Belinda was greatly pleased with her uncle's gift. The fact that the acquisition of such fine blackamoors would be considered quite a coup socially interested her little. The creature's themselves interested her far more. She had never seen a black at close range before, and although she knew they weren't really human, not in the same way she was, they were close enough that she found them fascinating.
She knew her uncle well enough to know that he had very likely already sampled the gorgeous female, and laughed at his rather sheepish admission that she was right. Noting the slender beauty of her new hand maid, she couldn't blame him.
She was more than a little impressed with Jacques. She was not frightened, but a little in awe of the giant. His perpetual silence was eerie, even though she knew his lack of speech was compulsory rather than antisocial. One wondered what went on behind those deep eyes. Though his expression was one of perfect deference, did that inscrutable dignity hide thoughts, opinions that might give pause, were they known?
He was certainly a wonderful physical specimen; in all respects, from what she could see. When he was first brought in to her, she thought he must be wearing an enormous cod-piece. In the matter of cod-pieces, several variations were current. The more extreme dandies wore a sort of harness around their loins, to which was attached a great deal of shaped wadding. Over this went their skintight pants or hose. The effect was sometimes more ludicrous than erotic, especially if the tailor had been over-enthusiastic.
Others, Sir David and Robert among them, preferred simply to have a reasonable amount of padding sewn into their garment, on the side on which they normally dressed. It was usually the case that the greater the coxman, the more likely he was to espouse this latter form of artifice. Perhaps it was their greater confidence that made it necessary to make too grand a boast, but more likely it was the convenience of the simpler version. At one time, Robert had experimented with the grander piece, and it did create a most satisfactory bulge. However, after getting sadly entangled in the supports at a most inauspicious moment, he tossed the thing on a trash heap and went back to that which, if it promised less, made it much more possible that what it did promise would be fulfilled.
After she had patted Jacques' chest and arms and thighs to feel his muscle, bending forward in her low-cut dress as she did so, she sat back and looked at him a moment. Pronouncing him most satisfactory, she sent him to his quarters. It was then, when she was alone with her uncle, that she mentioned what she was sure must be the most exaggerated cod-piece ever made.
Robert assured her that this was quite untrue. One did not pad out one's slaves clothing.
“I'll grant you his profile is impressive, but aside from the scant addition of his trousers, it's all flesh.” He grinned, raising one eyebrow. “Doubtless you'll find some good use for it.”
“Uncle! What a smut-mind you are! Whatever would I use it for? A paperweight? I doubt very much that I shall ever even see it.”
“Do you?” he laughed. “It'll be a terrible waste then.”
The conversation reminded her uncomfortably of those embarrassing references to Rex that he still threw in now and then, even after all these years. She flounced across the room.
“Filthy thing. You're just trying to share your guilt over taking the sister.”
Robert was amused at her embarrassment, the more so since he was sure that her carnal little mind had been running along exactly the same paths as his.
“Not at all, Lindy girl. Far from being guilty, I just hope that if you do decide to sample the moor, you get as much for your efforts as I did.”
Belinda skipped back and sat on his lap, her eyes bright.
“Was she good, Uncle? What was she like? You must tell me all about it.”
Robert laughed and ruffled her hair. The injured young lady of a moment ago had quite disappeared. This was his own lecherous little Belinda, quite obsessed by anything pertaining to her favorite subject.
He gave her all the highlights of his sojourn with Lala, and she wriggled against him as she listened avidly.
“It's too bad,” he concluded, “that you're not a man. You could try the lovely, little creature yourself.”
Belinda looked thoughtful, albeit, more lascivious than ever. “Maybe I will, anyway. I've often thought I might like to have a woman's body for a little while, to do what I liked with. Why should men have that privilege all to themselves? It would be fun to pet a girl and do things to her and make her all excited.”
This turn in the conversation made Robert's breath catch in his throat. He didn't know if she were serious, but the thought of her lush, creamy body tangled in passion with Lala's slim, black one aroused him greatly. He knew better than to push the idea further, but hoped that having thought of it, Belinda would decide to put it to the test. Sensualist that she was, he knew that if she once got to the treasure of passion encased in Lala's gorgeous flesh, she would certainly want more. The second time he intended to be present.
