Blackburn Wendell - The Amorous Adventures of Belinda

Dawn improved things somewhat, and they were at last able to relax a little and look about them. Since the parish surveyor lived along this road, the undergrowth and hedgerows had been freshly hacked away. As the sun rose, the twitter of the larks could be heard as they woke to begin the new day. The new grain sprouts showed pale green in the bordering fields, steaming in the early morning mist. The air was fresh and clean, and the discomforts of the rutted pathway were soon forgotten as they turned into the main road leading to the Green.

Here they were joined by many others travelling in the same direction. They were of all classes and traveled by various methods. Many were on foot; some were on horseback and some on the backs of recalcitrant mules. Women and children, if they could afford it, rode in the gaudy, springless carriages and though the conveyance saved their legs, it battered the rest of them unmercifully. Many of the younger women, like Belinda, preferred to take their chances on horseback. A few, the frail, or old, or very wealthy, rode in litters.

The density of wheeled and pedestrian traffic made things slow going for those on horses, but it was easy enough to leave the road and ride down the verge of the fields. It was certainly quicker, and probably a good deal smoother going than the road itself. If the crops got tramped, as they often did, that was the lookout of the poor devil who planted them.

By mid-morning, Belinda and the men were both hungry and parched. Although they had passed many cottages displaying the holly bush outside the door as an invitation to the thirsty travellers, they preferred to look for a regular inn.

The first one that suited them was located a scant mile from Bethnal Green. They rode into the courtyard and the two men dismounted. Robert smiled to himself as he watched John lift his niece from her saddle. If they hadn't already found a spot to get fucked in, they soon would.

“We'll do well here,” he told them as the stable lad lead away their horses. “I know 'The Red Bull' well, and they serve fine fare. They also have some fine French wine on license from Raleigh and I, for one, have a throat as dry as a dust storm.”

They entered the inn and were shown by their host to a private room upstairs. As they ate great plates full of meat and bread, of game and poultry, and fresh, early vegetables, they decided that they would be well advised to book rooms before going on to Bethnal Green. It was much too long and hard a ride to return home this night, and after the long day of pleasure, with the wine and punch that would accompany it, they would be far better travellers for a good rest.

After finishing their breakfast and making arrangements with their host, they mounted fresh horses rented from the stable and arrived at the green within an hour.

Robert departed on business, if it can be called business to seek out some buxom, willing lass to warm his bed that night, and Captain Fothering took Belinda's arm as they strolled about the crowded green.

People swarmed everywhere, the human mass ebbing forward, then receding like the tide. There were stalls for meat, for ale and wine, for shellfish and sweets. There were bear dancers and bear pits, a bull baiting ring and a small stage for the plays that would be performed off and on throughout the day. Minstrels sang their bright, foolish ditties and fortune tellers vied for customers.

A large platform had been erected, with a canopy to keep off any rain that might unluckily fall, for the evening's dancing. This edifice was, of course, for the quality. The baser folk would have dancing, too, but they were content to use the slick, new grass of the green itself.

Stands had been built with boxes containing comfortable seats, so that when the time came for the four-part madrigal singing, the performing horses and the grand race, the spectators could watch at their ease.

The stands, the booths, the people themselves were riot with color. Red, green, lemon, rose, white, gold flashed and glittered everywhere.

Belinda glowed. This riotous, noisy, almost frantic gaiety suited her exactly. That she was escorted by a dashing gallant, who's broad, handsome frame rose head and shoulders above everyone around them, added much to her already ecstatic mood.

“Oh, John, I do love the fairs! Even God must love them, since he gave us such a perfect day for it.”

John looked down at her beaming face. “Perhaps he does, but I warrant even he would have a poor time trying to get through this crush. By the blood of our Lady, I can see nothing for miles but masses of people! We had better pick a spot to join up in the case we get lost.”

“No fear,” Belinda laughed, “I shall cling to you like a barnacle to the bottom of your ship.” She looked around. “If you do manage to shake me loose, I'll wait for you in the box stands. We'll be sitting with Sir David's wife.” She stopped and waved her arm. “Karen! Karen!” The blond child to whom she had been beckoning disappeared around the corner of the barn that stabled the horses entered in the competition.

“That was Karen Cassen, Sir David's little girl. I guess she was going to the barn to look for her father.”

Karen Cassen was going to the barn, but not to look for her father. Sir David, she knew, was putting his horse, Pan, through it's paces in a pasture some distance from the green, and it was only for this reason that she dared venture into the barn at all. She had heard the grooms talking about “relieving the stallions,” and had watched them lead a horse away and close the door of the stable. They were gone some time, and she could hear the animal knickering and screaming, and then they were back. She had asked her father about it, but he had simply told her sharply to rejoin her mother.

In spite of his own peculiar arrangements with his daughter, who by now, at twelve, felt regularly the pleasure of her father's cock buried deep in her little cunt, he was most careful to protect her from any other contact with sex. The reason the horse had been taken into the small stall was very much a sexual one. With this much horseflesh about, there was almost certain to be one or more mares in heat, and even the best trained stallion gave a damned shoddy performance if he were rutting about after a filly. It was therefore the custom for the stable attendants to “relieve the stallion” at least once and often twice before he was due to race or be exhibited.

Karen had started back to her mother, but she was curious. Her father's tone was one he rarely used, and the reason for it aroused her curiosity more than ever. She had drifted about with the crowd for a little while and then, when she knew her father would have left for the pasture on Pan, she worked her way back to the barn. After watching at a discreet distance for a few moments, she saw a young man take another stallion into the closed stall. When he had shut the door behind him, she slipped into the stall adjoining, and bolted the door. Walking silently across the straw-covered floor, she found a tiny crack through which she could peek.

Bending down, she pressed her eye against the partition and looked in.

The big stud was standing against the far wall. His feet had been well secured to stakes so that it was impossible for him to kick or rear, and the swarthy, handsome groom was standing beside his flank. Having previously drenched his hand in the flow of a mare in one of the other stalls, he had rubbed it over the stallions nose immediately after tying him up. Karen could see the immense scarlet nob that now protruded from the animal's protective sheath. While she watched, the groom reached down and took the great globe in his hand, teasing and stroking it. The stallion whinnied softly and tried to rear, but the man continued to stroke and fondle it's cock until the whole great length had pushed itself out of the sheath. The huge organ jutted out sharply, wet and red and dripping. Karen caught in her breath, her eyes round and fascinated. It was so big and the horse was getting more and more excited as the groom manipulated him. She could feel her cunt send a warm trickle down her leg, and she crossed her little legs and rubbed her thighs together.