Belinda (12 page)

‘Right, Charlie,' whispered Ruth, ‘you may begin…'

Belinda howled at the terrible shock of the cane lashing across her thighs. She begged for mercy with tear-filled eyes, but the kneeling woman merely smiled down at her enigmatically. She felt Charlie adjust her legs a little wider, and then the cane struck repeatedly.

As her husband set about those exquisitely formed limbs, Ruth inched her hips forward and smothered the girl's pleas beneath her cotton underwear. Her knuckles nudged those hot, tearstained cheeks as she opened the ingenious gusset and settled her inflamed sex over the girl's lovely mouth. She didn't need to utter instructions, because every time the cane whooshed and slashed the frantic mouth twitched and kissed and licked. It wasn't the most refined performance of cunnilingus she had ever experienced, but it was one of the most enjoyable.

Belinda lost count of the blows, but there must have been around thirty delivered before Ruth shrieked and ground herself harder against her abused mouth, and slumped panting and moaning on top of her. She hoped the couple were finished, but was quickly disappointed.

Ruth relaxed and squirmed against Belinda until their lips met. She kissed her new toy gently, and manoeuvred her slightly on the desk. Belinda felt something press persistently into her cheek. She opened her eyes, fearing the worst. Her head was close to the edge of the desk, and Charlie had his penis in his fist and was masturbating silently but determinedly against her flushed face. Belinda whimpered as Ruth eased her head to the side and used her fingers to peel her moist lips apart. She took a deep breath and watched the shiny plum move closer. A little liquid dribbled from the tip as she felt it stretch her lips even wider and then slide beyond her teeth and deep into her vulnerable mouth. She followed Ruth's whispered instructions and sucked as best she could. She could taste his saltiness. Fingers pinched and coaxed her nipples. Others stroked her hair. Heavy balls swung against her chin, and she was engulfed by his humid groin and Ruth's feverish lips kissing her perspiring face. The thick shaft grew ever more rigid and throbbed urgently against the back of her throat. Belinda knew he was close, and prepared to swallow what promised to be a copious eruption. He grunted and stiffened. Ruth hissed triumphantly. Belinda braced herself – but he suddenly withdrew and splattered his seed onto her trembling breasts. Ruth hastily sucked greedily on Belinda's erect nipples and massaged her husband's ejaculation into the soft mounds of flesh. Charlie fell upon the shell-shocked girl, and the husband and wife each devoured a breast as though she was a sumptuous feast and they were near starvation. Belinda closed her eyes and readied herself for whatever else they chose to do to her. But gradually their fervour seemed to wane, and after a short while their attentions ceased altogether. Ruth put her dress back on and helped Belinda stand and straighten her own clothing, and Charlie resumed his place behind the desk. Belinda wondered why they had not gone further, and if pressed would have had to admit to being just a little disappointed.

‘She'll do,' Ruth confirmed again, the passion still evident in her voice.

Charlie nodded. ‘Next time, Belinda,' he said huskily whilst fastening his trousers, ‘we'll have more time, and then we'll have some
real
fun.'

After that introductory session Belinda was whisked away by a friendlier Ruth to a nearby lodging house for the night. She was excited at Ruth's having given her three nearly new gowns and some exotic underwear, and luxuriated in a hot bath whilst the kindly but solemn landlady poured water over her and helped her rub heavenly soap into every nook of her body. Belinda got the distinct impression that the landlady was thoroughly enjoying this task, but was beyond caring about such minor matters. She had been told to report back to the saloon – the Crazy Horn – early the next evening when there would be some rewarding work awaiting.

When she duly arrived at the appointed hour she was excited and happy, and this, together with her revealingly low-cut red velvet gown and her hair arranged in dangling ringlets, was enough to silence the bedlam of the bar when she walked in. Blushing radiantly at the cacophony of whistles and lewd remarks that broke the stunned silence, she was immediately rescued by Ruth, who, after complimenting her beauty most highly, took her by the arm and led her to a table in a corner.

