The Queen Meets her Match
By
Barnabus
Written:
7/1/06 - 9/23/06
Revised:
xx/xx/xx
(Queen of Hearts, M/F, first time, rape, reluctance
and consensual sex.)
SUBJECT:
The Queen of Hearts is dominated . . . and likes
it!
WARNING:
This is an adult story, containing sensitive material
of a sexual nature. If you find such
material offensive or are underage, do not read further, but please bypass this
story for one more suitable for you.
The
Queen of Swords, a.k.a. Senorita Maria Teresa Alvarado, Marta, her servant,
Colonel Montoya, Captain Grisham, ‘and that stupid Corporal, I don’t remember
what his name is’ are copyrighted, trademarked, and owned by Fireworks
Productions. No infringement of copyright is intended or revenue expected
from their use in this story. This is nothing but a parody of this fine TV
show. I am specifically borrowing
Teresa for my own pleasure. The man,
Jorge, is my creation and belongs to me.
This is a work of fan-fiction. This story is written for enjoyment and
entertainment purposes only, and no commercial profit is expected to be made
from it. It may be copied for personal
use or for posting on other sites, provided they are free sites . . . it may
NOT be posted on any site that requires a "membership fee" of any
kind. This includes ‘adult verification
sites’. This story may NOT be posted to
any site requiring an AVS where money is involved, or an AVS, which sells its
mailing list or member’s information to outsiders. (Hey, let’s be fair! If
I’m not going to make money from my work, why should someone else?)
(If
you do copy this story to another web page, please give me the courtesy of an
e-mail, so I can see where my work is going.
Who knows? Maybe you’ll
introduce me to a new favorite website.
Like most stories of this ilk, at the end of the story (unless there is
a sequel) the characters are magically returned to their original condition,
undamaged, unharmed, and unchanged in any way with no memory of the events that
have taken place. . . It is as if the story had never happened,
because, after all, it never really did.
The
story is set in Alta California, part of Mexico, ergo, a colony of Spain, circa
1817.
It
takes place before the use of birth control, however I suspect some people had
developed a concept of ‘the rhythm method’ even in this early date. In 'real life’ every reasonable adult should
know that he or she should behave responsibly when participating in sexual
activities and he or she wishes to avoid unwanted conception and the spread of
disease.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A mainstay for any writer is feedback from the
readership.
I would greatly appreciate any comments or reviews of
this story,
both positive and negative.
Feedback is welcome and accepted at barnabus329@hotmail.com.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Alta California, circa 1817
Chapter 1: Robbed of her virtue.
“Mercy,
por favor!”
But
there was no mercy in the eyes of the masked stranger as he pulled off one of
her boots, and immediately followed by pulling her tight pants down and off of
that foot, bunched around her remaining boot leaving her naked from the waist
downward. Quickly he tied her bare
ankle to a tree leaving her spread eagled between four trees, but not tightly
stretched. He sat back on his haunches
and admired his handwork as she struggled, unsuccessfully, to get free.
“You
are a beautiful sight to behold,” he commented in his perfect Castilian
Spanish, almost as if he had stepped directly out of the royal court onto the
frontier of Alta California. “Helpless,
and totally at my mercy!” As if to
emphasize his point, he fondled her breast through her black silk shirt. Almost arrogantly, his hand ran casually
over both of her breasts. Pleased and
impressed by what he felt, he loosened the laces on her corset and pulled open
her blouse. Squatting beside her, his
smooth fingers (there were no calluses there: he was not a man who did physical
work) explored her well shaped, half cantaloupe breasts, before his hand
traced downward across her firm belly, passing over the loose lacings of her
corset and casually stopping over the black, curly hair of her exposed pubic mound.
“Is
that fear I see in your pretty eyes, Senorita?” he asked.
Of
course Tessa was afraid! She felt the
shame of defeat at being captured by
this . . . this stranger, having her blouse and pants
stripped from her and being bound spread-eagled where he could take whatever
advantage of her he wished. She gasped
as his fingers began to massage her pubis and seek out sensitive places. “No, don’t do that, por favor,” she
breathed, trying to pull away from him.
“And
why not? After all, to the victor goes
the spoils! And I have captured
you. You would not deny me the fruits
of my victory, would you?”
“I
don’t suppose you could just cut me loose and set me free? Uuhhhhh!”
Tess gasped. He was no longer
caressing her pubis but had separated her nether lips and one finger was
entering her.
“No,
that was not an alternative I had considered,” he replied, his finger circling
the very entrance to her vagina, gradually seeking access.
Tessa
was much too frightened and nervous to realize how moist she had become.
“Madre
de Dios!” she cried as his finger began pressing against her taunt hymen. “Stop, I beg of you!”
He
stopped, eyes widening. “The Queen of
Swords is a virgin?”
Blushing
with shame, the Queen of Swords nodded.
She was reduced to begging.
“Please, Senor, remove your finger.
Do not deflower me! Do no deprive me of my purity. I am a maiden and must remain a virgin until
my wedding night!”
“You’re
right,” he agreed. The masked villain
withdrew his finger but slid it enticingly around the Queen’s clitoris causing
her to stiffen at the unexpected stimulation. “The flower of a woman’s
innocence is much to precious to be lost to a casually roving finger. It would be a pity to waste the proof of a
beautiful woman’s chastity so carelessly.”
He
rose on his knees and unfastened his pants.
“There is a much more satisfying way to assist a woman to cast aside her
virtue. We will relieve you of your virginity in the old-fashioned way!”
“Nooo!!! Senor, I beg of you . . . .” the queen began, her words being cut off as his pants fell to his knees exposing what looked like an enormous erect male instrument. It was the first fully aroused adult penis she had ever seen. The Queen was at a loss for words, staring at his manhood, until she realized he was moving between her widely spread thighs.
“Senor, I am a virgin!” she pleaded. “Do not deprive me of my honor . . . . uuuhhhh!” He had lowered himself onto her and, seemingly without effort, his maleness moved slowly between her labia.
“‘Honor’
and virginity are vastly overrated,” he commented unsympathetically, “They are
virtually impossible to prove.
Innocence is at best, an abstract concept. Purity is a simple state of mind. You can surrender your maidenhood and it will never be
missed. Chastity and virtue are little
more than hoaxes perpetrated by many women.”
“Senor,
stop! I beg you! I’ll do anything yoooouuuuuuu . . .”
The head of his member was moving into her, separating her outer
lips. Her eyes were wide with fear and
recognition of what was happening.
“No,
please! Madre de Dios!” she cried out
as he penetrated deeper, pressing against her taunt hymen. “Have mercy on me! Spare me! Don’t do this!”
He paused, feeling her spasm around him, tensely clenching her muscles in an effort to prevent his entry. “Is the famous Queen of Swords actually begging?”
“Yes,
I beg you! Don’t deflower me! I would be ruined. It would make me a puta!”
“It
would only make you a puta if someone else knew about it. I certainly don’t plan on telling
anyone. Do you?”