For several days Belinda made no move to turn her suggestion into concrete action, but the idea remained with her. Lala was the perfect servant, willing, clever and, it seemed, affectionate. Belinda was fond of her, and as the days passed she became more and more aware of the physical loveliness if her new slave. On the other hand, being fond of her, she didn't wish to force her into anything that would be repulsive to her. Making the black girl unhappy would defeat Belinda's purpose entirely. She had often wondered just how a man felt when her hands and mouth were working on him, but if she could arouse this girl in the same way, she would know exactly what sensations she was creating.
Accordingly, she made a few experimental tacks before turning full into the wind. Once, when Lala was working on her hair, she reached up and stroked the girls soft, bare arm. At first Lala was startled, but seeing her mistress smile, she glowed with the thought that her beloved mistress liked her.
It was part of her duties, each afternoon, to rub her mistress's body with perfumed oil, to keep the skin from drying. One day, about two weeks after her arrival in the household, Belinda decided to reverse the procedure. She had no intention of going any further, but she had petted the blackamoor's arms and neck on other occasions, and she wanted to find out if the rest of her body was as soft; as warmly stimulating to her fingertips.
Belinda had put on a pale silk wrapper and Lala was putting away the ungents she had been using. The oversheet still lay spread out on the bed, slightly oily from where Belinda had been lying.
“Lala, take your clothes off and I'll rub you with oil.”
Lala stopped, astonished. Her mistress spoke in French, so she couldn't have misunderstood her. She must be making a joke.
Lala continued to put the oils away, her white teeth flashing her appreciation of Belinda's humour.
Seeing her opportunity slip away, Belinda moved quickly. What had been little more than a whim became a determined course of action.
She took the bottles from the slave's hands and put them back on the stand beside the bed, straightening the oversheet.
“It will be good for you. Come. I'll help you undress.”
Perhaps Lala saw something in her mistress' eyes, perhaps she just sensed that things were no longer a joke. At any rate, she shyly began to take her clothes off. Belinda helped, standing off to admire when the task had been accomplished. Lala did, indeed have a beautiful body, with her slender thighs and high, pouting breasts. As she stood there quietly, her eyes big, Belinda ran her hand over the dark stomach and squeezed the little breasts gently. She turned the girl around and ran her hand over the protruding buttocks. Lala showed no displeasure; rather, the look in her eye was one of complete submission, complete trust. She couldn't quite understand why her mistress wanted to touch her, but since she belonged to her, she could do with her as she wished.
Telling the black to lie down on the bed, Belinda poured a little of the perfumed oil into the palm of her hand. She was surprised at the intensity of the emotion the sight of Lala's nakedness aroused in her. She wanted not only to touch, to taste, but to do so in such a way that the girl under her hand would be driven wild with sexual pleasure. She wanted to watch that black flesh writhe and arch, to hear the cries and whimperings of a woman thoroughly aroused.
She smoothed the oil over the silky skin, stroking gently, lulling the girl almost to sleep. Carefully, she pinched the dark nipples, rolling them in her hand. A woman may hide her desires from a man if she wishes to enough, but she cannot hide them from another woman. When Belinda knew that Lala's half-sleep had changed to mounting desire, she moved her hand further down her body.
Under the pretext of anointing the girls thighs, she spread her leg and started stroking the softly molded column. Her wrist rubbed against the girl's vagina lightly, and Belinda's breath started coming quickly in her breast as she felt the moist plumpness against her skin. She continued to tease for a moment until what had been moist was decidedly wet. Lala arched slightly against her wrist, breathing heavily. Did her mistress know what she was doing? Would she be angry? She hoped not, for she couldn't help herself.
Belinda stood up and dropped her gown. She was panting, heat washing in great waves through her thighs and belly.