A man was sitting there and he rose to greet her with great courtesy.

‘Sheriff,' cooed Ruth with a sweetness that didn't really suit her, ‘this is Belinda. Ain't she something?' Turning to Belinda she said, ‘Belinda, darling, this is our very own Sheriff, Sheriff Hanglin. He gets well paid to protect this town and he's a generous man to those he takes a shine to.' With that she winked at the Sheriff, gave Belinda an embarrassing pat on her backside, and flounced away.

The Sheriff was a sinister figure. Dressed in a black suit and wide-brimmed hat, his high-cheekboned face was spattered with deep pock marks below his cold eyes. His black moustache was long and drooped down below his jaw on either side of thin lips. Belinda cautiously eyed his silver star marked
Sheriff
, and his belt full of bullets and the gun on each hip. He said nothing, but simply stared at her with narrow eyes that gave little away.

Belinda was just wondering whether to speak, or sit, or something, when he spoke.

‘You ready to get to work, girl?' he asked in a quiet, metallic voice that sent a small shiver down her spine.

‘Oh… yes, sir,' she replied more brightly than she felt. ‘What sort of a task did you have in mind?'

‘Well, how's about you giving my riding equipment a real good polish?'

‘Oh, I'm very good at that!' she exclaimed happily. ‘I used to love doing my father's and brother's…' her voice trailed off as she remembered happier days.

The Sheriff chuckled grimly. ‘Sounds like my kind of girl. Let's get, then.'

‘What, now?' said Belinda. ‘I mean, I'm not really dressed for that sort of thing.'

The Sheriff chuckled again. ‘You're dressed just fine,' he said, picking up his riding crop from the table. ‘Come on.'

Belinda followed him across the bar, noting how each group of drunks fell silent as he passed. To her surprise, instead of heading for the main door, he led her up the stairs to the first floor landing. She followed him into a room and he closed the door behind her. It was small, smelly, and sparsely furnished with just an upright chair, a small cupboard, and a bed, all of which were revealed when he struck a match and lit the paraffin lamp.

From the cupboard he took a silver canister and removed the lid. He handed it to Belinda, who looked a little puzzled.

‘Saddle soap,' he said easily.

‘Oh, dubbin!' she cried with happy recognition. She dipped her fingers into the slippery white wax and felt it ooze between them. ‘Right-oh,' she said, feeling a little happier now, ‘if you'll just show me your riding equipment I'll get started.'

She knew she should have know better, and cursed her naivety when he patted the front of his trousers, revealing the shape of a very large erection. Her spirits plummeted again as she stood there, red-faced, and watched him casually undo his trousers and pull out an exceptionally large penis. He stared at her and arrogantly stroked it a few times.

‘Come here,' he ordered.

With a growing feeling of misery and disillusionment, Belinda obeyed. He was the sort that few would defy.

As she stood in front of him, feeling his erection pulsating against her belly through the gown, she mustered one last stand of defiance.

‘I'm sorry,' she said with a coolness she didn't really feel, ‘but I must ask you to put that away and show me your riding equipment, or I shall be forced to call the management.'

That was the funniest, if not the only funny thing, he had ever heard, judging by the roar of laughter that escaped his wooden face. But as quickly as it came the mirth was gone. He gripped her delicate hand, pressed it to the offending erection, and squeezed her cool fingers around its considerable girth.

‘This,' he said in a level tone, ‘is my riding equipment. It's what I use for riding pretty girls like you. Now, you want to earn some good money or not?'

Belinda did not simply
want
to earn some good money, she simply
had
to. She wrestled with her conscience – but only very briefly. Once she'd made enough money to get out of that town she would never ever do such things again – she promised herself.

Too choked with shame and other negative emotions, she could not bring herself to admit defeat by saying yes, but signalled her servility by humbly lowering her gaze and giving his powerful column one long slow stroke.

