by A. Anders
Belle couldn’t explain the feeling she got pressing her young breasts against his manly chest. It was exhilarating. Even more than that was the feeling of his stiff manhood pushing against her belly. She could feel the flesh between her legs twitch at the sensation. She wanted so badly for Trudeau to touch her down there. But it was not with his fingers that she wanted it. It was with his manhood.
Needing to be closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and climbed up his body. Kissing him harder, she felt every sensation as the tip of his horn traveled down her body. Subtly spreading her legs, it sprung out grazing her swollen flesh. The sensation made her convulse. It was a better feeling than she had had in her life. It took her a moment to recover from it but when she did, she knew she needed more.
Almost feral from his touch, she loosened her grip from around his neck. It lowered her onto him. The tip of his horn slid across her flesh and then stopped. It had halted on her hole. This was where her pleasure was greatest.
She lowered herself causing herself pain. It wasn’t something that she wanted to avoid, though. It was a pain that somehow felt good. She asked for more of this pain as she lowered herself further. And when the pushing became almost too much, she felt a prick followed by the feeling of being filled by him.
Belle wasn’t sure what was going on but she liked it. The boy she loved was actually inside of her. There was no way that she could get closer to him than this. She was willing to stay like this forever.
That didn’t seem to be Trudeau’s plan, though. He pulled his hips back as if trying to pull himself out. Belle stood disappointed by his retraction and then was equally elated when her love’s manhood reversed its retreat and penetrated her again.
The feeling of this was beyond anything imaginable. At once, the sensation paralyzed her and set her mind free. Feeling Trudeau’s wonderful manhood pushing and pulling against her inside, her mind tumbled into depths it had never gone before. Her body tingled all over and the inside of her tightened with a new type of pain that felt good. The whole thing was becoming too much for her but she didn’t want him to stop.
As the rumbling built inside of her, Belle was feeling the impulse to scream. It felt so good that she wanted the world to know. She felt out of control. It was like she was tumbling towards the depths of pleasure. She couldn’t think of anything but what would happen next.
When Belle couldn’t contain it anymore, she latched her legs around her fiancé’s body and let out a piercing shriek. A wave of pleasure washed over her like warm honey. She was in ecstasy. Her moment was only interrupted when Trudeau let out a bellow of his own. He had enjoyed what they had done as much as she had.
It was quickly after that that Trudeau mercifully stopped his gentle thrusting. Belle just wanted to hold him and be as close to him as she could be. He seemed to be fine with that and she could have stayed in his embrace forever. A rustling within the brush next to the stream interrupted the two, though. Trudeau was the first to look around, but Belle soon released her love and turned as well.
“What was it?” Belle asked slowly losing the courage she had felt only moments ago.
“I don’t know. It could have been an animal,” Trudeau whispered.
“Do you think we should get out just in case?” Belle suggested.
“Maybe we should.”
Belle released Trudeau. To her surprise, his manhood was no longer inside of her. She hadn’t felt him take it out. And as she glanced at him as he left the stream, she was surprised to find that his horn was no longer as stiff as it once was.
The whole thing amazed Belle. She couldn’t wait to become his wife and be with him all day and all night. The pleasure she had just experienced with him was the greatest of her young life. She didn’t regret anything she had done with her fiancé and thought only of when she could do it again.
Once the two got dressed, they returned to the blanket and each other’s arms. They lay together and talked for what had to have been hours. When the bread and cheese were long gone and Belle had had all of the wine that she could handle, they decided to call it a day.
“Tomorrow I have to leave with Mr. Lafleur on a business trip. He has found a new territory that he would like us to explore. I will be gone a week but when I come back, I will have a ring. With it, I will ask your father for your hand in marriage. And, as soon as he gives his permission, I want to marry you, Belle. Is that okay with you?” Trudeau asked vulnerably.
“I would like that very much,” Belle said staring into Trudeau’s light eyes. “But why wait for the ring? If you ask my father tonight, he will say yes. I know he will. He loves you as much as I do. He already thinks of you as his son.”
“And I love him like the father I never had. We will be the greatest family together. But I want you both to have this moment. I want you to have a ring and I want it to be official.”
“Rings are what the people do in the city. They aren’t us, Trudeau. You don’t have to worry about that with my father.”
“But I want to do this. I want something that will show the whole world just how much I love you. I want something that tells them that you belong to me and that I belong to you.”
Belle stared at her loving fiancé. A ring wasn’t important to her but she could see that it was important to him.
“Then go with Mr. Lafleur. I will count down the moments until you’re back. And when you are, I will be the happiest girl in the world knowing that I will have the most caring and thoughtful husband ever.”
Belle kissed her fiancé’s lips again and then collected her things and headed home. On the walk back, she considered what she had done with her fiancé. Feeling him inside of her truly was the greatest sensation of her life. She felt giddy thinking about it. She thought about the smell of him and the way he felt in her arms. She felt like singing as she considered how lucky she was to have a man like Trudeau in her life.