“I
could have a baby! I could never face
the shame! I would be branded a
harlot!” She was painfully aware of his
throbbing manhood, at the entrance of her vagina, pressing dangerously against
her maidenhead. “Please, Senor, take it
out!”
“My
poor, frightened child,” he cajoled.
“It’s so difficult for me to see how frightened you are with that mask hiding
your face. Here, I’ll remove it.” And with a stroke of his hand, he swept the
mask up over her forehead revealing her face.
“Noooooo! Not my mask! Noooo!” the queen cried, but it was too late. Although her face was exposed, somehow
she had the presence of mind to keep her vaginal muscles tightly clenched,
desperately trying to keep him from completing his theft of her virtue. He stared at her features, not recognizing
her.
“You
are indeed beautiful,” he complimented, kissing her on the forehead. “Now, try to relax. I do not want to cause you unnecessary
pain.” He slowly pressed deeper into
her moist vagina and she cried out as the pain of her stretched hymen
increased. She clenched her muscles as
tightly as she could.
“Senor . . . . please . . . do not dishonor me . . . “
“I _WILL_
take your virginity today,” he stated as casually as if he were discussing the
weather, “with or without your cooperation.
Now try to relax. I do not want
to hurt you.”
Tessa
knew that it would hurt when she lost of her virginity . . . she had heard
enough stories from other women . . . and the pressure on her maidenhead now
was excruciating.
“Senor
. . . . don’t do this . . .!”
“Relax!”
He had said he didn’t want to hurt her. His words were soft, soothing, reassuring, almost hypnotic. And she was SO afraid. And the pain and distress flooded her with sensory overload. Tessa’s mind was almost shut down. He had told her to relax, and she obeyed.
Feeling
her muscles beginning to relax, he smiled and paused for a moment. “That’s a good girl,” he whispered and
backed off slightly. Thinking he had
ceded to her request, Tessa let her muscles relax as completely as she could,
considering the fear and stress she was feeling. Once she had relaxed, he moved again, slowly but unfailingly
forcing his daunting member deeper into her.
Realizing
her error, she clenched her muscles tight, but he had passed the point where
she could stop him. His
prodigious penis pressed deeply into her resisting womanhood, sliding between
her puffy, vaginal lips. She spasmed
before the onslaught on her virtue.
.
Her
hymen gave way, cruelly depriving her of her virginity!
Tessa’s
scream echoed off of the canyon walls as the proof of her innocence was
forcefully torn from her. Her scream
continued as her purity and virtue, indeed the very flower of her chastity was
shredded, brutally demolished by the massive masculine assault.
The sense of loss and defeat swept over her like a shroud and she screeched once more.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 2: Tessa goes home.
Tessa lay devastated, barely aware of the movements of
her attacker. She was violated and
soiled, paralyzed by the trauma, the humiliation of her assault. Without a word her assailant rose and pulled
up his pants. He helped himself the
saddlebags containing Santa Helena’s tax money that the Queen had
‘appropriated’ from Montoya and had planned to return to the poor. Then, considerately, the man tethered Chico,
the Queen’s beloved stallion, to a nearby tree. Pausing to study his bound, almost comatose captive, he decided
she was no present threat to him, so he bent to loosen her bonds.
“You are truly a fine woman,” he commented, kissing her
on the forehead. Then, quickly mounting
his own horse, he was gone.
Aching
all over, but especially in her pubic area, Tessa managed to work herself free
from the leather bindings. Operating
more on instinct than anything else, she managed to pull her pants and shirt
back into place and retrieve her boot, mask and weapons. Her corset hung from her shoulders, loose
with the laces hanging free.
Fighting
the depression of having lost her virginity, it required all of her dispirited
strength to pull herself into Chico’s saddle.
Chico
took her home and Tessa’s next memory was of her faithful gypsy servant, Marta,
helping her from the saddle. In shock
and overcome by melancholy from the brutal attack that had robbed her of her
virtue, Tessa blindly allowed Marta to take her into the hacienda, bathe her
and dress her in her night clothes.
Marta gave her strong coffee laced with brandy and required Tessa to
walk and exercise until her exhaustion and rebellion began to draw her
traumatized mind from its dazed state and back to reality. Finally, Marta tucked her into her warm
bed. It was only then that Tessa was able
to pour out the story of how she had been captured, beaten and raped. The experience was horrible! Tessa, and Marta by association, were both
felt the anguish and suffering.
Of
course, there was there was no way she could report the rape since it had been
the Queen of Swords who had been raped.
And even if she could, it would only cause humiliation to her family,
friends, even the entire community. It
wasn’t right what had happened to her.
No one, not even the Queen of Swords, deserved to be assaulted. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her
any more than her rapist deserved to get away with it. A man did it to her. He did it against her will! Her life wouldn’t be hers any more. Neither she nor the Queen of Swords would
ever be the same after that night.
Rape, or at least reported rape, was very rare in Alta
California. It was an unthinkable
crime! Women were in short supply on
the frontier, so they were accorded special respect and courtesy, a certain
veneration valued above everything else.
Violation of a woman, especially a Spanish noblewoman, was unthinkable
for most men.
Whores
were the exception, and for that reason houses of prostitution were generally
welcomed in almost every frontier town, at least until enough families were
present to demand ‘respectability’, accordingly driving the whores out of town.
Even though there was a considerable Spanish Police
presence, an accused rapist was more likely to face a lynch mob than a
hangman’s rope.
But once it became known that a respectable woman had
been violated, even though it might be through no fault of her own, she became
an outcast, someone no longer worthy of any respect, shunned forever by her
village because she had been sullied and thus, was no longer suitable for association
with the good citizens of her community.
This would be true of a rich noblewoman as well as a peasant. And,
unfair as it was, the victim of a rapist would become pariah.
Of course, if a rape victim was a peasant, she could
become a puta, a common prostitute.
That option wasn’t available to Tessa.
Fortunately,
Tessa did not have to go through the recovery alone. Marta would be constantly by her side offered her enormous
support. But all Marta could do was
listen, and offer her sympathy, joining her outrage with Tessa’s.
Mercifully
for Tessa, her ‘monthlies’ came the next day assuring her that she would not
carry her rapist’s child. Nonetheless,
she had been raped and suffered from the trauma of the assault.
Chapter 3: A
visit from the Ambassador and his entourage.
For
days, Tessa was “indisposed”, lying in her bed, suffering from fits of tears
and depression, waking in the night screaming.
Marta faithfully remained by her side, comforting her and caring for
her, encouraging her, bathing her, ordering food and insisting that Tessa eat,
demanding that Tessa respond.
On
the fourth day, as her monthly flow came to an end, Marta reminded Tessa that
an ambassadorial delegation would be visiting Santa Helena and that Tessa had
promised to provide dinner and a reception for the visiting dignitaries. Marta had dutifully completed all of the
arrangements so that all that was required of Tessa was her presence.
Although Tessa was still deeply depressed from her rape,
she knew that her physical wounds had healed and that it was time to take her
place as Dona Maria Teresa Alvarado, Spanish noblewoman and owner of this
valuable hacienda.
