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.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The queen sat on the terrace at her favorite palace in Greenwich. From here she had watched ships sailed by Drake and Hawkins and Gilbert sail triumphantly up the Thames, laden with Spanish gold and new glory. From here she had watched ships, sailing with her blessing and often her patronage, speed toward Africa, raiding and harrowing the Portuguese colonies and gathering cargoes of blacks to be sold as slaves in the Indies. Spain was furious at the English interference in what had heretofore been her special prerogative, but as long as the plantations were short of workers, the Spanish landowners bought the Africans whether they be offered for sale by fellow Spaniards or by the hellish Drake himself. The prices paid were high, the profits great, and of these profits Elizabeth took good share. No longer was it necessary to affect horror before the Spanish ambassador when hearing tales of English villany among his shipping. Indeed, there was at present, no Spanish ambassador in England. Nonetheless, Elizabeth's actual participation in these forays, often to the extent of actually supplying the ships themselves, was something she never publicly admitted.
Would she also, one day, see a fleet of warships, sent by the long-tried Philip of Spain, sail past this rose- strewn terrace to conquer and ravage her land? She thought not. True, many of her advisors warned that unless she sent the attack first, this was exactly what would happen. Elizabeth, however, had more faith in her subjects, in her fast, trim ships and fine sailors. They would fight like hellions when the time came; they would repel the proud Spaniard.
She smiled, her face no longer young, almost tartish under the heavy paint, but still very much the visage of
