by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of “The Blonde Samurai”
I imagine you are a sensible young British noblewoman in this year of 1876, going about the exhausting travails of getting ready for Christmas Eve–
You must make certain Cook has prepared the goose all plump and tender, and don’t forget to taste the spicy plum pudding and enjoy a glass of claret while you do so. Then you’re off to your dressmaker on Bond Street to implore her to cut the neckline of your red velvet holiday gown lower to show off more décolletage while you–
Wish Santa would stuff your Christmas stocking with a naughty story…
Did I hear you gasp? Reach for your box of smelling powders? You don’t have to pretend with me that you haven’t wished for a delicious read while you were being fitted for your new crimson satin corset, the corsetiere pulling your stays so tight you nearly fainted.
Why shouldn’t you have a naughty story to entertain you when his lordship whiles away the afternoon at his club or bets on the races at Ascot? Turnabout is fair play since English gentlemen have their pick of erotic magazines to choose from, such as The Boudoir and Exquisite. Saucy reads for a guinea each.
And you, poor dear, are still reading that dreadful thing your mother-in-law gave you for a wedding present: The Wives of England; Their Relative Duties, Domestic Influence and Social Obligations.
No more. I shall alleviate your longing with an excerpt from my upcoming memoir written as Lady Carlton (I’m Irish-American born, though I pray you shan’t hold that against me). It’s called “The Blonde Samurai“–yes, I know it’s considered quite scandalous, but I assure you I did fall in love with a tall, handsome samurai, one of the most mysterious, elusive and enigmatic men in all Japan. I’ve penned quite an erotic tale about my adventure, including a naughty story in my memoir about an impetuous lass called Molly Pearlbottom.
As I wrote in The Blonde Samurai:
“So, in accordance with the memory of what I read on that stormy afternoon in Lord Penmore’s library with the steady sound of rain beating on the roof and moisture seeping between my thighs, and what I’ve since learned about the delicate art of bondage from a true master, I will re-create a chapter in the life of Molly Pearlbottom.
“The licentious goings-on still make me sigh…
“Molly Pearlbottom, daughter of the town vicar, had one aspiration in her young life: to be flogged by the dashing Lord of Malworth Hall. He was taller than any man she’d ever seen, and his world was one of aristocrats and power, strappings and aggression, strength and domination. Every time she walked by the great manor house, she daydreamed about being bound and nude before his approving eye, then wrote about it in her curly handwriting in her copybook.
All the other girls in the village had received their share of whippings and spankings by the roguish lord, who dutifully followed the family tradition of all the lairds before him. Every third Wednesday of the month, precisely at noon, he chose a willing recipient of his silver-handled, blue riding crop from all the girls who lined up under the great oak tree on top of the hill. Dropping their drawers and turning their bare backsides toward him, they all wondered, Who would be the lucky lass today? Her ivory-smooth bottom smarting from delicate pink welts rising up on her skin like fresh blossoms, her flesh quivering with delight, her squeals and whimpers signaling a secret code of pleasure?
“Not Molly. Her father kept her so busy on Wednesday afternoons washing down the rectory with soap, a brush and a pail of water, she never had the chance to find out. Fervent, irrational, her father allowed her no leeway, overwhelming her with chores. She had no opportunity to assuage her hunger for whippings and the pursuit of her secret pleasure.
Find out if Molly gets her wish in “The Misadventures of Molly Pearlbottom,” a story within a story in The Blonde Samurai.
The Blonde Samurai
“She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”