She lay down on the bed beside the black and took her in her arms, rubbing her body against her. She could feel the pointy breasts pushing against her, could feel the smooth skin slide beneath her as their bellies rubbed together. She brought her mouth down on Lala's full, wet lips and pushed her tongue between the white teeth. As she felt Lala respond, kissing her back and sucking gently on her tongue, Belinda put her leg between the other girl's open thighs and pressed the white skin of her own thigh against the wet, black cunt. She gasped as Lala moved against her, covering her thigh with hot, sticky fluid. She moved her leg back and forth and felt the girl's hips sway as she pressed up, rubbing harder and harder against her leg.
Belinda sat up, her emotions a tangle of pure carnality and that odd sense of protectiveness one feels toward a person who is completely in one's power. She pulled Lala's knees up and spread her legs wide. Opening the dark outer lips with one hand, she stroked lightly with the fingers of her other hand, caressing the hard clitoris, the ruddy inner lips and soaking entrance to the girl's body. Lala arched high, driven wild by Belinda's fondling. Her head moved back and forth on the pillow and her breath was a series of harsh gasps intermingled with unintelligible cries.
Belinda's own passion rose to a point where she no longer considered what she was doing. She was obsessed with a driving need to arouse this girl to higher and higher heights. Almost instinctively, she lay across the writhing body and buried her mouth between the jetty legs. Pushing her fingers high into the pulsing cunt, she sucked avidly on the jutting shaft of her clitoris, licking the moisture with her tongue. The sweet, slightly salty taste maddened her still further, and she sucked greedily, rubbing her whole face over the dripping sex.
Robert had been standing in the doorway for several minutes. He had come in all innocence to put to his niece some query about a ball they were to attend that evening, and had entered just as Belinda took the girl into her mouth. He stood quietly, intending only to watch, without making his presence known. The sight of their bodies, shiny with the perfumed oil, gyrating together, of Belinda's pink tongue hungrily washing the slave's hot cunt, proved too much for him. He walked toward the bed, unlacing his pants.
“Eat her, Lindy. It's good, isn't it?”
Belinda looked up, her eyes bright with lust. She showed no surprise at finding her uncle there.
“Oh, yes. She tastes like warm wine and she gets so excited when she's licked.” She grabbed the girl around the hips and turned her over, pulling her bottom high into the air. Crouching behind her, she pushed her tongue into the streaming hole, feeling the hot juice run over her pallet and down her throat.
Fully undressed, Robert sat beside her on the bed and watched. His cock was hard and burning and he whispered lascivious encouragement to his niece.
Belinda sat back, her mouth and cheeks and chin wet with love juice, and held the black girl's hole open.
“In there, uncle. Put your cock in there.” Snorting like a stud, Robert hastened to do as he was told, ramming his rod full up the flaming tunnel till the fat, high cheeks of her bottom pressed tight against his belly. Lala wriggled frantically against his shaft, and he held her tight.
Her dainty little face glowing like a satyr, Belinda reached her hand under the girl and stroked her cunt from the front.
“Fuck her. Fuck her hard, uncle. Oh, she loves it so! Let's make her come so I can taste it.”
She pushed her head underneath the girl's raised body, and Robert felt her firm, wet tongue darting over them, pushing deep so that she was licking his cock even while it was deep inside the other girl's cunt. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and he quickened his stroke. Lala moaned, a deep cry that came from the very depths of her being, and Robert moved faster, harder, hot tongue and drawing, pulling cunt making his cock a pillar of flame.
“She's coming, Lindy. Oh, God, she's coming. Stay there. Keep licking. I'm going to shoot in her. Quick. Take us both. Oh, God, now, Lindy Now!”
The last word was almost a scream as Robert felt spurt after spurt of his life force gush out of him. As he fell back, exhausted, Belinda pressed her mouth tight against Lala's hole, draining it.
She wriggled out from under the girl and lay beside her, taking the panting, almost unconscious body in her arms. She kissed Lala's dusky face softly, murmuring, then closed her eyes. Even as Robert watched, trying to catch his own breath, they fell asleep.
His last orgasm, soul-shattering as it had been, had only taken the edge off his concupiscence, but it would be a shame to wake them. They slept so deeply that he knew he could safely tend to other things for an hour or so and find them still cuddled together when he came back.
He smiled as he pulled a coverlet over them, thinking that they looked like figurines, one of pearl and one of polished ebony. What a shame he could not so display them.