Belinda

by Bryan Caine

  ‘You liar,’ insisted Rachel in a calm but chilling tone. She cruelly held the strap for her victim to see. ‘Cane for long range. Strap for medium range. And brush for close range.’

  Before Belinda could ponder the science of it all Rachel raised the leather to her shoulder and then lashed it down on a diagonal course that struck the inside of her left thigh. Belinda didn’t need to pretend – it was agonising and she howled in despair. She longed to rub her scorched flesh, but Rachel ordered her to keep the dress held high. Again the strap raised, and again it lashed down spitefully. Poor Belinda howled again as tears welled up in her eyes and burst onto her flushed cheeks. Rachel grinned cruelly at the sight of them.

  ‘Stand up, you little temptress!’ she hissed.

  Belinda rose instantly, sniffling and keeping the skirts gathered beneath her breasts. As she stood with her thighs burning and her clitoris tingling Rachel pulled her close and swapped the strap for the hairbrush. She then tugged the crisp white knickers down and gazed upon her triangle of soft chestnut curls. Inserting a finger she toyed with the juicy clitoris that hid there. She inhaled deeply the sweet scent of her plaything, before turning her around and feasting her eyes on those glorious buttocks. Her fingertips traced the red weals from the whipping Tom had administered, but to Belinda’s relief she made no comment.

  Then she started using the back of the brush. She worked systematically, spanking each calf in turn and gradually working her way up both legs. Belinda was teetering on the edge of a shattering orgasm when the chastisement abruptly – and to Belinda’s secret misery – ceased.

  ‘Take your dress off, darling,’ Rachel whispered with a tenderness that totally confused the poor girl. When naked, Rachel made her kneel between her thighs, raised her own blue dress, and dropped it over her plaything’s head.

  It was warm and dark, and Belinda closed her eyes as hands urged against the back of her head and drew her towards the source of the warmth. Soft thighs caressed her cheeks, and her nose nestled into delicately scented hair.

  ‘Kiss me,’ she heard the muffled instruction through the enclosing skirts. She tentatively licked and kissed the moist labia. Slowly relaxing, she was even beginning to enjoy the task and apply herself more diligently when a strip of heat exploded agonisingly across her bare bottom. The cane rained down on her relentlessly and salty tears mingled with Rachel’s flowing juices on her tongue. Desperate to appease her tormentor she sucked and sucked and sucked, and did not scream until the very last vicious swipe of that thin rod landed not on her blazing buttocks but on the upturned sole of her foot.

  Thankfully, that was the end of the beating, and they made passionate love for another couple of hours before falling asleep. Rachel instructed Belinda not to let on to Tom, but to act as if she really was a housekeeper, just in case that had really been his intention.

  When Tom returned two days later, Belinda rather nervously announced that she wished to continue on her trek to find her uncle. She had come to the decision during the second night, following another torrid session with Rachel. It had certainly been an exciting and sexually fulfilling interlude, and she now knew without a doubt that she could take a deal of pain – even though her innate innocence still left her puzzled as to why so many people wanted to treat her in such a way. But she also knew that she wanted more out of life than being stuck on the ranch forever, and she was certainly opposed on principle to voluntarily following a lifestyle based on sexual gratification, especially as she always had great difficulties in saying ‘no’.

  Rachel was, of course, quietly furious at the loss of Belinda – a dream that could surely never be repeated in that remote wilderness – but could say nothing in front of her mildly disappointed husband. It was obvious now that Rachel had concocted the story about his giving her Belinda as a sexual gift. He wished Belinda luck, and arranged for one of his ranch hands to take her to the nearest neighbour, who would then relay her to the next, and so on until he had helped her as far on her journey as he could.