At
the appointed hour, Dona Tessa Alvarado greeted the Spanish ambassador when he
entered her hacienda. But her eyes
fixed immediately on the man behind the ambassador. The ambassador introduced him as his aide-de-camp, Jorge
Maldonado. Senor Maldonado was a young
Spanish nobleman, slightly older than Tessa, the second son of a count,
therefore of higher rank than Tessa.
He was also the man who had raped her!
The arch of his eyebrow told Tessa that Jorge had
recognized her also and Tessa remembered that he had seen her face without her
mask. Both Tessa and Jorge acknowledged
each other as they were introduced, pretending that this was their first
meeting.
As the evening progresses, Marta collected gossip
about Jorge. He was the second son of a
ranking Spanish count, and as second son, he was unlikely to receive any
significant inheritance. He lived the
life of a roué, and it was implied that he had disgraced his family in Spain
and they arranged to have him shipped off to the new world of Spanish
California where he wouldn’t be able to get into trouble. The Ambassador would soon be leaving to
continue his diplomatic tour, but he would leave Jorge behind in Santa Helena
as the Ambassador’s representative.
As Marta reported this to her mistress, Tessa was
terrified that she would see Senor Maldonado again. He knew Tessa’s secret identity as the Queen of Swords.
As the reception was coming to an end, Jorge found an
opportunity to whisper to Tessa that he would return later in the evening so
that they can have a little talk.
Chapter 4: An
evening visit.
When the guests had left, the servants scurried to
clean up. But Tessa experienced a
unique form of torture, waiting in dread for the knock on the door announcing
his return. As a noblewoman and the
head of her own hacienda, it was required that she greet him. But her emotions vacillated between despair
and deep depression, since, emotionally, she had still not yet recovered from
her rape.
After an endless delay, there was a knock at the door,
and Tessa, determined to be a respectable Spanish lady, took an iron hold on
her emotions to meet her visitor. As
proper Spanish hostess, she had him brought to the patio where she greeted him,
formally and stiffly.
Jorge eyed the senorita with obvious lust, making her uncomfortable. He had fantasized that his victim had actually enjoyed the experience they had shared and that she might even have fallen in love with him. Now that he had the opportunity, he had contacted his victim after the attack and wished to spend time with her. Of course, the reality of the rape hadn’t lived up to his fantasies, and hadn’t satisfied his underlying obsession, so he was determined to try again. And since Tessa was available . . . and since he knew her dual identity, he had a strong blackmail tool to use against her.
After the two had settled on the Patio and Marta had
poured a glass of wine for each of them and retired. Once the two of them were alone, Teresa asked her guest the
purpose of his visit.
“You are beautiful, wealthy, and charming” Jorge replied, pausing to sip the wine. He took a moment to savor its taste. “Hmmm! A very good vintage! I am impressed!”
Quickly, he returned to the subject at hand. “You live in a fairly large, and I might add, secluded hacienda with only a few servants, all of whom I’m sure appear to be extremely loyal and discreet. I’m sure the secrets of this hacienda are upheld with the utmost discretion.
“I am sure these are not the reason you wished to speak to me, Senor,” Teresa replied, the perfect hostess.
“Furthermore,” Jorge continued as if she had not spoken, “you are a lady with a secret that she desperately wishes to keep undisclosed. A secret that *_I_* happen to know. Perhaps we can negotiate to see if there is something that you can offer me in return for me keeping your secret.”
“It
sounds like you are talking blackmail, Senor.
But supposing for the moment that your supposition is correct, what
would be your price to keep this hypothetical secret? As you probably already know, I have a certain amount of wealth,
but there are limits to my resources,” the Dona replied.
“Ah, directly to the point.” Jorge smiled. “I like
that. All right. I have no interest in your money. This is my price. Since I am exiled in this God-forsaken
colony of Alta California, you will become my mistress for as long as I am
here. You will share your bed with me
whenever I ask and do whatever I wish.
You will submit to my every request.
And, of course, both of us will be discreet and keep the confidences we
know about each other.”
Tessa rose to her feet, shock in her eyes, and a
feeling of sick repulsion in the pit of her stomach because she feared that in
the end, Jorge might get everything he had just demanded.
“Senor, you have insulted me in every way possible,”
she exclaimed. “Your words are not the
words of a gentleman nor a man of honor!
I am a lady, and in my own house.”
Tessa placed her wineglass on a table.
“Perhaps it is best if I leave, more for your benefit than for
mine.” She started for the door.
Jorge
admired her display of breeding, and his opinion of her rose in his estimation.
“Senorita
Queen of Swords . . .” Tessa hesitated
at these words.
“I don’t care about the activities of the infamous Queen,
but I’m sure that a word whispered to Colonel Montoya, Captain Grisham, or even
that stupid Corporal, I don’t remember what his name is, would quickly lead the
infamous queen to the gallows, and her entire household would follow.
Tessa refused to give him the satisfaction of looking at
him. With her back turned, she asked,
“You mentioned discretion and keeping confidences. Tell me, how many people know that you returned to my hacienda
tonight?”
“No one. As I said, my discretion is guaranteed.”
Teresa moved fast and in
an instant, she was facing him holding the thin blade of a stiletto to his
throat.
“If no one knows you are
here, then I could kill you now and your secrets would die with you!”
Jorge did not flinch but
replied, “That is true. But the Queen
of Hearts has a reputation for capturing and humiliating her enemies.” Slowly he raised his hand and continued, “The Queen of Hearts does not commit
gratuitous murder!” Gently he pushed
the knife away from his throat.
The man had done his
homework. Tessa was not a cold-blooded
murderer. “That may be true,” she
replied, allowing the blade the be pushed from Jorge’s throat, “but are you
aware that I have servants who do not share such scruples?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Jorge replied,
again admiring her resourcefulness.
“But by the same token, you would have no way of knowing that I’ve
prepared letters to Montoya, Grisham, and others. Each letter has been entrusted to someone with the instruction
that it is to be delivered if I am dead of if I disappear,” carefully, he
removed the blade from her hand setting it on the table, “so I’m sure it is in
your best interests . . . and your servants’ also, that I remain alive and in
good health.”
“I do not admit to being
Queen of Swords,” Tessa stated simply, “but recently I have had . . . shall we
say . . . an unpleasant experience and I have no desire to enter into any form
of relationship with a man right now.”
The idea of a ‘fresh start’ or a ‘new beginning’ was not in Tessa’s
mind.
“I understand,” Jorge conceded. “Accepting what you have said, it appears, you have three
choices. First, you can kill me
outright, in which case you will either spend the rest of your life as a
fugitive or you will face arrest and the gallows as soon as the officials
receive my letters. Your second
option, refuse my conditions and face the same results.
“Your third option is to
accept my proposal, become my mistress for the next few months until I am
permitted to return to Spain. Then you
can continue to live your life as you live it now, and . . . shall we say . . .
your extra curricular activities and your efforts to protect the poor in this
area can continue uninterrupted.”
