by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of “The Blonde Samurai”
Valentine’s Day seems a most appropriate time to revisit my favorite penny-a-line heroine, Molly Pearlbottom. That saucy, fanny-wiggling lass of The Misadventures of Molly Pearlbottom that I wrote about in my memoir, The Blonde Samurai. (Should you have an urge to explore a passage, you can read it here.) Molly is once again up to her old tricks, seeking out the skillful attributions of the handsome lord of Malworth Hall to pleasure her bottom with the kiss of fire that sends her senses reeling and her buttocks quivering.
The coming of Valentine’s Day brings Molly a sweet treat that even she did not deign could be so humorous, dramatic and, if I may attach a literary pun to the telling of my story, stimulating to the point of ecstatic.
It all began after church services on a pious Sunday morning with a frosty nip in the air that bit at Molly’s tender backside when her father, the vicar, received an urgent message from his lordship’s sister, the Lady Serise.
She commanded the presence of Miss Molly Pearlbottom at Malworth Hall immediately.
Molly squeezed her arse muscles tight. She knew of only one reason her ladyship would summon her.
Someone had informed Lady Serise about her whipping trysts with her younger brother, Lord Edward, on Thursday afternoons under the great oak tree on top of the hill. His silver-handled blue riding crop flying through the air faster than the autumnal leaves could fall or the snowflakes could melt, stinging her arse with one delicious stroke after another.
No, ’tis not an error of the pen you read regarding the snowflakes. Bundled up with her snug-fitting bonnet and woolen muff to keep her ears and hands warm, Molly reveled in the extra stimulation of the cold wind licking her buttocks with smarting strokes.
But I digress, as I am wont to do. I shall continue…
Wearing her halo of respectability as the vicar’s daughter, Molly ventured up the long, winding road to Malworth Hall, not daring to cast her eye toward the great oak tree. Who had told her ladyship about her? Not Lord Edward. He found great pleasure in their meetings, commenting on her delicious backside with adoring phrases while he stroked her soft cheeks with his hand, noting the pinkish blossoms from his crop popping up on her tender flesh.
And a kind gentleman he was, too. Hugging and kissing her, and making her feel important.
Was it about to come to an unseemly end? she wondered.
Refusing to act timid like a servant girl trying to pass muster with her mistress, Molly kept her head up, her back straight, her arse in when she entered the grand drawing room of Malworth Hall, a place much speculated upon by the local townspeople for save a few had seen its vast interior. Built in the twelfth century before the Third Crusades, the manor house boasted twenty bedrooms as well as a drafty, old dungeon.
Molly shivered. She had an idea that was where she was headed before the hour grew late, but she refused to cower before the woman. In fact, she had to stifle a giggle when she laid eyes upon her ladyship.
A sight she had ne’er expected from gentry greeted her.
A red-suited, gold-buttoned monkey wearing a tiny round cap sat on her ladyship’s shoulder, picking at the outdated wig plopped on her head as she sat at a desk worthy of a queen, shuffling notebook papers and scrutinizing a long list.
“Egad, I shall never get through all these names–” she sputtered, ignoring the monkey pulling a hairpin out of her blue-tinted wig and tossing it on the polished marble floor.
“Your ladyship, the girl you asked for has arrived,” drawled the butler in the monochromatic tone of those who feign importance where there is none.
“Lady Serise…” Molly said, her voice barely above a whisper. She made a curtsy, though she couldn’t take her eyes off this elegant woman in her stiff, crackly silk the color of dried almonds.
“Oh, yes, Molly Puttbottom,” she said, looking her up and down in a curious manner.
“Pearlbottom, milady.” Molly lowered her eyes, eager for this dressing down to be done with. Where was his lordship? Surely Lord Edward would defend her.
“I shall call you Molly,” Lady Serise said, settling the matter as she did everything in the household, from arguing with Cook over trussing a pheasant to cutting down on expenses by dying her gowns a new color each season to make them appear new.
And that wig. Rumor had it that it once graced the head of a French aristocrat who willed it to her ladyship’s great-grandmother before Madame Guillotine could claim it.
Molly would also discover that her ladyship kept a tight rein on the day-to-day activities at Malworth Hall in the absence of a dutiful wife for her younger brother, Lord Edward, a bachelor. His lordship had no intention of finding himself tied down, which suited the Lady Serise. She was a woman of substance but also rather eccentric.
