Blackburn Wendell - The Amorous Adventures of Belinda

Had he but known it, Maria had been celibate for as long, or longer, than he. Not only were the feeble advances of her elderly husband incapable of satisfying her, they were actually so repulsive that she had long ago ceased to allow him his conjugal rights. Twice before she felt herself washed with John's hot gush of burning come, her own body had stiffened and burst in flaring, searing orgasms. Madre de Dios, she had been afraid he'd never take her, and she need him so!

He rolled over and lay beside her, his arm darkly bronze against her snowy skin as he cradled one heavy breast in his hand. She lay still, her bosom heaving, her eyes closed and wearing the small smile on her lips that is the mark of a woman well and truly laid.

“Agua. Water, I am so thirsty.”

John brushed her forehead with his lips and threw his legs, albeit reluctantly, over the edge of the bunk. He crossed the cabin to a carved oak stand and picked up the silver water jug and a glass goblet. Pouring some into the goblet he handed it to her. As he watched her drink he caught sight of his face in the polished metal of the jug he held in his hand. The uniformity of his deep tan was ruddily broken by four deep, blood caked gashes running from his cheekbone to the point of his jaw.

“God's teeth! What damned ribaldry this will provoke. I won't be able to show myself outside the door without getting smirked at by the lowest deckhand.” He took the glass from Maria's hand and put it back on the stand. “Though the pleasures of your beautiful body are undoubted, you have all the sweetness of temper of an alley cat.”

He sat down on the edge of the bunk and, half lifting her, pulled her across his knee. She struggled to get loose, not sure what he was planning to do, but strongly mistrusting his tone of voice. He threw one long, hard leg over both of hers, pinning them against the sheet, and held her shoulders down with his left arm. Her body was held firm, arched over one knee. Her bottom jutted temptingly, round, white and defenseless.

“I'm going to enjoy this. This is something you should have had years ago, I'll warrant.”

With difficulty she turned her face to look at him. The contemptuous hauteur was gone from her dark eyes, replaced by decided anxiety and the beginnings of fear.

“What are you going to do? Let me up. Please.”

“Not till I'm ready, and there's no sense in wriggling. You can't get free and if you make it difficult I'll just lay it on harder.” He raised his hand. “I am about to teach you, senora, not to go around drawing blood-especially not mine.”

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the raised hand. It was large and bony and hard, and looked altogether formidable.

“You aren't going to beat me?” Her voice was a mixture of indignation, pleading and incredulity. “Surely not?”

“I'm going to spank you.”

His hand dropped, hard, and his satisfaction was greatly enhanced by the sound of her sharp cry. His hand rose and fell again, leaving a nice red pattern on her plump behind.

Donna Maria wriggled frantically. How dare he?

The hand fell again and she cried out. It hurt! Damn him, it hurt like blazes!

“Stop! Oh, please, stop. Let me up.” Her bottom burned terribly and as she felt John's hand land again, tears stung her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “Oh, please, please let me up. It hurts! It hurts!”

“Seven,” John counted. “It's meant to hurt. Those blasted scratches on my face hurt, too.” Her pretty bottom was bright pink, and as John laid on another stroke she started sobbing in earnest. “Eight. Two more to go.”

The last two seemed not quite as hard as the others, but still they hurt badly. Her punishment over, John released her and held her in his arms where she lay sobbing, tentatively rubbing her poor behind.

“I'm sorry,” she sobbed. “I won't do it again. Oh, oh, you hurt me.”

Being no sadist, John was surprised at the sensation that crept into his crotch at the sight of the reddened buttocks and the clinging, whimpering woman. He reached down to stroke her, murmuring comfort, and his fingers brushed the opening of her vagina. She was wet. John's excitement rose.

“There now, don't cry any more.”

He eased her out of his arms and lay her gently on her stomach on the bed. His cock was rigid now, and he felt it jerk hard against his stomach as he looked at the havoc his hand had wrecked. Maria's white flesh was crimson, and bluish welts were starting to show already. Though not seriously damaged, she would be good and tender for awhile, and it would be several days before she could sit down without being reminded of him.

He leaned over her and kissed the scarlet bottom lightly. He ran his tongue over her, tracing out the weals. Maria's sobbing tapered off, and a new sound took its place as she arched up slightly.

John slipped off the bunk and kneeled on the rug. He pulled her across till her legs hung over the edge of the bed. Spreading her thighs wide, John kneeled behind her. He kissed her bottom again, pushing his face underneath her so that he could run his tongue deep into her vagina. Maria moaned. The tender skin of her beaten ass felt hot against his face, and he straightened.

Maria cried out as she felt his penis enter her, and the coarse hair on his belly rubbed against her bare flesh. She wriggled frantically, torn between a desire to get away from the pain, and a terrible hunger for the thick, hard cock that filled her.

“Hush, woman,” John panted. “You have had your punishment, and now you shall have your reward.”

He looked down. Pulling his cock out to the head, he watched as he drove it slowly in again until his tight, swollen testicles pressed against her hot, wet cunt. The red, glowing cheeks fascinated him, and taking them in his hands, he spread them with his fingers, revealing the tight, little hole. As Maria strained against him, arching up to take his driving cock, the hole opened slightly. The fire in John's guts raged hot and, pulling back from her, he took his great cock in one hand and rubbed the dripping end over her, sliding it up and down the crease of her ass until she was well greased. Placing the end of his nob against the tight opening, he pressed forward. Maria squirmed, moaning and whimpering, as he pushed again. He stroked easily for a moment and the tight ring of muscle around the entrance relaxed, opening until she could take the full length of his rod.

As he surged up into her ass, Donna Maria jerked her hips wildly. Her hands clutched the sheets and her long hair fell into her face as she threw her head back. It hurt; God, it hurt as that great, hard prick pierced her behind, but she wanted him desperately. He leaned forward to squeeze one heavy breast, and the sore skin on her bottom stung more than ever as he ground against it John pounded into her; harder, deeper. He was panting hard, the tight hole squeezing almost painfully as he plied in and out. His cock jerked hard as great spasms of passion twisted his belly. The heat of the woman he was taking added to his own desire and he felt, once again, the sperm burst forth from his aching nob. He clutched her tight, filling her ass with a flood of boiling come, and she opened wide, taking it all, as her own passion rose higher and higher, breaking in a long, ecstatic climax.

“She cried for hours afterward, swearing that I had dragged her to the depths of the lowest doxy. I tried to comfort her, swearing with profuse apologies that I'd never come near her again, but she'd have none of it.”

Robert laughed at the downcast look and poured his friend more brandy. They were both a little drunk by now, but had every intention of getting a little drunker-perhaps, even, quite a lot drunker.

“You low bastard! Did she barricade her door for the rest of the trip?”