“Senor, you place me in
an impossible position. On one hand, I
must choose between loosing my life, and on the other hand, the loss of my
virtue, my honor, my chastity, my virgi . . . .” Tessa’s voice faded out.
“Ah, yes, Senorita,”
Jorge nodded. “You no longer have your
virginity. You lost that last
week. As for your virtue, chastity, and
honor, I suppose it is a matter of degree.
But you can no longer claim an absolute position.
“So come, accept my
proposal,” he continued. You will
protect your secret and you may even learn to enjoy sharing your bed and body
with me.”
Tessa wheeled to slap
him but he caught her wrist. “I like a
woman with fiery temperament!” he commented.
“Get a whore!” Tessa
spit out with as much venom as she could.
“There are many women in this village, some high born,
some base born. Any of them will suit
my physical needs. However, I would
prefer a noble woman with spirit such as you, yourself. But do not mistake my resolve. If you refuse me, you *WILL* go to
the gallows with your entire household.
On the other hand choosing to share your bed with me will cost you
nothing since there is no longer need to protect your virtue and purity. They have already been lost.”
Tessa had been devastated when she was raped. Now, she was in a position where her only
choice was to yield and submit herself to him! Any other choice would take not only her, but also
probably all of her household to the gallows.
Tessa’s eyes flashed a combination of shame and
hatred.
“You raped me, Senor!
You hurt me and left me tied between four trees! Has it occurred to you that I might find the
gallows preferable to the way you treated me?
For a moment he regretted his brutality when he had
raped her.
“I am sorry I treated you so harshly,” he
apologized. “That was before I had met
you. You were only a common outlaw and
outlaws do not deserve to be treated well.
Now that we have been properly introduced, I assure you I will treat you
much more respectfully and in keeping with your rank and station.”
Anger flashed in Tessa’s eyes. “And treating me like a whore is respectful
and in keeping with my rank and station?”
Jorge shrugged his shoulders, dismissively. “I can assure you that there are many respectable
women of your rank who behave like whores . . . with the utmost discretion, to
be sure . . . but you would be surprised at what happens behind their closed
doors.”
The reality of her position crushed Tessa beneath its
weight. She feared that inevitably she
would have to surrender.
Tessa was a normal woman
with the same feelings that probably every woman had. If it were not for her duties to protect ‘her people’ as Queen of
Swords, she probably would have returned to the Spanish court long ago to seek
a suitable husband. As it was, in this
isolated frontier community located in Alta California, there were few eligible
bachelors available and virtually none of her rank and station. To be honest, she was intensely lonely for
male companionship. Or she had been
before she had been so brutally raped a week before.
“Senor . . .”
There was a quiver in Tessa’s voice.
“I’m afraid! I am much more
afraid now than I would have been . . . before . . . before you . . .”
“I promise you I will treat your sweet person with
every courtesy and regard that it deserves:
much more gently and respectfully.”
Chapter 5: If
I accept . . .
Tessa’s shoulders
slumped. For the first time since he
met her, Jorge saw her behave in a fashion that was less than the aristocratic
noblewoman that she was. “If I accept your . . . proposal . . .” she asked,
“what would happen next?”
Jorge took a deep
breath. He had won! She was his! Now, it was simply a matter of working out a few of the
details. He felt his body responding,
his manhood stirring in anticipation.
“First, you will tell me
about your monthly cycles.” Tessa
blushed deeply at the prospect of talking about such a personal topic with a _man_,
but he interrupted her thoughts before she could express them. “It is necessary because there are only
certain days during a month when a woman’s body is ripe to conceive a
child. If you do not wish to bear my
child, it will be necessary to avoid sexual contact during these days so that
you do not unwittingly become pregnant.
Also, some women prefer not to have sexual contact during their monthly
period. (However, On the other hand,
some women prefer making love during their monthlies since that is the one time
during the month when they are absolutely certain they cannot conceive.)”
Slowly, as he spoke, the
realization came to Tessa that they were discussing more than a single
blackmail payment, a simple ‘one-night stand’. He planned to return to her bed repeatedlys And she would be expected to present her
body to him every time he came, like some courtesan . . . or a common whore . .
. or a wife. No, not a wife. Wives and husbands became used to each other
and . . . and did it less often.
A wife could refuse: Tessa had heard that. She was sure from the things that Jorge had said that she would
not have the freedom to refuse.
“Secondly,” Jorge
continued, “you will tell me what preparations you make before going to bed,
since we will probably begin our liaison tonight and I have no wish to disturb
your usual routines”
Tessa made a desperate
attempted to salvage her virtue once more.
“Senor, it sounds like you are describing a marital relationship. Perhaps we should send for a priest. If we were married, what you are describing
would at least be honorable.”
Jorge shook his
head. “As the son of a count, I cannot
marry without my father’s permission.
So, for the moment, we will have to leave out that step.”
Tessa desperately began
to raise every objection she could contemplate.
“If . . . when you leave
me . . . when the time comes for me to marry an honorable man, how will I
explain the absence of my maidenhead?”
“Give him a simple
explanation that your hymen was lost in a riding accident when you were
young. But assure him that you are a
virgin and he is your first. He may be
disappointed, but that sort of thing happens.
He will have no way of knowing that you are lying to him.
“Or, if you wish to give
him the ‘pleasure’ of taking your maidenhead,” Jorge continued, “prepare a
sponge with chicken blood and hide it in the headboard of your bed. When he enters you, cry out in apparent
agony and use the sponge to provide blood.
Almost any man will be convinced by the evidence of his ears and eyes.”
The suggestions of
deceit revolted Tessa. Still, he had
given her answers to questions that had been bothering her for the past week,
questions that would probably come up in the future.
“What happens if I
become pregnant?” she asked.
“Since I am the *second*
son of a count, and there is little chance of my inheriting the title, if you
conceive a child, I will defy convention and we will be married,” he conceded
magnanimously. “My father will be
furious that he was not consulted, but there will be little he can do.”
After having been
brutally raped, Tessa probably never would have formed a relationship with a
man again. But here she was being
coerced, blackmailed to enter into a liaison with Jorge - - - the very man who
had raped her.
Tessa took a deep
breath, once more reviewing her options.
She could either face the gallows with Marta and her other servants
beside her. Or she could yield to this
brute! On the other hand, he would be
returning to Spain . . . sometime . . . and that would force their relationship
to end. That is, if he hadn’t already tired
of her and ended their relationship as men are prone to do. And what he said about protecting her from
pregnancy sounded plausible. Perhaps it
_was_ possible to enter into a long-term illicit relationship and not
become pregnant. And he had promised to
marry her if pregnancy occurred.
As she repulsed by his
demands on her morality, there was no escape from his ultimatum. It was a simple choice: accept or die.
Reluctantly, she
revealed to him that her period had begun the day after the rape and had just
come to an end. Her normal period ran
like clockwork, every 28 days. By
revealing this information, she knew that she was telling him that this was a
time when she was not ‘fertile’, thus there was no reason why sex would be
prohibited between them tonight. Or for
the next week, for that matter.
