Belinda (21 page)

With the first blow she jerked forward and her breasts squashed into the apex of Salmacis' thighs. What had hit her she knew not, but the pain was terrible. The second strike dragged a scream from her lungs. From their rapid delivery she guessed that both nuns were beating her with individual implements. Tears sprung from her tightly clenched eyes and dampened the habit beneath her flushed cheek. The blows continued, and all the time the hands caressed her hair. The bizarre contrast between affection and brutality made her emotions spin. She gripped the habit even tighter in her fists until the colour drained from her knuckles.

Gradually, through waves of conflicting emotions, Belinda became aware of a tiny swelling beneath her cheek. What it could be she had no idea, but the size and pressure was definitely increasing steadily. So distracted was she by it that she did not realise the punishment had ceased until she heard Salmacis dismiss the two nuns in a tone charged with emotion. The door opened and closed for the second time, and the room was left still and quiet.

‘Belinda,' Salmacis whispered, ‘we are alone.' The pressure of the thighs increased and the hands left her hair. ‘We have a few moments together before I must take evening chapel.'

Belinda didn't know what to expect next, and decided it would be safest to remain curled up and quiet. The heat from the lump beneath the habit was getting stronger against her face. She became aware of the black habit being tugged up.

‘Although you are a promiscuous sinner,' continued Salmacis, ‘I will allow you to rest in my house for tonight.' The habit inched higher. ‘But I expect you to be gone by first light.'

‘Thank you,' whispered Belinda into the dense fabric.

‘And in return you will now show your gratitude. I have little time, so make haste.'

‘But what do you want of me?'

Suddenly the habit was tugged away and a relatively small but stiffly erect penis sprang against her lips. Belinda shrieked with horror, but a hand instantly clamped over her mouth to silence her. As she relaxed slightly the hand cautiously released its hold, but the hairy thighs maintained their embrace.

‘Do not be alarmed!' hissed the freak as he cupped her cheeks and stared into her wide eyes. ‘Yes – I am a man! And because I need to dress as a woman I have been pilloried and run out of more towns than you could ever imagine!'

Belinda couldn't speak. Never before in her life had she seen or heard of such a thing.

‘My nuns know what I am – and they still love me.' Once Salmacis could see she wasn't going to scream or struggle he continued. ‘I see in your eyes great compassion, Belinda.' One hand slipped furtively to the back of her head and pressed so gently she barely noticed. ‘I sensed it the instant I first set eyes on you. Do not forsake me out of ignorance. Do not forsake me like all the others.' As Belinda continued to stare confusedly up into the hypnotic eyes the other hand gripped the base of the rigid cock and aimed it at her slightly parted lips. ‘Do not reject me, Belinda…'

The pressure increased further and Belinda's astonished face sank until her nose nestled in thick curly hair. Her mouth was filled with stiff flesh and his male musk invaded her nostrils.

‘That feels good, child,' croaked Salmacis as he lifted and lowered her head. ‘Use your feminine magic on me. Prove to me your compassion – time is short.'

Utterly bewildered, Belinda sucked and licked instinctively. The room was now filled with her wet sounds and his heavy panting. Her face was lifted and lowered time and time again. Her lips slid tightly up and down the shaft, and little pools of saliva dribbled down to his balls.

From next door came the muted sounds of the young nuns gathering in the chapel for evening service.

‘You are doing well, child… you will soon be rewarded.' With that he pushed her back onto her haunches and grappled frantically with the buttons of her blouse. She knelt without emotion as he tugged and pulled at her. When open he ripped the blouse free from her skirt, pulled her forward roughly, and moulded her perspiring breasts around his standing erection. ‘Now…' he hissed, his bloodshot eyes bulging demonically. ‘Here comes your reward for having faith in me… I shall anoint you.' He stabbed his hips at her a few times and then spat his seed into her cleavage. A second barrage spattered her throat and chin, from where it dripped back onto her sensitive breasts. His thighs almost squeezed the very breath from her lungs as he arched and quelled a scream of undiluted passion. Belinda knelt, unmoving and devoid of feeling, as he used his deflating penis to smooth his cream over her breasts and nipples.