  Chapter Six

  The worst thing about the relay of lifts provided by Tom’s ranch hand, and the string of neighbours, was that they all insisted on her masturbating them as she sat behind them as the price for taking her in the right direction. But what really sickened her was not having to oblige them all, it was learning from these gleeful men that Tom had told about her behaviour out on the trail, and his message had been quickly passed down the line. Belinda just could not believe that Tom had turned out to be no different to all the others, and she cried several times at the thought, to the great amusement of his fellows.

  It was approaching sunset when the last of her long rides dropped her on a rise overlooking what, after such a long time in the wilds, looked like a great metropolis on the scale of Liverpool or Manchester. But as she walked down the hill towards the town she realised it was a relatively small place. Walking along the trail she took in the town as it nestled in the shade of the small range of jagged hills that surrounded it. There appeared to be just one main street going right through the centre. On either side of this was a maze of shacks, stables and narrow dusty lanes, and, on the outskirts at one end, three white villas with small gardens. The main street was a-throng with lively crowds of men and a few women. There was a great deal of noise and jostling and uncouth language. It could almost be, thought Belinda, the meaner part of Liverpool where she had unhappily spent the last year or so after her home life collapsed. She realised with a start that she had barely given her father or brother a thought recently, so wrapped up had she been in her own difficulties, and she immediately dropped to her knees on the stony cactus-strewn ground and whispered a tearful prayer for their wellbeing. Once she had reached her uncle she would not take long in re-establishing contact with them, perhaps even returning home. Or perchance her uncle was so rich he would be easily persuaded to pay off their debts, fines, and compensation and get them released and maybe he would even start them off in a new life. Fortified by these thoughts she determined that she would grit her teeth against all that this cruel land could hurl at her, and do whatever it took to get to her uncle… for her family’s sake.

  But for now, as she entered the noisy town, her thoughts had to be on herself, for she was hungry, thirsty, homeless and penniless, and was not even sure where she was or how much further she still had to go.

  The crowds in the street looked no more charitable than those had in St Joseph. The few women pursed their lips and hurried past with contemptuous looks on their hard faces, whilst those men who took any notice did so in very crude ways, shouting out coarsely suggestive remarks at this sad teenage girl. Some of them even blatantly rubbed their crotches through their dirty denim trousers, more to amuse their friends than to impress her.

  Halfway along the dusty street Belinda came to a noisy saloon. The racket coming from within was appalling, although to Belinda’s cultured ears the worst of it was the hideous way somebody was attempting to play a piano. But, deciding this might be a good place to seek employment, she took a deep breath, pushed open the batwing doors and entered.

  She looked around the smoky saloon apprehensively. The place was extremely busy and her arrival was scarcely noticed. It was packed with men, mainly sitting around tables and either playing cards in silence or conversing and laughing in loud, bantering and sometimes hysterical ways. Half a dozen waiters in whitish shirts and long aprons moved amongst the tables, occasionally being tripped by jokers with protruding feet. About a dozen glamorous women were making it their business to treat the men with great courtesy, but Belinda was a little saddened to note that some of the customers took advantage of the women’s good nature and slapped their bottoms as they passed, and, in a couple of instances, even shot their hands up the back of the girls’ long dresses. One of them responded by emptying the offending client’s beer over his head to the great amusement of all in the vicinity. Belinda decided the place was a bit rough but
nonetheless friendly. If it hadn’t been for the scruffy man slouched over the piano and hammering misshapen chords out of it in the most unmelodious way, she could have found the atmosphere almost appealing. She had certainly seen worse in Liverpool.

  She conveyed herself to the bar, feeling very self-conscious of her trail-soiled state in comparison with the glamour of the other ladies in the room, and tried to attract the attention of one of the busy bartenders. She hoped they might point her in the direction of gainful and decent employment. She also hoped they might give her a glass of water at least, but she was unable to get any of them to take any notice of her at all. She was almost on the point of crying with fatigue and frustration when a big man turned to her. She gasped as she saw his face. It looked as if it had fought in many wars on the losing side, being heavily scarred and with the whole of the end of the nose missing.