Such as her menagerie of animals. A monkey, numerous parrots, tropical fish swimming in the garden ponds, felines brushed with tawny and white fur, and a pair of hunting hounds roamed freely throughout the manor.
A quiet, orderly life where supper was served at eight every night of the year, including holidays. And nothing had changed.
“Her Grace, the Duchess of Asquith, is coming to tea, Molly, the day before Valentine’s Day,” her ladyship said, standing. The monkey on her shoulder grabbed onto a low-hanging chandelier and began swinging back and forth, making the girl duck. “I must have all these invitations to the ladies of the town sent out by tomorrow morning.”
“Y–yes, your ladyship,” Molly said, her eyes moving right then left and back again, watching the monkey. What did tea with the duchess have to do with her?
“I have been told by my brother Edward that you have the most magnificent–” she began then stopped, diverted by the monkey’s antics.
Molly blushed. Had his lordship told her about their secret trysts?
Exasperated, her ladyship grabbed the playful monkey off the chandelier and handed him to a stiff doorman. She finished her thought with: “Penmanship.”
Molly let out the deep breath she had been holding. “Thank you, your ladyship,” she said, relieved.
“I shall pay you the sum of one guinea to address these invitations if you finish the deed before tomorrow morning.” She indicated Molly should take her place at the desk. “Everything must be perfect for Her Grace’s visit. It has been years since we’ve had such an esteemed visitor here at Malworth Hall.”
Her ladyship failed to mention that her aberrant ways, most notably her idiosyncrasy of keeping a plethora of animals residing in the manor, kept the local upper class ladies from calling at the social hour. It seemed, however, the duchess was a curious sort and had heard about the whimsical Lady Serise and wanted to see for herself if the rumors were true.
Looking at the long list, Molly gasped. “Is there no one here but me to help you, milady?”
“No. Unfortunately, none of the servant girls can read or write,” she said, then she leaned over and whispered in Molly’s ear, “I have tried to convince them to better themselves, but they will have none of it.” She sighed. “Would it be that I had been bolder when I was their age. Then I wouldn’t have ended up a sorry old spinster.”
Old? Molly questioned. Her ladyship couldn’t be more seven and twenty years.
“What about his lordship?” she asked aloud, looking everywhere for Lord Edward but he had not made an appearance.
“My gadabout brother left for Paris this morning, but he has vowed to be here to greet the duchess.” The distraught woman sighed and Molly well understood her feelings about the roguish nobleman. “He is a dear but not given to understanding that his place is here at Malworth Hall and not cavorting abroad with pretty mamselles.”
Molly smiled, silently agreeing with her ladyship and eager to get started with her task. With a guinea she could buy a new bonnet and red-and-white striped stockings with lace garters when next she enjoyed a tryst with Lord Edward. For she believed that no matter how pretty a backside a French mamselle turned toward him, an English arse was vastly superior.
Such naughty thoughts occupied her mind over the course of the next several hours and well into the night as she wrote one fancy name after another in her curly handwriting on the ivory linen invitations.
Until finally she finished her task in the wee hours of the morning when she found herself being driven home in an elegant Brougham carriage with a driver and a footman.
And a guinea clenched in her hand.
Sleepy-eyed and dreaming of her next tryst with his lordship and her wearing her new red-and-white stripped stockings, Molly concluded that would be the end of her adventure with her ladyship.
Or so she thought.
The saucy lass was helping her father, the vicar, assemble the prayer books for the Sunday next services when another note came from Malworth Hall. Lady Serise requested her presence at tea.
The day before Valentine’s Day when the Duchess of Asquith was due to arrive.
“Me, Molly Pearlbottom,” she questioned the footman in the fancy livery awaiting her answer. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, miss.” He told her he had instructions to call for her at two in the afternoon on the appointed day.
Molly couldn’t believe her ears. She was going to take tea with the duchess. And his lordship would also be there.
Molly was in a state of high anticipation by the time she arrived at Malworth Hall on the day before Valentine’s Day. Fancy carriages and fancier ladies wearing exquisite hats with long, swaying plumes tarried and gossiped, while stiff-collared and white stockinged servants proffered cakes with vanilla butter cream frosting and tarts with sugar-glazed fruits and marzipan that stuck to the roofs of their mouths.
