Belinda (4 page)

‘Yes, I'm from Liverpool, actually,' said Belinda, taking a sip of her gin and water.

And she told them of how she had come out in search of a new life, without mentioning her old life, and how Bill had been slain within minutes of their meeting. She also told them about Lord Raven and how she had watched the slave Rosie being beaten, albeit more or less voluntarily. Again, she omitted her role in that ritual.

Blonde Jane, speaking for the first time, was most intrigued by the events at Lord Raven's plantation, and went over and over the details with Belinda. She clearly found the situation quite thrilling and her little pink tongue darted in and out, licking her lips below her eagerly shining eyes.

Chubby Oliver, with beer dribbling down his shiny badly shaven chin, wanted to know where she thought she was heading, since she seemed to be directing herself deeper into the wilderness. They were astonished enough to exchange sudden smirks when she said California, though none of them knew of a place called The Angels, in English or in Spanish.

After some debate, Timothy advised her through heavy eyelids that her best, indeed her only, hope was to head for St Joseph on the banks of the Missouri, which was the jumping off point for most of the wagon trains. She'd be sure to find a train or a family to let her work her passage, a phrase that made Marie and Jane suppress snorts of amusement.

‘Oliver,' drawled Jane elegantly with a lopsided smirk, ‘doesn't our stage pass by that new cattle railroad to St Joseph?'

‘Why yes, it surely does, Jane,' the fat man replied through greasy lips. ‘Passes within a couple of miles in fact, some time tomorrow morning.'

‘Well there we are!' cried Marie, clapping her hands. ‘We need entertainment and she needs a lift!'

‘Ah ha!' said Timothy brightly. ‘Yes! Belinda, you didn't seem too condemnatory of old Lord Raven's carry on last night. Perhaps if you joined in some rather modern games with us in the coach we'd be inclined to pay your passage to within walking distance of a train that'll take you to all them wagons in about two days. How about it?'

Belinda allowed a grin to slowly spread across her face as she looked at his handsome features. She also felt Jane's thigh press harder against her own.

‘Yes, please,' she whispered demurely, looking forward to a stagecoach ride in the right direction and many sessions of cards and I-Spy and the like. If the fun flagged she would entertain them with a selection of songs, both traditional and modern.

Oliver startled everyone by giving a whoop of joy at her response, and throwing himself backwards against his chair as he did so. Unfortunately he had forgotten they were sitting on benches, not chairs, and a look of shock crossed his face as he fell flat on his back on the floor.

His companions and Belinda looked worried for a moment until they saw he was unhurt. Then they all exploded into hysterical guffaws and shrieks of laughter. Oliver, still laying flat on his back, tried to glare at them but then he too had to burst out laughing…

The stage thundered along through the lower passes of the Appalachians, a most uncomfortable mode of travel. At first the group was sleepy from the heavy lunchtime drinking and they mainly dozed for the first couple of hours. Then, realising they were wasting precious Belinda-time, they had tried to play strip poker, a game Belinda had never heard of but had agreed to try to learn, but the cards kept bouncing all over the place and off the makeshift table they had made out of a leather valise balanced on their knees.

‘Somebody ought to invent playing cards that can be used under these adverse conditions,' observed Marie as she passed the gin bottle to Belinda.

‘Should be quite easy really,' sniffed Oliver. ‘They just have to put thin magnets on the backs of each card and you use a metal plate to play on. Simple.'

‘You are a cretin, Ollie!' laughed Timothy, flicking whisky into his friend's face. ‘Magnets on the back? All the cards would stick together, you'd never be able to deal them or fan them or…'

‘I'm getting sexy,' interrupted Jane, looking at Belinda as she took the gin bottle from her. Belinda blinked with surprise at that, but her clitoris twitched involuntarily, causing her to blush at her own reaction. ‘Can't we have the strip without bothering about the poker?' continued Jane. ‘It's just nicely squashed in here. We could take it in turns to stand up and let the others have a good feel. Me first!'

