Queen of Swords, overpowered and raped

The Queen Meets her Match

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.”