“Belle?” Her father asked as she reentered their home. “Where have you been?”
“With Trudeau, Papa. He is simply the most wonderful man that I have ever met. I want him to be my husband, Papa.”
“And I’m sure he will ask you. You just have to be patient, my darling. Trudeau is a good man. He will make you a good husband. And as wonderful as you are, I am sure that you will make him a good wife,” her father said with a smile and a hug.
When Belle woke up the next morning, she was still on a high. Getting dressed, she knew she had errands to run. She was running low on flour and her father needed mulberries to make paint for his cuckoo clocks. Her father was the finest clockmaker outside of Paris. It was a wonder that he chose to live so far from his best customers. But ever since Belle’s mother had died, her father claimed that a hamlet like theirs would be the only place that wouldn’t drown him in the memory of his lost love.
As much as Belle thought that city life would better agree with her, she was fine with living the country life as long as it made her father happy. As nice as everyone was, it was a little tough on Belle, though. The idea of girls reading was a foreign concept to her neighbors. Belle couldn’t understand why. How could any of them believe that the only place for a girl was in the kitchen or in service to a man? That wasn’t how Belle was raised and she thanked her father every day that she wasn’t.
“Good morning, Mrs. Oakes. Good morning, Mrs. Embers,” Belle said passing her two neighbors as she headed to the shop. “What a glorious morning, isn’t it?” Belle didn’t think much about how her smile wasn’t returned. She often thought about how grumpy many of the women in her village were.
Belle entered the shop and spotted Mr. and Mrs. Cannon. “Good morning, Mr. Cannon. Good morning, Mrs. Cannon. Isn’t it just a wonderful day?”
“Why yes, Belle. It is,” Mr. Cannon replied.
“For some of us God fearing folks, it is. I can’t imagine how wonderful it could be for your type,” Mrs. Cannon said sternly stepping between Belle and her husband.
“Mrs. Cannon
!” Belle said shocked. “Why would you say such a thing? It is a wonderful day for all of God’s creatures.”
“No, Belle. For sinners, God has no mercy,” Mrs. Cannon added.
Her husband turned to her shocked. “Mrs. Cannon? Why would you say such a thing to a wonderful girl like Belle?”
“Mr. Cannon, this girl is a sinner and a harlot. This girl is not the type of person that we want in our shop. We are God-fearing people and the shop is in our home.”
“Mrs. Cannon?” Her husband asked again. “How could you say that about Belle? We have known her since she was a baby. She has always been a good girl.”
“Mr. Cannon, a bad apple always eventually shows its worm.”
Belle looked at the two flabbergasted. She had no idea what Mrs. Cannon was talking about. “Why are you saying this, Mrs. Cannon? I demand you apologize to me.”
“I will not. God sees all things. He knows what you did at the stream yesterday and so does everyone else in this town.”
Belle went white with shock. How could anyone other than Trudeau know that? He would never have told anyone, so how could Mrs. Cannon now know?
“Whatever I did or didn’t do, I’m sure is none of your concern. But I can assure you that whatever I might have done was between me, my God, and my fiancé,” Belle said confidently.
“Your fiancé?” Mrs. Cannon said allowing her narrow birdlike face to express surprise. “Since when has Trudeau become your fiancé?”
“Since yesterday when he proposed to me.”
“And I suppose that he knows that he is your fiancé?” She asked doubtfully.
“Of course he does. He was the one who asked me,” Belle said defiantly.
“Well, until you present your fiancé to us, you will have to buy your supplies elsewhere. Mr. Cannon and I won’t allow a sinner such as yourself into our business or our home.”
“But I need the flour to make bread for dinner. I have been buying flour from your shop ever since I was a little girl.”
“And as you have proven yesterday, you are not a little girl anymore. But the question remains, are you now a respectable woman of God?”
Belle was flustered. She was not expecting to tell anyone about her good news and least of all under the threat of a woman like Mrs. Cannon. But if she knew about what she had done with Trudeau, others had to as well.
Mrs. Cannon had said that the entire town knew. Could that be true? Could her most intimate moment now be gossip for the idle minded women of the hamlet? If so, how had they found out?
Belle left the shop feeling her confidence waver. Looking around, everything now looked gray. She hadn’t noticed it before but now she could see that everyone was staring at her. The whole town had stopped to gawk at her and many of them leaned to each other and whispered.
A hollowness developed in her chest. Panicking about what everyone knew, she couldn’t breathe. They all knew what she had done with Trudeau and they were all judging her for it. Unsure of what to do, she yelled at them.
“Trudeau is now my fiancé. We got engaged. He left with Mr. Lafleur this morning to get a ring. He is going to be my husband. It is a wonderful thing,” she insisted convincing no one.