  ‘New round here, ain’t you?’ he asked in a hoarse voice.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Belinda with sweet politeness. It wasn’t his fault he looked the way he did. ‘I’m rather desperate for money, and was hoping I might be able to earn some here.’

  He grinned. ‘Shouldn’t be too hard, lady,’ he wheezed. He looked pointedly at her full and heaving breasts. ‘I guess you could play a man a pretty tune, eh?’

  Belinda brightened. ‘Oh yes, I could do that all right,’ she said excitedly, glancing across at the drunken pianist. She smiled winningly. ‘How much would I get for that, do you think?’

  But before he could reply a hand viciously gripped her shoulder from behind and spun her around. She just had time to see it was a beautiful woman when her face stung from a slap delivered by that same lady.

  ‘What do you think you’re playing at, you stinking cow?!’ the woman spat into Belinda’s face, confusing her terribly. Belinda was so shocked she could only stammer, ‘I – I – just wanted to earn some money—!’

  ‘Yeah, I heard you trying to poach one of our boys!’ she shouted, causing a hush to fall on the nearest tables whose occupants looked on with amusement. Belinda now saw that the woman was not as beautiful as she had appeared. Beneath her fine hairstyle and her glamorous clothing and make-up she had a very harsh and world-worn face.

  Belinda was terrified. ‘I… I’m terribly sorry. I meant no harm.’ In fact she still didn’t know what she had done wrong.

  The sour witch jabbed a long painted fingernail into Belinda’s right nipple to emphasise each of her hissed words. ‘Nobody – works – this – bar – without – going – through – me—’

  Poor bewildered Belinda tried to back away from the brutal finger, but the bulk of the big man blocked her retreat.

  ‘You better come with me,’ decided the witch. ‘My husband will need to deal with this.’ So saying she grabbed Belinda painfully by the arm, propelled the terrified girl through the jeering crowds, and into an office at the far end of the bar.

  It was a fair-sized room, furnished with a large leather-topped desk and a variety of comfortable-looking chairs. The floor was carpeted in deep colours and there were red velvet curtains at the window. Belinda’s nose wrinkled at the pervading smell of stale sweat that clung to the air.

  A man was seated at the desk, and he looked up as his wife pushed Belinda into the room. He was an unpleasant-looking type; dark and rat-faced with a thin black moustache and slicked-back hair parted in the middle. Belinda also noticed his attempt at a bow tie. She thought it looked more like a badly knotted bootlace than a tie. His sharp little eyes lit up as he took in Belinda’s beauty and fullness of figure.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ he said as she squirmed under his lecherous gaze. ‘What have we here then?’

  ‘Caught this little heifer trying a mite of freelancing up at the bar, Charlie,’ said the woman, shaking Belinda by her upper arm.

  ‘Good for you, Ruth dearest,’ he said with a sickly smile without taking his eyes from the exceedingly promising Belinda. ‘What do you think you were up to, girl?’ he snapped suddenly. The smile was gone.

  ‘I just needed to earn a little money,’ sobbed Belinda.

  ‘Don’t give us that little-miss-innocent shit!’ bellowed Ruth. She reached around Belinda and cupped and lifted her soft breasts. Belinda gasped at the disgraceful liberty, but said nothing. ‘She’s stood there talking to Cy No-Nose and she’s wiggling these at him and telling him she could play a fine tune for him if the price was right,’ sneered Ruth.

  Belinda was relieved to hear the horrible Charlie chuckle at that.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘not only have you got the right sort of pretty face,’ his beady eyes roamed to her proffered breasts and he licked his thin moustache, ‘but sounds like you got experience and wit as well. You could be what we’re looking for, eh, wife?’

  Ruth squeezed her back against her own generous bosom. ‘I think she might fit in,’ she sniggered.

  Belinda’s heart leapt.

  ‘Course, we’ll have to deal with her in the usual way for trying to steal our clients,’ continued Charlie.

  ‘But I wasn’t—’ Belinda started to protest.