“It was Edward’s idea that I send for you, Molly,” her ladyship said, primping her wig with her long fingers. Her pet monkey sat on her shoulder, pulling on the pearls hanging from her off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. “I should have thought of it myself, but I have been so frazzled getting reading for Her Grace’s arrival.”
“Then Lord Edward has returned from Paris, milady?” Molly asked, her buttocks contracting with delightful sensations she didn’t try to stop.
“Yes, my dear, he’s–oh, there is Her Grace now!”
Blinded by her need to be the perfect hostess, Lady Serise picked up her silk skirts and raced toward the arriving noblewoman, not realizing her pet monkey couldn’t hold on. Screeching loudly, the frightened animal jumped off her shoulder and grabbed on to the long train of her gown. Holding on and making raucous noises, he rode on her ladyship’s train, tipping his hat to the ladies whose names Molly had so studiously written on the invitations.
Ladies now beside themselves, twittering with laughter and whispering cruel remarks behind their teacups about their hostess.
How dare they ridicule her ladyship after all the hard work she did putting on this tea for them so they could make the acquaintance of Her Grace, Molly thought angrily. The nerve of them.
“What are you ninnies laughing at?” she said, taking them on, hands on her hips.
“Who is she?”
“Some servant girl, most likely.”
“How dare she speak to us like that!”
Molly didn’t that stop her. She continued, “Lady Serise is a grand lady who has a big heart and takes good care of her animals,” she said, pulling the squealing monkey off her ladyship’s long train. “All you ladies have are big arses.”
Ignoring their agitated outrage and finger pointing in her direction, Molly spun around so quickly she bumped into the Duchess of Asquith, holding a plate filled with cakes topped with a mound of raspberry butter cream frosting–
And spilling gooey, fluffy butter cream all over Molly and Her Grace.
It was a day of madness madder than a silly rabbit’s tea party with the rustle of silk and shocked indignations bantered about as Lady Serise pulled off her wig in frustration and tossed it over the monkey’s head to quiet him down. Then, in a reserved, dignified tone, she announced to the cackling pullets in silk that the afternoon’s festivities had ended.
No one was sadder than Molly. Covered with butter cream frosting and certain she was about to be sacked and never again invited to Malworth Hall.
I imagine you are quite alarmed by this turn of events when I promised you a naughty spanking. But I am not a scribbler who taunts her reader with provocative titles then does not deliver.
The naughtiest morsel of my tale, dear lady reader, is at hand.
“I saw how you interceded on my sister’s behalf, Molly,” Lord Edward said but an hour later, his fingers softly caressing her bottom under her cotton chemise. “How you stood up to those women and forced them to look at themselves in a cold, harsh light.”
Molly wiggled under his touch, soothed by his words and his probing fingers. Hard to believe that she, Molly Pearlbottom, was lying on top of a cream-colored satin coverlet trimmed with rose-pointed lace in what was called The Royal’s Bedroom (named after a titled personage on the outs with the government who spent the night at Malworth Hall with his mistress during the time of Oliver Cromwell).
After the “incident,” as she called it, Lady Serise had insisted Molly wash up and change her soiled clothes. No sooner had she given her dress stained with frosting to the maid when Lord Edward sneaked into the room through a secret passageway.
Oh, the fun she was having with him here, pinching her flesh and making her giggle and squirm.
“I had to do something, your lordship.” Molly shivered when he ran his hand down her leg and clasped her ankle then squeezed it. Tight. She was deliriously happy she was wearing her new red-and-white striped stockings. “I couldn’t let those drivel-nosed old women mock your sister like that.”
He said, “It’s not every lass who has the courage to do what you did, Molly.”
“I only did what my father, the vicar, taught me.” She leaned against his broad chest and nuzzled her face into the warm spot on his shoulder. She felt protected and safe.
“And what was that, Molly?” his lordship asked in a polite manner, but Molly could see by the bulge in his trousers that he was burning with impatience for what she hoped would be a pleasurable afternoon after all.
“Not to let anyone take advantage of someone when they’re down, even if they are your betters,” she stated with assurance. Lady Serise wasn’t a bad sort. In fact, she rather liked her. Monkey, wig and all.
