Savage Impulses by Danielle Dubois

 

Savage Impulses
    By
Danielle Dubois
    (C) Copyright by Danielle Dubois, September
2013
    (C) Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, September
2013
    ISBN 978-1-60394-859-3
    Smashwords Edition
    New Concepts Publishing
    Lake Park, GA 31636
    www.newconceptspublishing.com
    This is a work of fiction. All characters,
events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be
confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is
merely coincidence.
    Langtry, Texas, 1882
    Marigold had thought that the ship that had
brought her to America was hell, but now she knew better.
    “No,” she said, tears filling her green eyes.
“Please, sir, I can't put that on. I won't!”
    Jocelyn Black, the man who had brought her to
this place, only stared at her for a moment and then shrugged,
closing the door behind her.
    Shocked by the reprieve, Marigold almost
collapsed with relief. After the filthy ship that had borne her
away from her native city of Bristol, and after the cramped train
ride that had brought her to the wilds of Texas, she had been ready
to prove herself. She was willing to cook, to clean, to haul wood
and muck out stalls if she had to. She could even read and write,
and she had thought that perhaps a man would take her on as a tutor
for his children.
    When she had arrived in Texas and been
brought to the batwing doors of Langtry's Blue Cat saloon, however,
she knew with a dreadful certainty that that hadn't been the work
that they had brought her here to do.
    The sullen gazes of the gaudily-dressed
prostitutes bored into her as Black led her up the stairs to the
tiny bedroom, and she realized that soon she might be standing
among them, waiting for customers with that same vacant
hostility.
    With a burst of frenzied energy, she shot to
the window. It was so small, but perhaps she could squeeze through
it.
    Just as she was looking for something to pry
it up, however, the door opened and Black returned. This time, he
was not alone.
    The girl was tiny, which made Marigold think
that she was a child, but when she looked up, Marigold could tell
that she was close to her own age, perhaps twenty or so. The girl
was dressed in the most flimsy silk skirt she'd ever seen, and she
blushed when she saw that she wore nothing under her corset.
    The girl looked up at her fearfully.
    Marigold had to restrain the urge to go hug
her, to get her away from the monster who walked like a respectable
man.
    “You're new,” Black said flatly. “I guess
your hide's a little too nice to mark up before I get anything from
you, but Maisey here, she's not new at all. You get those clothes
on or I'm just going to beat her ass until you do.”
    At the word, Maisey went limp in Black's
hands, sobbing hysterically.
    He held her up without a tremor.
    Marigold could see red welt marks on the pale
girl's shoulder, shockingly bright and livid.
    Black fingered his silver-chased belt
meaningfully.
    In the face of that black leather slamming
into the other girl's skin, Marigold's resolve broke. She nodded
tightly, expecting them to leave.
    Black slouched back on one leg, watching her
coldly and keeping the sobbing Maisey in place.
    Hot shame scoured Marigold as she realized
that she was meant to undress in front of this man, but the threat
of his belt on the poor girl's body steeled her. She stripped off
her cracked leather shoes, but she realized that that was the easy
part. Taking a deep breath, she undid the hooks of her calico
dress. She resolutely ignored Black's low sarcastic whistle as she
draped her dress over the room's small bed and unlaced her old
corset. Soon she was standing and shivering in nothing but her
camisole, her drawers and her stockings. Her hands were shaking too
hard to continue.
    Maisey squealed piteously when Black pinched
her soft upper arm. “Please, Miss!” she cried woefully.
    The girl's plea forced Marigold to continue.
Soon she was standing naked.
    Black made her pause while he examined her
from breasts to ankles. She’d