head, ramming upward as she moved her head over him. She was no expert, but the joy she took in what she was doing made up for any technical inexpertness. As her mouth pulled lovingly on his cock, Robert felt a great surge in his belly and heard her whimper with ecstasy as his come gushed into her mouth, his penis jerking hard with each hot spurt. She continued to hold his spent cock in her mouth until it began to soften. Then, lifting her head, she kissed it gently, kissed his stomach and climbed up in the bed. Her face was relaxed and contented and when she cuddled close to Robert he knew that the black girl had derived as much pleasure from sucking him as he had.
He put his arm around her and began to drift off into a sound, satisfied sleep. He was very glad this little creature was to be part of his establishment. He was fond of her, responding to her as one does to the adoration of any animal that thinks you are the God of all creation. The fact that her daily tasks would keep her more in Belinda's company than his own would keep her from becoming a nuisance, and it was pleasant to know that all that passion and whole-hearted whoreship would be in the servant's quarters, awaiting his convenience.
He rolled over sleepily and snuggled her closer with both arms.
CHAPTER TEN
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.”
