The Blonde Samurai. Jina Bacarr

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t close the book, then pout because I spoke so freely. It’s women like you who perpetrate the whole idea of sex as something indecent. Open your eyes and understand that I use the vulgar word with no excuse, for that’s what his lordship had in mind. Fucking. Any girlhood illusion I had about the debonair lord I had married vanished. The man I had perceived to have a great wit had proven he had no honor, was debauched but so charming he could tempt a sister of the cloth to denounce her savior. All my romantic ideas were gone. Shattered like a beveled-glass mirror and broken into so many pieces no illusion remained. I was a fool to believe our marriage was different, that I could change the behavior of a man from the upper class, a class that thrived on infidelity in an aristocratic society. I had been warned that in my new position it was expected that I would ignore James’s indiscretions, as I’m certain you do those of your husband. I couldn’t. I was in a state of excitement on my wedding night and believed I could make him become the man I thought I’d married by threatening to leave him. Foolish on my part, but that’s how it was. I threw myself into a panic, knowing this was my moment to bargain with his lordship regarding the intimate details of our marriage contract, a contract that allowed no pleasure for a wife. I hadn’t wanted to believe my life would follow such due course. I became aware that I would proceed at my own peril.

      “If I permit you to return to your rooms without being pleasured by my cock,” Lord Carlton said finally, his voice even, “I shall have your word we will continue to live as man and wife?”

      “Yes, milord. In all matters except in the bedroom.” I hated making a pact with him, a dirty, vile agreement based on his lust and my temerity, but I had no choice. The scandal of an annulment would cause my mother such grief I couldn’t bear it. My marriage to Lord Carlton and entrée into British society meant everything to her. Though I didn’t approve of my mother’s brashness, I understood her hunger for the finer things in life. Reared in poverty, Ida O’Roarke didn’t have a pair of shoes to wear on her scarred feet until she was seven. Now she owned a hundred pairs made of the finest Italian leather.

      No wonder my mother put an end to the heated whispers and snickers when she took her seat in the bridal pew at my wedding. Head held high, she stared them down until they turned away, shamed by her strength and fortitude. No doubt the rumors of an O’Roarke indiscretion had followed us across the Atlantic after my younger sister, Elva, found herself with child after lessons of another sort from her French fencing master. I knew it bothered my mother even if she didn’t show it. She couldn’t bear up under more aspersions cast upon us.

      Such a scandal célèbre would also have far-reaching repercussions on my father. He had such great hopes for his business ventures in the Orient with the opening up of Japan to the West. It was no secret that companies from the United States hadn’t been able to catch up to the British in forging their part of the Yokohama trade. Many nights I’d listen to Da lamenting to his cronies about how American merchants eked out a tenth of the Japanese imports compared to the British. My marriage to a titled Englishman had assured him of the entrée he needed to compete in this exciting new commercial venture.

      A surge of hope raced through me. His lordship had also done me a great service. I was now Lady Carlton and as such, I was included in the dalliances and nuances of British society. I sensed a new arena would open up to me as an intimate member of the royal set, where I could speak my mind without being rebuffed, where I could meet famed personages and learn from them, where I could delve into politics and the arts and explore them without fear of reprisal. Something I couldn’t do in New York because we were considered nouveau riche and were not invited to society soirees.

      Tense, I prayed my line of reasoning would keep my husband from violating me. Whatever his choice, I must remain strong. It wouldn’t be easy to recover from such a sexual betrayal of my innocence, but I must if I were to survive. If I couldn’t give completely of myself to a man, my heart, my soul, I wanted no man—

      Until I met Shintaro. Then I couldn’t get enough of his masculine sexual energy, him stroking me, licking me, touching the back of my neck with his strong hands, coddling my breasts, rubbing my nipples, nuzzling my belly, slapping my buttocks, thrusting into me…his heavy breathing, his sensual grunting expressing his pleasure, though it took many months for him to reveal his spirit to me, his hopes, his dreams. For the way of the warrior demanded he keep those feelings hidden, though at times I’d see them flicker in his brooding black eyes when he looked at me, like an elusive wind blowing restlessly in the dark recesses of his samurai soul.

      I couldn’t stop breathing hard, panting. But that part of my story must wait until that enchanted time when the samurai and a maiden chanced to find each other in a hidden valley in the land of the shoguns. First, being a part of this world was something I wanted, wanted it dearly, and it all hung on the next few words tripping off the tongue of my husband, Lord Carlton.

      I shivered, though the heat from our bodies dripping with sweat from arousal and need warmed the room with intensity. He raised his eyebrows and snorted, as if spewing fire from his nose announced he was in control of my fate. Finally he loosened the bindings holding me down.

      “You’ve won, my dear wife,” he said coldly. “For now.”

      Then he left me to revel in my triumph. Alone.

      I lay back as the leather restraints fell from my wrists, the sudden relief coursing through me and making me lose control of my pubic muscles and bringing me the pleasure I had fought so hard to repress. I didn’t try to stop it when the tension in my lower body reached a crescendo, experiencing spasmodic contortions. I thrust out my belly, rocking my hips and buttocks as I writhed from the probing of phantom fingers pleasuring me…

      Arms aching, chills making me shiver, I pulled myself to my feet, fighting back nausea and the light-headedness that seemed to overwhelm me as I dragged myself back to my rooms. I opened the door and was nearly inside when I heard my husband’s voice beckoning the two prostitutes to rejoin him. Giggling, squealing and the sound of the flogger hitting its fleshy mark echoed in the hallway. I turned and to my relief, no one followed me.

      My emotions spent, I collapsed atop the pure white eiderdown and sank into its virginal folds, then wiped the sweat from between my breasts with the torn silk of my wrapper, the fine threads unraveling between my fingers. I had seen a new side of my husband tonight, one that disturbed me. James was impetuous, disquieting, illusive, and I sensed a desperate need within him to assert himself upon women.

       Yes, I had won, but how long would he keep his end of the bargain?

      I didn’t trust him, but one thing I knew for certain: I wouldn’t allow him to dominate me, mentally or physically. From this moment on, whatever unpleasantness I might experience with my husband, whatever actions he might take to rouse my emotions or disturb my sense of reasoning, I would fight back.

      I would endure.

      3

       Mayfair, London

       Six months later…

      Since assuming my role as Lady Carlton, I have developed an intense dislike of the smell of freshly polished leather, the tangy odor rutting up my nostrils like tiny maggots eating away at my brain with their sorriest secrets.

      His secrets. Women. Floggings. Tempestuous howls. As if the cheeky maid who caught his lordship’s eye relished the sensation of being skinned alive, a practice best served by a skilled master, according to a slim tome I found in the library called The Misadventures of Molly Pearlbottom.

      Quite a bawdy read and one I recommend highly, a story that will instruct you in the СКАЧАТЬ