Then she told him that
Marta always helped her prepare for bed, helping with her clothes and even
turning down the bedding for her.
Jorge instructed her to
have Marta prepare her for bed, and to tell Marta that Jorge would be remaining
with Tessa in her bedroom tonight.
Tessa agreed in a
subdued manner, and cautioned Jorge to remain in the patio. She advised him that it might take a little
period of time since Marta was very protective of her mistress, and was certain
to raise some objections that Tessa would have to deal with. She would have to give Marta an acceptable
explanation why she was permitting him to stay.
Jorge waited, sipping
his wine after Tessa had left. He did
not refill his glass . . . tonight was not a night to get drunk since he wanted
to remember everything that took place.
Eventually, Marta came for Jorge and led him, tight lipped but
discreetly, to Tessa’s bedroom door, before excusing herself.
Chapter 6: The first
night.
Tessa was wearing a
peignoir over a black silk sleeping garment.
There was little conversation as Jorge ran his hands over her silk
covered body causing her to shiver. He
moved behind her so he could hold her in his arms and caress her breasts. She gasped as he slid one hand downward to
explore her even more private parts.
“Senor . . .” she gasped out. Then she whispered, “I’m afraid!”
“Fear is
understandable. But I promise that I
will be gentle with you tonight,” Jorge promised.
She stood frozen as his hands left her and
moved to the ribbons tying the peignoir closed. Tessa made no objection,
trembling slightly, but remaining still as the peignoir opened and dropped to
the floor.
Immobile, she stood
waiting. She didn’t know what to
do. She had no idea how a new bride
would act and she certainly didn’t know how to behave like a whore. Her only actual sexual experience had been
when she had been raped, and then she had been bound as her most precious
possession had brutally stolen from her against her will. And that had been by the same man who had
just removed her peignoir.
Now, she was free . . .
if acquiescence to the base lusts of a man under threat of blackmail and
coercion could be considered the actions of a free person.
She felt she should be responding to him, but she
lacked the experience. She simply
didn’t know how.
She heard the rustle of
clothes as he undressed.
She was still suffering
from the trauma of the rape as he turned her to face him once more. And she was afraid! She could feel his body leaning toward her,
his lips moving closer. His kiss
repulsed her but it also touched her to her very core!
Jorge didn’t try to rush
the evening. He tried to treat her like
a virgin. Even though technically he
had taken her virginity a week before, this was the first time she had come to
him and he was joining her in her own bed.
He truly believed this was her first time making love with a man (as
opposed to being raped), and he wanted to be gentle with her, almost like a
considerate husband gently introducing his virgin bride to the physical side of
love or perhaps a nobleman initiating a virgin courtesan to her trade.
Always a practical man,
he knew that the way he treated Tessa tonight would certainly affect their
relationship for the next few weeks or even months. He felt he had a great responsibility to fulfill tonight.
He sat on the bed
leaning against the headboard, and drew her to sit on the bed, between his
legs, with her back to him. Slowly,
tenderly, he caressed her, softly touching her, exploring her, finding the
places where she responded to his touch.
He gently explored her breasts through her sleeping garment, finding her
nipples and gently grasping them, rolling them between his fingers.
While
every man had individual preferences, he preferred the body type revered in
novels and erotic engravings of his time: that is, he preferred women full in
the hips and thighs and buttocks. Such
women were obviously well prepared to bear children. Large breasts on a woman were impractical. It is true, he enjoyed playing with large
breasted peasant women, but only the young ones since large breasts quickly
began to sag and were suited only for wet nurses. However like most highborn men of the early 1800’s he preferred
medium to smallish, half cantaloupe breasts.
Whereas
Teresa had perfectly shaped, medium sized breasts, Jorge remembered the Queen
of Hearts and the corset that pressed those breasts upwards displaying a
womanly figure to be envied and presenting her breasts as luscious temptations
and distractions to any man.
He continued his
explorations, again searching out her most sensitive places until he was
satisfied that he had mapped out her body to his satisfaction.
Tessa did not complain when
the two of them moved beneath the bedding, although her nervousness increased
considerably as they moved ‘into bed’ together. The man who had raped her lifted the skirt of her sleeping
garment above her hips. Her lower body
was still concealed beneath the bedding and she was thankful that he didn’t try
to expose her completely. (She feared
that that would come later). He resumed
touching her; this time the touch was skin to skin. She felt goose bumps as he separated her nether lips and her body
trembled even though he caressed her with the finesse of a fine violinmaker
polishing a perfect instrument.
Jorge’s careful touch
was carefully calculated to start her lubricating without inciting great
excitement. She wasn’t ready for _real_
stimulation yet.
He was compassionate and
loving: nothing like the brute he had been the week before. His touch was a caress. His kisses were soft and sweet, but with
efficiently growing passion.
All too soon, the moment of truth was upon them. Tessa was painfully aware when he repositioned himself moving between her legs, separating them forcing her knees to bend, making contact with her.
Fearfully, her eyes
locked on his, and he slowly forced his way past her labia majora, entering her
womanhood, impaling her on his manhood, once more claiming her as his own (but
this time it was _with_ her consent).
She winced and tried to
withdraw into the bed, but there was no place to retreat. There was some small
pain as he moved into her, but nothing like when she had lost her
virginity. Still maintaining eye
contact, mesmerized, like a bird staring at an approaching cobra, her eyes
filled with tears as this brute tenderly but assertively took ownership of her,
depriving her of any virtue she still had:
Taking that which only her husband was entitled to have.
She was tight! Jorge liked that! He was annoyed that she was crying, and that she simply lay there
as he slowly moved into and out of her. He wanted her first time to be as pleasant an experience as possible,
and he didn’t want to hurt her. And
above all else, he didn’t want to do anything that would lead her to refuse
permission for him to return to her bed.
So he was true to his word: he was gentle, and although she was a little
sore, he didn’t hurt her.
It was the beginning of
her training to be his love-mate, and more lessons would follow. But nonetheless, Jorge was satisfied that he
was fucking one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, and he knew that
beneath her garment was a body that would bring him endless hours of
enjoyment. He took her with supreme
satisfaction! She had surrendered to
him and that filled him with fierce pride and joy.
She was passive, not
fighting or resisting him. The
excitement of such a beautiful, high-born woman who was virtually a virgin,
yielding to him in her own bed furnished great stimulation in itself and it
wasn’t long before he rose to climax, spurting his seed into her. When she realized what was happening, she
closed her eyes, and tears fell from the corners streaking down her face.
Jorge remained with Tessa and held her as she went
through the physical and emotional reaction of having sex for the first
time. Although she was repulsed with
the idea that he had defiled her bed and body, there was consolation in being
held in his strong arms, comforted and kissed gently as she tried to come to
terms with what had just happened to her.
