Free Belinda by Bryan Caine Page B

up today; in his desire to use the religion as an excuse to get her to hold his penis in the open air, he had miscalculated grossly by forgetting that the others would inadvertently show him up by not requiring the same service. She felt so sick that she would have walked straight out of the job there and then, but she was in the middle of a wilderness, and she did have to get to California.
    The whole group, with the exception of Jens and the girl Helle, were totally obnoxious to Belinda throughout that holy day. They seemed to have saved all the worst jobs for Sunday, and she found herself washing week old stockings and underwear by hand in the icy water that she had to carry from a nearby stream. There was neither time nor timber enough to heat water. She also had to clean the four wagons thoroughly, and received a lot of vicious abuse from each wife in turn at the slightest excuse. The more she tried to please the nastier they became. They had a prayer meeting in the morning, after she had fed them breakfast, and then they all went for a walk to glorify their interpretation of religion.
    Only Thonnig’s wife Anna stayed behind after the group agreed that their worldly possessions could not be entrusted to such a low form of life as Belinda. This she found to be the most hurtful thing that had been heaped upon her by these people who had treated her so well up to now. She could not understand it and once again she was close to tears as she wrung out the cold laundry in her chapped hands and watched them stroll away.
    Anna went into her wagon, and after a few moments Belinda heard her cry, ‘Belinda, get in here!’
    Fearfully, wondering what minor mistake she had committed when she had cleaned their wagon, Belinda climbed in. She was relieved to see Anna relaxing on the blankets on the plank floor, although she chilled a little at the Danish woman’s hostile stare.
    â€˜Come!’ snapped Anna patting the floor beside her, and Belinda, not having a clue what to expect, sat down beside her mistress.
    â€˜No, no, lie down now,’ Anna said very crisply.
    Belinda, her heart thumping, obeyed and stretched herself flat on her back beside the woman in the cramped covered wagon. For a minute Anna said nothing; only her heavy breathing could be heard. Then she stared into Belinda’s eyes. ‘We are alone,’ she stated.
    Belinda nodded cautiously. She was just wondering if she was to receive a sermon aimed at converting her when Anna’s right hand shot out, pushed her dress up to her knees and gripped her just above and inside the hemline. She gasped and stared in amazement as Anna’s hand tickled its way up her thigh. Those slender fingers with work-roughened hands – they were the ones that had assaulted her in bed that night. It wasn’t Thonnig, it was his wife!
    Belinda lay shocked and still as those expert hands stroked her thighs before moving on upwards to her fluffy and, she realised with a feeling of self-loathing, excited vagina. Four coarse fingertips danced lightly up and down her crack and toyed with her clitoris. The woman’s skilled fingers quickly allayed Belinda’s terror and disgust, and she became quite aroused and surrendered meekly as Anna leaned over her and pressed her lips to hers. As the kiss intensified so did the electrifying tickling. But then, just as Belinda had abandoned all mental protest, Anna pressed her mouth down violently and rammed her tongue into Belinda’s throat. This served to stifle our weary traveller’s protests as Anna’s plier-like fingers crushed the lips of her vulva as they had before. Anna removed her lips from Belinda’s, but placed an earthy hand over her mouth to stop her screaming as the spiteful torture of her gentlest parts continued ruthlessly. This was far worse than the previous attack, for Anna had no witnesses to concern herself about. Her interest in torture was very well defined; she was only