Gradually Salmacis subsided into the throne and regained his composure. He arrogantly wiped his small penis on her silk blouse and straightened his habit as though nothing had happened between them at all. ‘Very good. You may return to your cell. You will find soap and water and food there.' He grinned sardonically. ‘Never let it be said that we at the Convent of the Sisters of Little Mercy are not hospitable.' Belinda stood and walked to the door without a word. As she opened it Salmacis casually called after her, ‘Remember, you are to be gone before first light. And if you tell any one of what has gone this evening I will know and will personally hunt you down and kill you.'

Belinda was drowning, caught in a fast current flowing between sheer rock walls, just thirty minutes after leaving the irregular convent.

She had emerged into the approaching dawn unhindered by any of the nuns, and was annoyed to see that her horse was still where she had tethered it by the well, in spite of the nun's promise that someone would attend to it. She picked up a dry rock and hurled it at the white wall in anger and frustration. It crumbled ineffectively into dust upon impact.

Using the rising sun as a navigational aid, she had found that she did not need to return to the main trail that she had followed across Death Valley, but could continue her journey by following the track alongside a river gorge. She knew she needed to be on the other side of that tight ravine, and was pleased to see a small bridge just ahead.

Halfway across the span, with the foaming water flowing briskly twenty feet below, the horse suddenly whinnied and reared up. Belinda too gave a shriek as she saw a coiled snake immediately ahead, its head raised and its hideous rattle vibrating threateningly. The panic-stricken horse tried to turn on the tight bridge as it reared, and before she could react Belinda found herself sliding off its back over the parapet and into the torrent below.

Now she cursed the heavy riding skirt as its weight kept dragging her down every time she fought her way to the surface to gulp some air. Her boots didn't help either, and the confusion and spinning of her body made it impossible for her to get rid of those hindrances.

She knew she was finally about to die when she felt an iron-like hand thrust between her thighs and grip her crotch. Another clamped onto her left breast and twisted agonisingly. They could not be real, just a deadly delirium caused by lack of air and too much water, and she emitted a terrified sob. Even in her last moments her imagination was subjecting her to one final abuse. Just as she prepared to release her slim grasp on life itself she was hauled to the surface and dragged against the side of a large canoe. The hands adjusted their position and supported her under the arms, and she looked up into the beaming face of a giant with a mass of shocking red hair. The freezing water swamped her again and she fought to breathe as an identical but slightly smaller giant joined the other and beamed down, before they effortlessly dragged her over the side of the vessel and spilled her into the bottom. She lay coughing and spluttering for some time, gasping to fill her burning lungs and not daring to believe that she had really been saved.

‘Howdy!' shouted the bigger redhead over the roar of the river with a broad grin as if it was all one jolly game. ‘Glad you could join us!'

Belinda crouched low, her shoulders and breasts heaving and her soaking clothes stuck to her like a second skin. The couple grabbed their oars and soon had control of the canoe again as it raced and pitched along with the flow.

‘My horse!' she suddenly blurted. ‘Did my horse get away?' She looked up at the larger of the two redheads, paddling from the rear of the canoe, and realised it was a woman!

‘Don't you worry yourself, honey!' the female mountain bellowed back. ‘Skedaddled soon as you hit the water!'

That news cheered Belinda a little. Very slowly her breathing calmed and she began to feel better. Despite the wet clothing she was warmed by the rising sun. She knelt up and watched her two saviours navigate the small craft with fascinating ease and skill through the maze of treacherous and slime-covered rocks jutting out of the roaring torrent. ‘Thank you for saving me!' she shouted, but the woman just grinned and said nothing.

A few miles further downstream the river widened out and calmed considerably. They drifted on in the morning sun, boosted occasionally as the paddles dipped into the refreshing looking water. They were towing a second canoe that was piled high with furs. Here it was easy to communicate without shouting.

‘Where are you going?' asked Belinda.

‘Down river,' said the female trapper. As yet the man had not uttered a sound.