And up jumped blonde Jane, standing in the tight space between the facing seats. The two men were on one side, and Marie and Belinda were on the other.

‘Oh, I don't know, Jane,' sighed Marie. ‘We've got each other forever, but we've only got Belinda for a couple of days. I say she stands up first.'

‘Oh yes, why not?' said Jane pleasantly, and sat down again.

Belinda had been following the last few remarks with some astonishment and trepidation.

‘I'll be master of ceremonies,' announced Oliver, and when nobody objected he continued, ‘First of all, for greater comfort for us as well as heightened pleasure for the ladies, all gentlemen herein assembled are to get their cocks out.'

And the two Boston women watched excitedly as first Timothy and then Oliver undid their large fly buttons and opened their trousers wide. Belinda was too taken aback and embarrassed to say or do anything except stare as Tim and Oliver, after much rummaging around, produced two powerful penises. They were both very big but Timothy's was pale and circumcised whilst Oliver's was dark and quite thick in diameter.

The women watched as each man masturbated slowly for a few seconds, and then Oliver continued, ‘Marie and Jane, you are both so sexy that my cock wants to see every bit of you right now. Slip off those dresses please or I'll throw you to the driver.'

Belinda, by now reluctant to tear her eyes from those handsome and wealthy pricks, nonetheless turned around to watch Jane and Marie. There was no room for them both to stand up, so they took it in turns to hoist their long dresses to their waists, kneel up on the hard bench seat and pull the gowns off over their heads. Both women had beautiful figures and, Belinda was pleased to note, like her they wore nothing underneath. She was now quite content with the turn of events, as she saw no harm in watching the behaviour of these strange Americans, especially as they didn't involve her. She could easily convince herself – and often did – that it was only wrong if you actually did something with someone else. But watching and, in private, masturbating, were entirely different matters.

Marie and Jane now sat naked on the narrow seat. Marie's nipples were strong and dark brown, which contrasted nicely with Jane's which were soft and bright pink. Marie fondled her own breasts as she looked at Belinda while Jane licked a middle finger, slipped it inside herself and made little moaning noises. Belinda watched with a small smile, as that of an old lady tolerating some high-spirited but harmless urchins. She was trying to ignore the tingling that was developing in the region at the top of her thighs.

‘Excellent, ladies!' cried Oliver. ‘Keep our guest entertained while Tim and I explore her hinterland. Stand up girl!' he added sharply to Belinda, whose face drained of colour.

‘I'm sorry?' she asked coolly.

‘On your feet, woman!' he repeated with some annoyance, his face turning almost as purple as the tip of his cock.

‘I don't think you quite understand,' retorted Belinda. ‘I don't mind what you all do for fun, but I'm not inclined to join in. I did, after all, come to America in search of a new start in life.'

‘So you used to do this sort of thing back in merry old England, then?' Tim put in quickly and perceptively.

‘Ah ha!' cried Oliver with a fat grin. ‘What d'you say to that, then?'

‘I'm sorry, I don't have to say anything,' stammered Belinda, blushing violently and briskly removing Jane's hand from her leg.

‘I think we'd better get the driver to stop,' snarled Marie. ‘English women obviously don't know the meaning of the word gratitude. If she can't stand a little bit of fun in return for a ride and a meal and lodging then it's best she gets out and walks.'

‘Hear bloody hear!' jeered Oliver whilst Tim and Jane made similar noises of agreement.

Belinda was horrified at the thought of being dumped in the passing wilderness. She hesitated.

‘Oh, come on old girl,' wheedled Tim. ‘Just as far as the next coach house. You can stay overnight and tomorrow you can do what you like. How's that sound?'

Belinda considered. She sighed. She nodded. She had little choice. She stood up and faced the ladies, to raucous cheers and whoops from her new friends.

Jane and Marie played their part with gusto. Each one leant back as much as possible and gazed into Belinda's face whilst playing with their breasts and stroking their thighs with extravagant movements.