Of course, Jorge had encountered highborn virgin
noblewomen before and knew the brainwashing they had received. He had plenty of time and knew that the most
satisfactory results would come if he proceeded slowly. If he exposed a noblewoman to too much
pleasure too rapidly, she ran the risk of becoming a total slut who not only would
be unsuited to return to her position as the imperious overlord, but also would
undoubtedly result in an angry father, fiancé or other protector coming after
him possibly challenging him to a duel to satisfy honor.
As Tessa was relaxing from the mental adjustments
involved, Jorge’s kisses become more insistent, more passionate.
He was not surprised when he was met with the usual
astonishment.
“Do you mean you want to do that again? Wasn’t once enough? You’ve taken my honor, now you wish to repeatedly
degrade me? I’m all wet!”
But ultimately, she submitted to her man.
He made love to her three times that night before he made
arrangements to meet the next night and he left to return to his own hacienda.
Chapter 7: The relationship grows.
All of her household whispered about the obvious
depression of their mistress during the next few days. She no longer displayed the fiery noble
spirit they all expected. She remained
in her room most of the time and spoke only with Marta.
Jorge visited her secretly every evening. At first she was repulsed by his continued
and repeated assaults on her virtue.
But she could find no way to avoid his attentions.
Slowly, he intensified the familiarity of their
interactions, and each new familiarity generated new sensations, each new
pleasure generating a certain amount of shame in her: touching her breasts, kissing her nipples through her nightgown,
sliding his hand beneath her night dress to touch her bare breasts and run his
fingers around her nipples, which caused much more of a response from Tessa
than Jorge expected. He also touched
her lower regions, but only caressed her clit and other hot spots in
passing. He wanted the best
results. And he wanted her to be able
to return to her role as a high born haughty noblewomen, the mistress of her
own estate when he left her - - - and he knew the time would come when he _would
_ leave her.
As their third night together came to an end, Tessa was
becoming accustomed to the sensations of being touched and having her body
entered and seeded by a man. She no
longer shuddered when he stroked her although she still gasped each time he
entered her. Some women did that. She no longer experienced pain as he entered
her since he usually stimulated her enough to generate sufficient
lubrication.
He had permitted her to play the role she had been
taught: to lie unresponsive as her partner satisfied himself using her body
(although, occasionally, he had felt her beginning to respond to him, rocking
her hips, moaning, before she realized what she was doing and forced herself to
return to her inert, passive acceptance of her role as blackmailed victim of
his coercion). By and large, she
learned to accept her role of permitting a man to use her body for his pleasure
and sexual release.
At the end of their
third night together, she felt obligated to invite him for dinner the following
night. It was the appropriate thing to
do.
At dinner, he was
charming and charismatic, a good conversationalist and an entertaining
guest. He become more attractive the
better Tessa got to know him.
After dinner, they sat
on the patio and talked. Tessa was
surprised by the honesty and straightforwardness of their conversation.
“Why is it, Senor,”
Tessa asked, “That so many husbands are unfaithful to their wives? I have noticed that this seems especially
true among the nobility.”
”You ask as if it were a
simple question,” Jorge Answered Tessa. “I doubt that anyone has a simple answer to that.”
“But you seem to be man
of the world. What do _you_
think?”
“I think that many
marriages among the upper class are arranged, and there is little love between
the husband and wife and certainly no passion.
The man is expected to ‘treat his wife with respect’, and to have
children with her. The suggestion of
pleasing a wife or husband is never considered. Indeed, some would consider a man’s attempting to please his wife
as treating her like a whore.
“Therefore, at the
urging of the church and the family, a husband will introduce his seed to his
wife in hope that she will become ‘with child’. And the quicker that occurs, the quicker he gains the respect of
his peers for having ‘done his duty’.
The woman, being a dutiful wife, will tolerate his advances.
“Unfortunately,” Jorge
continued, “love seldom enters the relationship. After all, love is a commodity that is reserved for King and
Country, and certainly nothing to be wasted on a woman, even a wife.
“And, if the man is a
hot blooded man as most Spaniards are, he will look for passion elsewhere,
often among the lower class women who don’t require ‘respect’ and who have
learned to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.”
“But that is a sin!”
Teresa objected.
Jorge shrugged. “Perhaps, but a few _Ave Marias_ and
a some _Pater Nosters_ and all is forgiven. At least in the eyes of the church. And the man is free to do it again at his leisure.”
“Is it impossible for a
man to be faithful to his wife?” Tessa asked.
“Is that simply outside a man’s nature?”
“Not at all. You see it all the time among the
peasantry.” Tessa realized that Jorge’s
words were true. Stories of infidelity
among lowborn families were much less frequent than the whispered gossip among
the nobility.
“What is different?”
Tessa asked.
“Peons meet and marry because
they love each other. Generally they
share passion for each other. And if a
man cheats on his wife, she is likely to either slit his throat or take the
children and return to her parents.
This never happens among the nobility.
“A peasant has more to
lose. A nobleman has little to loose,”
concluded Jorge. “His wife will never
attack him or leave him.”
“What can a noblewoman
do to protect herself and her marriage?” Tessa asked.
“Probably the best thing
she can do is to learn to please her husband, and then to make sure that she
keeps him satisfied at home so that he does not need to seek pleasure and
passion elsewhere.”
“And how can she do
that?” Teresa asked.
For a long time, Jorge
stared at Teresa, smiling, without answering.
Finally, he answered her question.
“She must ask him to treat her like he treats his mistress,” Jorge
answered. “She must ask him to teach
her the skills of a whore and a courtesan.
And she must practice and perfect the use of those skills. In short, she must learn how to behave like
a whore. But she can only practice
those skills in their marital bed!
“I might add,” Jorge
added, “that this may be difficult for both the husband and the wife, because
treating a wife like a whore is not treating her ‘respectfully’. And since nobility requires ‘respect’, this
may be a difficult hurdle for both husband and wife to clear.
“However,” Jorge stated,
adding even yet another caveat to their discussion, “Even with these
improvements to their marriage bed, the husband may still dally outside of
their marriage.”
Infinite sadness entered
Tessa’s eyes as she contemplated the possibility that even after these
Herculean efforts by a wife, her husband still might seek feminine
companionship elsewhere. “And what does
the wife do then?”
Jorge smiled. Tessa was the perfect student! And the conversation was headed exactly
where he wanted.
“If a woman is certain
that her husband has cheated on her . . . by the way, hiring a network of spies
is useful . . . she needs to let her husband know that until he repents and
promises to remain faithful to her and to satisfy *her* needs as well as
his own, she will never share her womanly charms with him again.”
“Will that work?” Tessa
asked.
“If she has nurtured his
love and passion early in their marriage so that he is convinced that she is
the best partner in the world for him, then it may work. If she has not bothered, he will simply turn
elsewhere and the poor woman will grow old, lonely and bitter.”
“Love is the soundest
basis for a marriage. But love, as with
every relationship, There is always risk involved,” Tessa observed.
“But without risk, there
are never the rewards that are possible.” Jorge sipped his wine again. “Tell me, Tessa, you are isolated here in
this frontier area. You are definitely
of marriageable age. How is it you have
never found a man and married?