‘Anywhere near a place called Los Angeles?' asked Belinda, without any real hope.

‘Yep,' said the woman, and then she spat lazily into the river as Belinda's face brightened. ‘We stay with this ditch as far as the sea at Pedra Bay. Los Angeles is a few miles north of there, maybe a day's walk. Don't know what you want to go there for though, goddam no-hope dump.' The tough but handsomely attractive female saw her studying the cargo canoe. ‘Yep, honey, we're trappers, me and that dumb-ass who calls himself my brother.' The man at the front gave a high-pitched and almost childlike giggle without taking his eyes from the river ahead. ‘Our fur gets sent to the finest cities all over Europe,' added the female. ‘Worn by all the rich, it is.'

Belinda had nothing to say, so she just watched the water gently lapping against the side of the canoe and allowed it to soothe her further – excited by the thought that she was almost at her goal. She tried to imagine what her Uncle Albert might look like, and smiled at the idea that he was at that very moment going about his daily affairs completely oblivious of the fact that his niece from Liverpool in England was about to drop in on him. The smile widened as she imagined the joy at the meeting and saw herself being warmly welcomed by his homely wife and excited children.

‘My name's Hannah,' the female interrupted her happy reverie. ‘And that great lump there,' she nodded forward at her brother, ‘is Hank.' He giggled again. It seemed everything his sister said was funny.

‘Belinda,' she smiled. ‘My name's Belinda.'

Silence fell over the canoe again, broken only by the surrounding sounds of nature and the occasional dip of the paddle breaking the surface of the clear water.

After a short while the two turned the vessels into a small grassy cove. In no time Hannah had collected driftwood and built and lit a fire on the bank while Hank waded around hunting fish. His stealth for a big man was surprising, and Belinda watched him for a while with fascination.

‘Best get those damp clothes off you before you catch a chill,' said Hannah once she was happy the fire had established itself and had hung a pot of coffee over it. Belinda wrapped her arms around herself bashfully.

‘Oh, I think I'm all right. They're nearly dry now.'

‘Don't be silly,' said Hannah, standing. ‘Last thing you want is to get a fever way out here.' She scanned their surroundings in a way that made Belinda shiver. ‘I've seen folk a lot tougher than you die in hours for not paying this land enough respect.'

Belinda checked to see where Hank was; he had waded around a piece of jutting rock. ‘Well… perhaps you're right.' She gingerly undid the top button of her blouse. ‘But I have nothing to wear while they're drying.'

‘No problem,' smiled Hannah. ‘We got a canoe full of furs to hide your blushes and keep you warm.' She stepped close to Belinda, who would have backed away had it not been for Hannah gently but firmly gripping her wrists. At this close proximity her odour was quite overpowering. ‘Here,' said the big woman, ‘let me.'

‘Th-thank you,' stammered Belinda, ‘but I can manage.'

‘I said, let me.'

Belinda fell silent and allowed her hands to be pulled down to her sides. She knew it was pointless to argue.

Hannah stared with little expression as each button popped and more and more of the shadowy cleavage was revealed to her. When all the buttons were undone she left the blouse tucked into the skirt and slipped it off Belinda's smooth shoulders. Her calloused hands rubbed Belinda's sensitive flesh as they moved down her arms. Both females remained silent. The blouse was lowered until it gathered around Belinda's elbows, and there Hannah left it. Belinda's movements were restricted, and her firm damp breasts were exposed to Hannah's lusty gaze and desires.

‘I think Hank's taken a liking to you,' Hannah said as her great hands reached slowly up for Belinda's breasts. Her face lowered and her lips pressed against Belinda's. Belinda gasped into the mouth as her breasts were cupped and weighed. A wet tongue wormed into her mouth. Fingers pinched her nipples. Belinda was dumbstruck; was everybody in this country wandering around in a permanent state of sexual arousal looking for someone to seduce? At the same time her spinning thoughts were trying to fathom how Hannah had come to such a conclusion about her brother; he had barely looked at Belinda, and had certainly not spoken to her.