The Blonde Samurai Read Online Free PDF

is not easy, decidedly so when the memory is not a pleasant one.
    It didn’t help my thinking process when he rubbed my nipples back and forth, then took them between his teeth and bit them, not hard, just enough to make me cry out with more pleasure than pain.
    Was his hand wielding the whip just as provocative? Enticing me to take pleasure in such a deed instead of being repulsed? What other roguish certitudes would he undertake to engage my emotions?
    I had no intention of finding out. No matter how my body betrayed me with delicious sensations slithering up and down my spine, a flogging was not my idea of romantic love. Many of you would have no doubt fainted, then opted for the cathartic effect of Seidlitz powders to purge his evil deed from your body and purify your soul. I searched my mind for another alternative.
    Divorce?
    I mention it here should the curious idea have crossed your mind, albeit ’twas not a practical one for a girl in my situation. British law dictated that I could only obtain a divorce from James by proving he performed some bestial act such as cruelty upon my person (calling the two prostitutes as witnesses was not an option since their livelihood would shrink considerably if they testified against his lordship in an open court). He, on the other hand, could divorce me simply for the act of adultery. I had to think of something else, but what?
    “I demand you stop this display of power, James,” I said,stalling him with a steady but weakening voice that threatened to betray me. God, now he was teasing me with gentle stroking between my thighs. When would he stop? “Or I shall scream for help.”
    “And who do you think will come to your assistance, milady?” he said in a mocking tone. He leaned closer, the smell of a fragrant liqueur on his breath scenting his words with a menace I dared not ignore. “The room is soundproof and the servants are used to such goings-on.”
    I ignored his remark. “I imagine that is Lord Penmore’s best cognac I smell on your breath.”
    He laughed at my impudence. “And this is his favorite crop.” He raised his arm in a long arc, his handsome face gleaming with sweat, his dark hair matted and wet and sticking to his forehead and cheekbones. “The moment is at hand, my dear wife. Before I take you to my bed, I shall tantalize you with a most erotic stimulant upon your beautiful breasts—”
    “Release me, James—” I demanded. No matter how aroused I was by the crop, I refused to allow him to dominate me in a situation where I had no say in the matter.
    “And end our little game?” he taunted me. “I intend to enjoy myself as I watch you squirm—”
    The hiss of the flogger cutting through the air chilled me as the implement struck the wooden table with such force splinters of wood bounced upward and landed on my breasts, stinging my bare flesh and making me jump. Seeing my reaction, he threw his head back and laughed, then raised his arm again, taking aim at my nipples, hard and taut and quivering.
    “I won’t miss this time,” he vowed.
    “You wouldn’t dare,” I yelled, my breath becoming erratic. He wouldn’t stripe my nude flesh pink then rip my maiden-head from me with such cold audacity, would he? “If you do, I swear I shall faint—”
    Yes, I said it. After all my preaching about the silly, inane things aristocratic ladies do to keep their noses out of undesirable, odorous places, I had succumbed to the same devices and uttered a weak, feigned excuse. What choice did I have? I’d married a man devoid of any sense of propriety.
    “You give me cause to think, milady,” he said, smirking. “You should be primed with a whipping to stimulate your sexual juices, but I wouldn’t wish my bride to have a case of the vapors before I can pleasure her with my cock.”
    “It’s about time you came to your senses,” I muttered, relieved. “And stopped playing this deviant game.”
    “Who said the game was over?” He put down the