Tessa sat back in her
chair and found herself agreeing with Jorge.
“Yes, there is a risk in every relationship. I’ve just never met anyone who was worth the risk.”
Both sat in silence for
a time.
“Jorge?” Tessa asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Will you teach me the
skills of a whore and a courtesan? Will
you teach me how to behave like a whore. . . . So that I can have those skills
for my marital bed when the time comes?
“It would be my
pleasure!”
Jorge suggested that it
was time that Tessa prepared for bed while he had a final glass of wine. While he waited, Jorge reflected on their
relationship. By and large, she had
accepted that sex would be an ongoing part of their relationship. It was time for Jorge to move on to the next
level.
That night, Jorge and
Tessa reclined on her bed. He made no
effort to remove her garments, but his hands explored much of her body,
stimulating her has he had not done before.
And Tessa experienced feelings she had never dreamed of! It was obvious that Jorge knew more about
her anatomy than she did. And although
they didn’t make love that night, under the skillful manipulation of his hands,
fingers and mouth, Tessa experienced her very first orgasm!
Jorge was
satisfied. He would not require more
from her tonight, even though she obviously desired even more intimacy. (Having
experienced one orgasm, she craved more.)
Chapter 8: The discovery of passion.
The next night, in the
privacy of Tessa’s bedroom, and with Jorge’s encouragement, Tessa reluctantly
permitted Jorge’s insistent hands to remove her nightgown and throw the
bedclothes aside. She lay
self-consciously in the flickering candlelight and tried to cover her breasts
and pubis with her hands. She was
intensely embarrassed at being naked in the presence of a man. As a lady of breeding, she believed that
only a puta would do such a thing. But
there was an incredible thrill flashing through her body when he touched her
naked breast and found the hard peaks, rolling them between his
fingers. To her embarrassment, it
seemed to cause more dampness than usual to form between her legs. Gently, Jorge nuzzled his way to her
breasts, kissing them, causing shivers to run throughout her body as he first
kissed her naked nipples. She couldn’t
begin to describe the sensation spreading from her curled toes to the tip of
her head when he took her bare nipple _into his mouth_ and began to _suck_
on it like a small child. Indeed, he
seemed to worship her naked body gently illuminated by the candlelight. And as he nursed on her nipples,
instinctively Tessa brought her hand up to support her breast and to steady it
for him.
This was probably the
first time, she realized, that she was actually participating in his ravishment
of her body.
A quick downward glance
revealed that he had grown to full erection as he nursed on her. She was startled at the erection! When a man became erect, she reasoned,
invariably he would want to use that erection.
And obviously SHE was destined to be the object of his arousal. And she began to take a perverse pride in
the fact that her naked body could have such an affect on a man!
At his first movement, she separated her legs, opening
the petals of her womanhood and willingly put her arms around his shoulders,
gestures that he noticed. Her erect
nipples pressed against his chest and his hard manhood sought the very center
of her being. He pressed the head of his member against her tender,
moist opening, nudging past the tingling, fleshy lips and paused, firmly
against her vagina’s damp opening. She
felt him profoundly, knowing only a tiny bit more pressure and he would
penetrate her. She arched her back to facilitate his entry and gave a gasp as
he sank into her. Her muscles clenched
him, not tightly as if she were trying to hinder his entry, but more of an
embrace, welcoming him into her most private place.
She had felt a thrill as he sucked on her nipples, and
now, for the first time, her womanhood began to tingle unexplainably as he
gently moved in and out, driving deeper into her with each thrust. She had marveled at the orgasm he had given
her last night. Could she do that
again? Did she _dare_ to? And tonight, he had thrilled her even more
in the foreplay before he entered her.
Now, he was very close to stimulating her in a special place . . . if
she moved her hips just a little . . . Uhhhhhhh! Yes! Ooohhh! Ohhhhh!
What was she doing? She had to
stop! She couldn’t . . . be . . . but
if she moved her hips to meet his thrusts . . . . Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . Oh,
yes! Yesssssssss!
And suddenly, without a
conscious decision, she leaped the chasm from calculated separation and passive
resistance to _intimacy_!
If she had thought about
it, she would have known both in her heart and mind that he still was not worth
the risk. But lust body had
taken over, obliterating any mental, emotional or moral reservations. He had fucked her for the past several days
and now she was fucking him back! Tessa
didn’t know how. But her body did. She just stopped thinking and let her body
take over.
Absolutely lost, Tessa
wrapped her legs around him and began to experiment with rolling her hips into
his, meeting his thrusts, slamming her hips into his, driving him deeper into
her, falling into synch with his body, kicking, flailing as she began moaning
and grunting. The effect on both of
them was breathtaking. She began to
tighten feverishly around him.
He had ignited a fire in
her soul that was spreading to the rest of her being. She was moaning, tears
forming in her eyes as her body yielded, quite of it’s own volition.
He was a man of some experience and skill, and with
her beginning to cooperate for the first time, he was able to take her toward
orgasm as they made love. Tessa was
passed the initial embarrassment of being with a man and he pushed her closer
and closer to a much anticipated, but terribly frightening consummation. Somewhere deep in her mind, she wondered
that if she came like this . . . what else would she do for him? And she knew that she was approaching the point
where she would not be able to refuse him anything.
She squealed as her
orgasm hit her, her hips bucking from the bed, her entire being tingling from
pure, absolute sexual energy, knowing that every lustful spasm was a result of
her adultery. Her whole body clenched
him to her for what seemed like hours until the climax passed and she
collapsed, wilting beneath him. The
experience of simultaneous orgasm left her euphoric. Her own orgasm was so awesome that it was only his convulsions
and the evidence of his seed seeping from her that confirmed that he had
climaxed also. It was an experience she
ached to repeat.
Gasping for breath, she
clung to him, her legs still hugging him to her, not permitting his softening
member to leave her. As she clung to
her lover, a man to whom she was _not_ married, the same man who had
raped her a week earlier. She
acknowledged to herself that sexual chastity, virtue and purity were no longer
hers. And her ‘honor’ would only be the
appearance she gave to others, a hoax that she would perpetuate until she
finally married.
But her conscience
bothered her that she was repeatedly committing a mortal sin that she knew was
terribly wicked and wrong. Before
tonight, she had not been an active participant, but that was no longer
true. Jorge’s words were proving
prophetic: Although she didn’t wish to
admit it, she was beginning to enjoy sharing her bed and body with him. And such pleasure was all the more sinful
since they were not married and morally she could not tolerate the idea of
pleasure from a sexual liaison outside of marriage.
She knew she should go
to a priest for confession and absolution.
But she also knew she had no intention of turning from her sinful
ways. And she would be embarrassed to
make such a confession to a priest of God.
How was it possible for a woman to enjoy sex so
much?
Her heartbeat returning
to normal, she still clung to Jorge as he held her close, his labored breathing
in her ear slowing, Tessa squeezed her internal muscles around his somewhat
limp manhood. And she was rewarded as
moments later he began growing once again inside of her. She squeezed again, eliciting a whimper
from him and found that she was bringing him to erection again.
