse. The more she tried to please the nastier they became. They had a prayer meeting in the morning, after she had fed them breakfast, and then they all went for a walk to glorify their interpretation of religion.

Only Thonnig's wife Anna stayed behind after the group agreed that their worldly possessions could not be entrusted to such a low form of life as Belinda. This she found to be the most hurtful thing that had been heaped upon her by these people who had treated her so well up to now. She could not understand it and once again she was close to tears as she wrung out the cold laundry in her chapped hands and watched them stroll away.

Anna went into her wagon, and after a few moments Belinda heard her cry, ‘Belinda, get in here!'

Fearfully, wondering what minor mistake she had committed when she had cleaned their wagon, Belinda climbed in. She was relieved to see Anna relaxing on the blankets on the plank floor, although she chilled a little at the Danish woman's hostile stare.

‘Come!' snapped Anna patting the floor beside her, and Belinda, not having a clue what to expect, sat down beside her mistress.

‘No, no, lie down now,' Anna said very crisply.

Belinda, her heart thumping, obeyed and stretched herself flat on her back beside the woman in the cramped covered wagon. For a minute Anna said nothing; only her heavy breathing could be heard. Then she stared into Belinda's eyes. ‘We are alone,' she stated.

Belinda nodded cautiously. She was just wondering if she was to receive a sermon aimed at converting her when Anna's right hand shot out, pushed her dress up to her knees and gripped her just above and inside the hemline. She gasped and stared in amazement as Anna's hand tickled its way up her thigh. Those slender fingers with work-roughened hands – they were the ones that had assaulted her in bed that night. It wasn't Thonnig, it was his wife!

Belinda lay shocked and still as those expert hands stroked her thighs before moving on upwards to her fluffy and, she realised with a feeling of self-loathing, excited vagina. Four coarse fingertips danced lightly up and down her crack and toyed with her clitoris. The woman's skilled fingers quickly allayed Belinda's terror and disgust, and she became quite aroused and surrendered meekly as Anna leaned over her and pressed her lips to hers. As the kiss intensified so did the electrifying tickling. But then, just as Belinda had abandoned all mental protest, Anna pressed her mouth down violently and rammed her tongue into Belinda's throat. This served to stifle our weary traveller's protests as Anna's plier-like fingers crushed the lips of her vulva as they had before. Anna removed her lips from Belinda's, but placed an earthy hand over her mouth to stop her screaming as the spiteful torture of her gentlest parts continued ruthlessly. This was far worse than the previous attack, for Anna had no witnesses to concern herself about. Her interest in torture was very well defined; she was only preoccupied with inflicting as much pain as possible with her fingers on the one part of the young woman's body, and this she did with a furious gusto.

Suddenly she stopped and, pulling her own dress high, threw her legs over Belinda, wriggled up her body and planted her sex over the suffering female lips beneath. Belinda could scarcely breath with the weight of that fanny pressing on her mouth, and she sucked vigorously to make her come – and go – as quickly as possible.

The pious hypocrite did indeed come very quickly, making a noise like a bear that had just lost its honey. That over, she stood up and told Belinda to get out. But as our poor Englishwoman went to leave the wagon Anna slipped a hand up the back of her dress, fondled her bottom and hissed coldly and bewilderingly, ‘You will suffer for that, you dirty little Jezebel!'

With emotions a mixture of fear and unrequited sexual arousal, Belinda was once again close to crying as she resumed her chores, this time having to endure the woman's bullying commands to work harder until, at last, the rest of the group returned.

In the middle of the afternoon most of the party had retired for a snooze, and Belinda was somewhat relieved when Thonnig and his wife approached as she was attempting to saw some logs single-handedly. They ordered her to stop work and to walk with them.

They strolled into a nearby deciduous wood, the heat of the afternoon sun diffused by the roof of broad leaves, and they sauntered in silence until they found a small green clearing by a tiny but fast-flowing brook.

‘We talk of a personal matter; that is why we leave the group now.'

Belinda wondered about what Thonnig was talking.

‘My poor wife has told me of your devilish attack on her while the two of you were alone.'

Belinda was horrified at this unjust statement, but Thonnig continued.

‘And I was so outraged that I told her something I had rashly decided to keep a secret for your sake; of how you sneaked up behind me and grabbed my…' he pointed to his groin, ‘saying you would hold it for me in case it offended the rules of the Sabbath for me to do it myself.'

Belinda was outraged, but too frightened to protest.

‘So,' spoke Anna, ‘we decide to teach you manners and to teach you that the lusts of the flesh are not always so nice.'

And without further explanation Thonnig pulled out his wicked looking sheath knife. Belinda almost died of fright, but the knife was not for her. Instead he went to a branch and cut off a knobbly stick, long thick and whippy. She then watched with astonishment as the husband and wife stripped naked until they wore only their stern expressions. Anna's breasts were as impressive as her husband's long cock, and Belinda could not help thinking that her vagina was somehow unusually attractive as its lips peeped through the covering of blonde pubic hair. Both bodies were strong and slender, and Belinda felt a stirring in her depths as she looked at them.

Her poetic thoughts were shattered when the couple suddenly grabbed her and pulled her long dress up over her head and off. She still had no underclothes to her name, and stood facing them in only her boots. Thonnig spun her around and pushed her against the rough bark of a tree while his wife went to the other side. Once there she reached around, took hold of Belinda's wrists and held her bare body tight to the trunk.