Lord Edward snickered. “I have never seen my sister so befuddled, especially when you said her guests had ‘big arses–‘ ”
“I pray her ladyship has recovered,” Molly said, lowering her head and trying to appear meek, though she wasn’t ashamed of what she did. Those old drones deserved to be put into their place.
“She is a bit overwrought,” Lord Edward said, licking raspberry frosting off her nose then her chin, “but secretly pleased to be rid of those sniveling harridans and their pompous manners.”
“And the duchess?” she dared to ask, wishing his lips would move to her breasts and taste them.
“She is properly amused by the entire affair.” He leaned Molly over his knee, stroking her bottom, then passing his hands up to her breasts and lingering there momentarily to twist her nipples, impassioning her fervor. “She and the Lady Serise are enjoying a chat in her private sitting room. I haven’t heard my sister laugh so much in years.”
“Then her ladyship is not angry with me?” she asked, lifting her head. She was desperate for him to spank her, but he pulled her up to a standing position instead.
“Angry? She insisted I make arrangements for you to purchase a new gown at the finest shop in Newcastle and send her the bill.”
“Milord, I cannot believe my good fortune.”
“I am so proud of you, Molly,” he said, picking up a wrapped package she hadn’t noticed before sitting on the blue silk meridienne. “I was going to give you this present on Valentine’s Day, but under the circumstances I want you to have it now.”
“For me, milord?” she asked in an expectant voice. What was in the package he was hiding behind his back? His riding crop?
She began to quiver and shake with a scintillating excitement she could barely control.
He cocked his head to one side, teasing her. “Something I know you will like.”
Before he could utter another word, she ripped open the package and pulled out a pair of pink satin bloomers with white lace cuffs and long red ribbons.
“They are beautiful, milord,” she cried out, never having owned satin drawers before, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment at not seeing his favorite crop. Her lower lip curled upward in a pout.
“Are you not pleased with the garment, Molly?” he asked, dismayed. “I bought them especially for you in Paris.”
“Oh, yes, milord,” she said, her eyes widening, then: “But I was hoping you wanted to play our little game.”
He smiled. “Oh, but I do.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You do?”
“Yes, Molly. These are special bloomers for my favorite Valentine.”
He motioned for her to turn them around. Molly squealed when she saw two big hearts cut out, one on either side of the buttock cheeks.
She knew what that meant. “Oh, milord!”
“Put them on, Molly, and show me your beautiful arse,” he said, pulling on a pair of fine gray leather gloves. She heard him draw in his breath, knowing only a good spanking could assuage the hunger they both craved, eager as they were to indulge in the pleasure of their private game.
“Yes, milord.” Grabbing the drawers, Molly slipped on the silky pantaloons in the flick of an eye blink then bent over, smacking herself on the buttocks. “I am ready to receive my Valentine’s Day present.”
“And so you shall have it!” he said, his voice hoarse and needy, his eyes bedeviled with intent, his breathing coming faster as he raised his hand then brought it down hard on her waiting backside.
Molly cried out again and again each time he brought down his hand on her exposed pink flesh peeping through the cut-out hearts, hitting his mark with precision and tinting her nude skin a deep rosy red while she writhed about on the fancy royal coverlet, her body in total surrender.
She moaned over and over, giving in to a rising sensual heat, then arching her back in a surge of wild excitement that made Lord Edward gasp.
“My dear Molly, you are a wonder.” His lordship laughed then slapped her buttocks again with his gloved hand, making her quiver and shake with delicious contractions she could not control. Nor did she wish to.
“I pray her ladyship…will ask me back again…to Malworth Hall,” Molly said, trying to get her breath.
“I am certain she will, Molly,” Lord Edward said, laughing. “You have the most magnificent–”
“Your lordship!” she cried out, putting her hand over her mouth.
“Penmanship,” he finished with a sly smile, then kissed the enflamed red hearts on each of her nude buttocks and making her sigh.
Ah, yes, ’twas a grand day for Molly, who not only received a naughty spanking from his lordship, but made an ally in her quest to better her station in life under the guidance of the eccentric Lady Serise.
I wonder where it will lead as we follow The Misadventures of Molly Pearlbottom.
What you do you think, dear lady reader?
NEW: The Blonde Samurai:
“She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”