Belinda gasped with surprise as she felt a hand at each of her ankles. Glancing quickly behind she saw that Tim was starting to tickle her legs. Her knees banged involuntarily together at the sensation of the two hands stroking their way up towards her thighs. Standing inside the lurching stagecoach, looking down on two beautiful girls masturbating whilst a handsome man's hands stroked their way up her inner thigh, it was not surprising that Belinda should secretly feel, for the first time in a couple of years, that she was approaching heaven. Her morals had been suspended due to the overwhelming nature of her plight and circumstances, and when Timothy finally grasped her vagina from behind, pressing the flat of his hand hard against it whilst his middle finger drummed against her jumping clitoris, she knew she was truly in paradise. She moaned and abandoned all her mental resistance.

By the time Jane and then Marie had also enjoyed a turn at putting their hands up Belinda's dress to fondle and tickle her concealed sex she was almost delirious with desire.

‘Oh my god! Oh my god!' she heard Timothy groan, and when she turned around she saw he was masturbating faster and faster, his lust having taken control of his willpower. With the speed of an experienced member of an emergency service, Oliver whipped out a large white linen handkerchief and spread it over Timothy's shirt to protect it, and Belinda, inflamed, turned to face Timothy and pulled her dress up to her waist exposing herself fully for the first time since she had met this group. Her lovely triangle of dark hair glistened deliciously and the burning sensation all around it increased as Timothy groaned intensely. The speed of his fist accelerated furiously and in a few seconds he roared, arched his back and shot powerfully. His pure white seed spat into the air. Some landed on the thoughtfully positioned kerchief, whilst even more splattered into Belinda's cleavage and in her hair. At the same moment she spun around to see Jane and Marie bring themselves to simultaneous orgasms.

The two ladies slumped in their seats. Tim's penis throbbed slowly downwards, stopping at half mast. Only Oliver's powerful piece remained ready to give Belinda that which she was in little condition to resist. He smiled up at her as he fingered himself. ‘I do hope you don't mind, dear girl,' he smiled, ‘but it's now time to give you a good hard shagging.'

‘I, um, don't really want to go that far…' she stammered in alarm.

‘And you ain't going to get very far with that attitude neither,' sneered Oliver. ‘You'd rather get out and walk?'

On the obese side though he was, there was nothing intrinsically wrong with Oliver's looks, and certainly nothing wrong with his long broad prick. And anyway, the overwhelming sexual lust that had temporarily taken control of Belinda's body and soul would have made even that awful innkeeper acceptable at this point in time. She sighed inwardly; she told her conscience she had tried to be good but everything was stacked against her and she begged forgiveness. She nodded as Oliver started to stand.

‘And I want you from behind,' he whispered wickedly.

Belinda no longer cared as long as he got it over with, but there were practical considerations to be borne in mind.

‘But there's no room…' she breathed, unable to complete the sentence.

But Oliver was on his feet, balancing himself against the swaying carriage wherever he could get a grip. He took hold of Belinda and roughly manoeuvred her to face the door. Then he bent her forward so her top half went out through the open window and was exposed to the rushing air, the dust, the grit, the noise and the dizzy sensation of the ground dashing past at close quarters.

She felt her dress being raised again at the back and then a lovely warm feeling as his cock lay in the valley of her pillowy white bottom. The driver glanced backwards and down as she caught his eye, and she had enough self-possession to find it gratifying that he did not know what was going on inside.

He looked forward again and cracked the whip over the horses. This triggered a conditioned response in Belinda, and her already wet vagina felt like it was flooding. There was a sharp pressure from behind and Oliver's enormous tool shot between her legs and into her. Once inside he moved back and forth viciously, the powerfully sized prick filling her more than she could remember ever having been filled by that groom. And the overwhelmingly beautiful sensation in her clitoris as the head of that superb cock slid up and down contrasted deliciously with the crippling pain across her stomach where Oliver's weight pressed her down against the window frame of the door as the world flew by oblivious to what Belinda was experiencing.