  ‘And for lying as well,’ added Ruth, though she sounded more pleased than annoyed.

  Belinda decided to shut up.

  ‘Girl like you can make a lot of money here, so long as you go through the right channels,’ said Charlie, standing up. ‘We got lots of gentlemen with spare money want to pay well for odd jobs. Know what I mean?’

  Belinda nodded brightly. This was more like it. Especially as Ruth had now released her breasts from the crushing grip.

  ‘But she’s got to take a beating for her dishonest trading, hasn’t she Charlie?’ said Ruth, with a whining hint of concern in her voice.

  ‘What’s your name, girl,’ asked Charlie casually.

  ‘Belinda, sir,’ she answered meekly.

  ‘Very well, Belinda, we’ll find you the clients and we’ll pay you well. But only if you accept your punishment. You deserve it and it’ll show us what you’re worth.’

  Belinda was too desperate for the chance to earn a living to raise any objection. She nodded. She was ready for whatever they were intending to do… But then their demeanour changed, and a sinister chill ran up her spine.

  ‘Just come over here, darling,’ whispered Ruth into her ear as she guided her gently towards the desk.

  As Belinda’s thighs pressed against the mahogany edge Charlie smiled politely and, opening a drawer, took out a thick polished cane whose segments were clearly divided by the raised rings evenly spaced along its length. It looked heavy and Belinda felt the familiar tightening of the skin on her bottom. For all her unfortunate experience, she had never decided which was worst – thin and whippy or thick and weighty.

  Charlie leered almost apologetically at Belinda and whipped the cane onto the leather back of his chair. The crack nearly made her leap out of her skin and left her visibly trembling.

  Charlie moved around the desk and stood beside her. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered, and pressing on the small of her back, he bent her over the desk. The heady aroma of old leather filled her nostrils as she felt Ruth’s hands ghost their way up her legs from ankle to thigh, before folding her dress up onto her back. She felt a cold draught on her exposed buttocks, which was quickly replaced by a warm one as lips caressed their silkiness. She knew it was Ruth, because Charlie was standing with his solid erection pressing through his trousers against her hip. Belinda squealed softly with surprise as Ruth licked her bottom. Charlie stroked her hair almost tenderly and traced the tip of the cane around her slightly parted lips. Belinda squealed again as the rude tongue wormed its way between her buttocks. The feeling was not at all unpleasant, but she could have died when the persistent intruder pressed against her most private entrance, and then popped just inside. As she opened her mouth to protest the cane slipped in and silenced her. She gradually melted as the clever tongue wriggled and tea
sed in her rear passage, and when a finger eased between her thighs and caressed her wet labia her legs buckled and she draped panting and helpless on top of the desk. As she closed her eyes and drifted towards a wonderful orgasm the expert digits disappeared, and she was left dismayed and empty. How could this man and wife be so cruel?

  ‘She’ll do,’ she heard Ruth’s assessment through clouds of swirling confusion. Hands rolled her onto her back, and she peered up at the couple through lowered lashes. Charlie laid the cane on the desk and helped his wife remove her dress. In moments Ruth wore only a tight corset that threatened to spill her voluminous bosom, and a pair of white knee-length drawers. She climbed onto the desk and knelt astride Belinda’s waist. Her hands gently stroked along the prostrate girl’s enticing curves, and then with another menacing change of mood she gripped her bodice and ripped it open. Belinda’s gorgeous breasts spilled out, and both husband and wife exhaled with admiration and desire.

  ‘Wonderful!’ Ruth panted for them both.

  Belinda, not daring to provoke this unpredictable couple, lay quiet and still as Ruth squirmed up her body until she sat heavily on her naked breasts. Her arms were trapped uselessly by Ruth’s legs. Belinda didn’t know what to expect next from the woman who knelt gazing down at her, and then she felt with embarrassment Charlie stroking her flat stomach and soft thatch.

  ‘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.