She was thrilled as he
slowly started thrusting in her. She
had done that. She had that power. She had always heard snide remarks about how
noblewomen were cold and uncaring for their men, which was the reason why so
many noblemen sought female companionship in the taverns and among lower class
women. Tessa smiled. As she let her heels drop to the bed and
began thrusting her hips against Jorge, driving his manhood deeper into
her. She had cum a few minutes before,
but she felt the same tingle returning and she could change her movements so
that she gave both of them even greater pleasure. Deep inside her heart, there was still ambivalence about what she
was doing, but she didn’t care.
Jorge was grunting with
each thrust and Tessa began whimpering.
He was thrusting so hard, driving her up and down on the bed that her
breasts flopped wildly in response to each thrust. Never had he pounded into her so vigorously or so hard! She felt her body’s response to him growing
even greater than before and Jorge had to place a hand over her mouth to muffle
the cries she was making.
Without his hand in
place, Tessa’s scream would have roused the whole household as they both rose
to ecstasy together, Tessa bursting forth with a climax that had to be even
greater than Jorge’s as he spasmed, wheezing, spurting his semen deeply into
her.
Recovering from ecstatic
heights that she had never dreamed of, Tessa realized that, as a noblewoman,
everything she had been taught about sex was a lie! There was more to sex than a woman simply performing her wifely
duties to satisfy the base-born desires of a husband, something that a
noblewoman had to do for her husband from time to time regardless of how unpleasant
and distasteful it might be, and that the only true justification for sex in a
marriage was to generate progeny.
There was more to sex
than that! And even though she wasn’t
married to Jorge, she was going to learn more about this mysterious miracle
that she was beginning to experience.
And, yes, once was *not*
enough. It was something she wanted to
do more than once. And it wasn’t
degrading. It was uplifting. Incredibly uplifting!
Chapter 9: Town gossip.
Tessa’s household
servants noticed a difference almost immediately as their mistress returned to
her former, noble, self almost overnight.
She resumed running her household and soon was carrying on her
activities in the community the same as before her recent ‘indisposition’. Indeed, she seemed happier than anyone had
ever seen her before.
Town of Santa Helena
began buzzing with gossip about how Jorge Maldonado, the son of a count, was
‘paying court’ to Dona Maria Teresa Alvarado, the local Spanish noblewoman and
landowner. A few of the bolder of the
gossipmongers hinted that their relationship might actually be more *intimate*
than was proper for a woman of Tessa’s position. These rumors were strengthened when the owner of the hacienda
Jorge was renting hinted that generally speaking, Jorge returned to his
hacienda late at night . . . *very* late!
The time soon came when Jorge calculated that Tessa could
conceive if she lay with a man.
Scrupulously, he planned a trip taking him out of town for the number of
days covering what he considered would be her fertile period, but by this time,
both were so impassioned they could not resist the temptation for one last
vigorous tryst before he left town.
And then, when he returned a day early from his trip
because he had missed her, they immediately took up where they had left
off. Life was passionate and fulfilling
and Tessa had never imagined that a relationship with a man could be this
satisfying.
She was lost in a dream world. Her activities as the Queen of hearts were virtually forgotten
and she lived only for the setting of the sun and the visit of her lover. It was Marta, her faithful servant, who
broached the subject when the time came for Tessa’s monthlies to begin and
Marta had found no indication of the special hygiene and laundry that were
required during that period. The
realization hit Tessa like a gut punch!
She was *never* late in her monthlies! Surely by tomorrow . . .
Sunset came and Tessa invited Jorge to dinner. No mention of her monthlies was made, but
she was sure that Jorge had scrupulously kept his calendar updated. They made quiet love that night and slept
for a while before Jorge returned to his hacienda.
The Sun rose on the next day. Nothing.
Tessa
had heard that sometimes nerves could cause a woman to be late. She was sure that must be the problem. Nerves and all the stimulation she had
received during the past month. But
nonetheless, she had a long talk with Marta, her lifelong friend, confidant and
servant. Tessa admitted she had had
bouts of nausea for the past few days but had dismissed it as a light case of
the flu. The gypsy spoke at length with
Tessa and felt her stomach. Finally,
Marta concluded that she couldn’t be certain yet, but there was at least a
possibility that Tessa was ‘with child’.
As they concluded their long talk and Tessa
was feeling anxiety deep within her, word came that a ship had arrived
unexpectedly in port. It was a
streamlined ship used for speed to carry important messages, and was definitely
not a warship or a cargo ship. Everyone
in town was buzzing, wondering what was so important that it required a
messenger ship to be sent rather than the usual postings.
Tessa
briefly joined the speculation, and then settled into thinking about what she
would tell Jorge when he arrived this evening as he always did. She was surprised to receive the news that
Jorge was riding up the hill in the middle of the afternoon, coming to see her. She met him herself opening the door before
he even rang.
Chapter 10: He
leaves.
Without
preamble, he spoke.
“I
have received word that my father, the count, and my older brother have both
died,” he stated simply. “And now, I
must return to Spain and assume my position as count. In the time I have been here in California, I have enjoyed the
time we’ve spent together and would like nothing better than to continue
enjoying each other’s company. You are
welcome to return to Spain with me. Now
that I am a count, I will provide you with a comfortable villa and servants and
will visit you as often as my duties permit.”
Nothing
was mentioned about marriage. He was
inviting her to come to Spain as his concubine, a mistress for as long as she
continued to please him.
“Before
we can make a decision like this, there is something you must know,” Tessa
said. She hesitated, uncertain how he
might receive the news.
“My
monthly flow is late, and there is a possibility that I may be carrying your
child.” Tessa hoped and prayed that he
would be happy that she might be pregnant with his baby.
“I
was afraid of that,” he said coldly.
“That is most inconvenient. I
cannot take you back to Spain with me if your belly will be swelling when we
reach our destination.”
“Can’t
we be married?” Tessa asked. “We’ve
spoken about it. Then you can take me
back to Spain as your wife!”
“Yes,
we have spoken of marriage,” he replied.
“But that was when I was the second son, and unlikely to ascend to my
father’s title. Now that I am a count,
there are two reasons why I cannot marry you.
First, I must marry someone whose rank is appropriate to my own, and as
a minor nobility from the provinces, you would never be acceptable in the
Spanish Court as my wife.”
“But,
I’m carrying your child . . .” Tessa pleaded, her hands rubbing her stomach
which hadn’t yet showed even the slightest bulge. “If we are not married, he will be born a bastard! I will be pleased to accompany you to Spain
as your wife, but never as your whore!”
“Ah,
yes,” the count continued. “As I said,
there is a second reason why we cannot be married.” He gathered up his cane and cape and stepped toward the
door.
“I cannot marry you because you are not a virgin.”
Astonished,
unable to speak, Tessa watched him step through the door.
The End
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I would greatly appreciate any comments or reviews of
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