‘Good girl,' he said with an air that suggested he expected nothing less. ‘The better you perform, the quicker you get rich,' he chuckled unnecessarily. ‘Now, let's get on without any further nonsense, shall we?' With that he guided her hand into the gaping shadows of his trousers and made her cup his balls. They were large and heavy, and Belinda dreaded to think how much they contained. As she tentatively explored them his erection throbbed along her forearm like a sleeping serpent. The skin on the huge purple helmet was stretched taut and shone like polished marble, and he opened her free hand and placed it in the damp palm as though giving her a present. He coolly eyed her flushed face and nervously swelling breasts as he removed his gun belt and dropped his trousers. He then removed his jacket and shirt, and stood before her in only his hat and boots.

‘Come on, you've had your fun,' he said. ‘Now get polishing.'

His requirements were obvious – even to Belinda – so she picked up the tin of saddle soap, scooped out a thick dollop, and coated it liberally onto his waiting penis. He grunted a little and his greased stalk pulsed appreciatively as she worked, rubbing her fist up and down and all around. She became absorbed in her task and, as was her nature, toiled to the best of her ability. The rearing stalk became smoother and shinier as more and more of the glutinous stuff was worked into it, and he was clearly becoming more and more aroused. At last the canister was empty, and the Sheriff's erection looked and felt like a large candle.

Belinda looked up at him, and thought for a split second she detected just the slightest flicker of emotion in his stony black eyes. She allowed him to take the empty canister from her and place it on the chair, and then stood stoically as he grasped her breasts and mauled them through the soft velvet dress. There was no finesse about the man, and Belinda knew he was only intent on pleasing himself.

‘Looks to me like you done a good job there.' His broad chest rose and fell heavily before he continued. ‘Guess I should take it for a ride and try it out… Get your dress off, and kneel by the bed.'

He watched without expression as the beauty stripped to her corset, drawers, and stockings, and then obediently knelt like a child saying her bedtime prayers. Her protests were without conviction or hope as he forced her onto all fours and positioned her cheek on the mattress so she wouldn't move forward.

Her morals had been temporarily neutralised by her need to earn money in a good cause, which made it easier for her to feel a hint of pleasure as she felt him kneel behind her, tug down her drawers, and rest that rather fine specimen between her buttocks.

Sheriff Hanglin began to move his slick member up and down, and each stroke brought its massive head lower and lower until it was bumping against her pudenda. He shuffled nearer so his groin pressed against her bottom, forcing her face into the deep mattress and his penis firmly against her clitoris. Belinda could not suppress the surge of excitement at the intimate caress.

Then with the slightest thrust he was inside her, and her mouth gaped in unison with his long slow entry. Eventually he was fully embedded, and Belinda bit the musty bedspread to smother her scream of joy.

But he did not move once he was in. He waited a few seconds and then said, ‘Now then young lady, gallop!'

Since Belinda was in no position to move she did nothing. She heard him grunt and then there was a movement and an agonising crack as his riding crop struck the side of her thigh. She screamed and jumped.

‘That's better!' he rasped as her vagina milked his penis. ‘Now gallop!'

Still Belinda could not move significantly. Her face and shoulders were squashed into the bed and his weight pressed down on her. But she knew the whip would not be long in cutting her flesh again if she did not please him, so she twisted and ground her bottom back against his solid and unmoving belly. The whip clattered to the floor and he reached beneath her and weighed her breasts in one hand and stroked her clitoris with the other. Belinda rolled her head, and he responded to her sensual gyrations by thrusting into her with increasing urgency. Fingers dug into her hips and the room was filled with the sound of his groin slapping against her buttocks. As the beautiful orgasm quickly washed through her straining and perspiring body Sheriff Hanglin roared and erupted copiously. Belinda stiffened as he filled her again and again, and then slowly relaxed into the bed as she felt his intensity lessen and his wet and deflating penis slip away.

He gave her a one dollar banknote. She was astonished to realise that up to now she had had no contact with American money. ‘What's this?' she asked as they dressed.