It was then that Belle heard her name shouted from a carriage headed into town. “Belle!” The voice screamed grabbing everyone’s attention. “Belle, you must come!”
Belle looked past the disapproving faces surprised at what she saw. It was Mr. Lafleur. What was he doing here? Trudeau had told her that the two were headed on a weeklong trip. Trudeau had insisted on going with him so that he could buy a ring.
“Mr. Lafleur?” Belle said running past the scornful townspeople to Mr. Lafleur’s approaching carriage.
“He is calling for you, Belle. You need to see him.”
“Who?” Belle begged terrified to admit who it was.
“It’s Trudeau. We were on the path through the Dark Forest when wolves attacked. The young man saved my life but now I fear that he won’t make it. He’s calling for you, Belle. I’m afraid he will not survive.”
At once, everything that was good and happy in Belle’s life drained out of her. She ran to the back of the carriage praying that none of it was true. It wasn’t a mistake, though. The bloody man who lay dying on the bed of Mr. Lafleur’s carriage was her love, Trudeau. She was stunned and devastated looking at him, but as his chest raised struggling for breath, Belle climbed onto the carriage and threw her arms around her dying love.
“Trudeau, please don’t leave me. I love you so much. You can’t go,” she said as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I love you too, Belle. I wasn’t able to get you your ring.”
“I don’t care about the ring,” Belle said her chest beginning to heave in devastation. “All I care about is you. Stay with me. Please! I beg you! I won’t be able to live without you!”
Trudeau did everything he could to reach out and take hold of Bell’s hand. He couldn’t. And as he tried, his chest fell expelling his last breath. As Trudeau stared at the only girl he would ever love, the spark disappeared from his eyes. Trudeau died.
“No!” Belle yelled trying to beckon her love back to her. “No, Trudeau. Come back to me! I can’t live without you,” she screamed. “I can’t live here without you!”
As if her soul had been ripped from her heart, Belle threw herself on top of her love and bawled endlessly. She cried until her eyes burned and her throat grew raw. Her bellows echoed off the buildings and reverberated through the town.
No one approached her until her father arrived. He pulled Belle off of her lost love and cradled her in his arms. She was inconsolable but her father promised to hold her tight until the day that she could again breathe easy.
Chapter 2
Belle laid casually at the edge of the stream reading a book. Since Trudeau’s death, books and baking had become her passions. Both were a problem. The only source of new books was at the church, a place she was told that she was no longer welcome until she showed remorse for her sin.
Also, the flour needed for baking could only be found at Mrs. Cannon’s supplies store, a place she was told that she was no longer welcome until – well, there was no until with that one. Mrs. Cannon had simply declared her a derelict and had refused to again sell anything to her.
That didn’t mean that Belle couldn’t get access to both books and flour, though. Bell’s father would return and pick up books as Belle needed it, and he would pick up all the ingredients from around town. That included the ingredients for Belle’s baking delights.
All of the baking did have an effect on Belle, though. She was no longer the dainty girl that had loved and lost Trudeau. She was significantly rounder now. And when the town’s women spoke of her, they described her new look as that of a girl who was no longer looking for a husband.
Books and baking weren’t Bell’s only interests, however. After Trudeau’s death, Belle barely left the house. It was then that she truly got fascinated by the gears and springs of her father’s clocks. Before then she had never considered how useful all of those little mechanisms were for solving problems.
For example, who needed to stir a cake’s ingredients by hand? To mix it thoroughly, Belle would have to take a tight grip of the bowl, firmly grip the wooden spatula and then really grind the ingredients together. With a series of different sized gears precisely placed in a box, however, Belle figured out that she could use a handle to mix the ingredients twice as fast while exerting half the effort.
This wasn’t the only improvement to her daily chores that she discovered. Washing clothes occupied hours of her time three times a week. However, using the weights of a cuckoo clock, she found that she could redirect its potential energy to gently turn wooden paddles in a bucket full of water. Cleaning their clothes would take a little longer than by hand, but in the meantime, Belle found that she could use her mechanical mixer to make a cake or just sit back and read a book.
Fishing at the stream was also
one of those activities that she found could be made easier with a few gears and springs. Anchoring a fishing pole into a box, Belle attached a line to a lever and a spring. When the fish bit taking the bait, it would flip a lever, release a spring, and hook the fish with the expertise of fishermen. And all of this was as she casually laid back reading a book.
Belle was deep into the final chapter of her book when her fishing box triggered with yet another catch. “Darn it, Catherine, you will have to wait. But I am sure that you will tame Petruchio yet.”
Belle placed her book aside and turned her attention to her fishing box. Peering into the clear stream she saw that she did indeed have a fish on her line. Cranking the handle on the side of the box, the fish lifted into the air. Knowing that she now had more than enough fish for dinner, she unhooked the fish, dropped it in her basket with the others, packed up her fishing box, and prepared to leave. It was then that she heard rustling in the bushes.