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 Above is another impression I had of Sir Ahibodeau. I'm finding it harder to search for "prince" than I am "old warrior". But these images help me shape the story. If my writing is anything comparatively like these pieces of art I'll be a really happy writer! While I'd love to have Cynthia do the artwork, her schedule is limited. Thus, I am thinking about talking to an additional illustrator to help with the load! In the mean time, I only have these artworks to give as examples.  If you are completely lost, and this is your first time here, you might want to start from the beginning. I suggest clicking on "Jack the Bodice Ripper" under the CATEGORIES on the right hand side of the screen. Or clicking the button below to start at the beginning. For the rest of you...enjoy! This is a FREE internet story for my fans. This is a fantasy somewhat historical called "Jack the Bodice Ripper" ©S.N.McKibbenNo part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents 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. If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. I'm aware of the tense change, but alas, this was written when I was young and tense changing was a thing for me. I will try to do better in the future! Thank you. Jack the Bodice RipperChapter 6 My nerves rattled. Fayola was due to arrive today! But duty came first and it was time to report to my office. There was the matter of paperwork. Documentation preceded every agreement. Sir Ahibodeau was scheduled to be here with mother in my study within the quarter hour. Which is why everything had to be perfect. Counting down every day, I’d kept myself restrained for the past four weeks. So far I hadn’t been tempted by any woman. My secret was keeping Fay in my mind. Comparing her to other women, I always found Fayola the better choice. Making headway down the corridor I had very little time to spare before mother arrived with my soon-to-be—father-in-law. The thought crawled down my spine. Not that there was anything wrong with Sir Ahibodeau, but I questioned how such a beautiful dove and obedient could be fathered by such a—stiff, commanding, over lord such as my mother's retired military chief. I would show Fay what a loving paramount is supposed to be. Our first night together would be glorious. Fayola, naked in my bed. Covering her body with mine. Stroking her sides. Tender kisses lushly placed on her neck and chin… She giggled. What a wonderful sound. My cock on the edge of splitting her in two, the head marinating in her womanly sauce. Tempered, gentle, easy increments pushing inside her, both torture and bliss. “Fay, keep still.” “You’re not hurting me.” My new wife dug her heels into my arse, trying to push me further inside her. I nipped at her lip. “Enjoying your purely sole event.” “What? Having sex?” “No.” I smiled. “We’ll be having plenty of that. I’m talking about you running rampant with the reins in bed.” Honey brown eyes laughed. Her heels lowered to my thighs. Warm hands slid down my side to my arse and squeezed. Clenching my butt cheeks to keep from slamming into her I threw my head back and moaned. “Woman!” Panting for control I glared at her. A warm smile greeted me. “Honestly you would think I was as fragile as your mother's china.” "Don't mention mother in our bed." I nipped at her again. But tempted to give her what she wanted, I refrained. A year’s worth-- Reminded of the time I came back to the here and now. It hadn’t been a year. Another eleven months lay ahead before I got a chance to sink my very eager admiration into her waiting legs. The more I thought about taming a virgin, the more nervous I became. Unlike popular belief, all my lover's were... shall I say... broken in? Unless I was able to soften the natural barrier that separated girl from woman, Fay might not have a pleasant wedding night. That was unacceptable. I had to find a way to ease her into womanhood before our wedding. Leaving a nasty impression for a woman’s first time would not happen to my Fayola. I wanted to find out how much pleasure I could wreak on her body before she begged for release. Slow and easy is what Fay deserved. At least at first. The guards opened the double doors and turning into my study I went for my desk. But my chair was occupied. Sprawled out in my plush, leather, red ass warmer sat, naked as the day she were born, a sleeping woman. Oh. Naked women, of the surprise kind, usually greet me in my bed. Not unconscious in my chair when Sir Ahibodeau and mother were due to arrive at any moment. The girl was young, tan and very tempting, if she were awake. Blonde curls covered her face and chest. Nice body. Taking a strand of hair off her forehead I recognized her. Darla, a shy, docile chamber maid. Possessing no special spark in bed sport, I had no desire to go back for more. Blue eyes fluttered open and looked straight at me. Mother’s voice echoed off the tile of the hall. Blast! Shy and docile widened her eyes. I covered her mouth before she could scream. "Don't scream." She nodded. “What are you doing here?” I released my hand. “I took a bath and now I’m here.” She looked down at herself and then tried covering her pert breasts with skinny arms. I scoffed. Like I hadn’t seen all there was to see. “What have you done?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Me? I didn’t put you here!” Sir Ahibodeau’s deep candor followed mother’s husky voice. “Where are your clothes?” She looked around. “I don’t know.” If Sir Ahibodeau found this naked woman in my study, well, the outcome was not going to be fortuitous for me. Under the damning circumstances, even mother wouldn’t be able to help. “Get out!” I said. “My clothes?” She scrambled up and scanned the room. There were no clothes to be found. How the devil did she get in here? It was too late to ask the guards. Mother and her knight were just at the door. Sir Ahibodeau exclaiming he was expected, but like good king's guard, they wanted my permission before they let even the queen inside. “Wait!” Shoving Darla under the desk, I pressed her against the cubby hole and put a finger to her mouth. “Not one word, don’t even breath.” "But..." "Darla, please, I will pay you handsomely to just be quiet. And don't move." Returning to my chair I smoothed over my short blond hair. I had a chance to straighten my doublet and look up before a guard poked his head in. "Sir Ahibodeau and the queen," He said. "Enter." I waved my hand going for nonchalant. Mother flowed into the room first and, like a good son and subject, I stood. “Your highness! Lovely to see you.” I gave her my usual bow and slipped around the desk to meet her. She offered both palms and I kissed the back of each. Turning to the father-in-law I nodded and smiled. Sir Ahibodeau bowed in an appropriate stance worth my station. An inkling of improvement since the last time we met. However, I was sure he thought I’d break my promise to Fay by now and begrudgingly gave me credit for my effort. “How do you do Sir Ahibodeau?” Aware of Shy and Docile under the table I moved back to check that she was indeed trying to crawl her way out. I sat, blocking Darla's way and shoving her back between my legs. “Fine.” The knight said. Short. To the point. Thank the whores of main street for abrupt military conversation. “Thank you for coming.” I turned to mother. “I know the value of your time.” “I always have time for my son.” The queen smiled proud and fierce. She was planning on staying for a while. As much as I loved her I needed her to get Ahibodeau out. Saying truth so blunt however, was never tactically wise. Not for nobility. Sir Ahibodeau may have commanded legions into battle, but my specialty was etiquette, persuasion and at times, blackmail. all the things that came in handy for peaceful treaties. Such talents required their own language. A language mother taught me. “My queen, you honor me.” I touched hand to my chest and then swiped both my eye brows pretending to preen. I never preen. At least not in front of company. Mother caught the communication and widened her eyes a fraction, telling me she understood. Without moving her head she darted her eyes around for the danger. “Please sit.” I said. Code for we’re not in danger but you need to get out. Mother pressed her lips in a line and her eyes accused me of treachery. I looked to Sir Ahibodeau who remained standing. Stubborn goat. Shy-and-Docile peeked her head from under the desk. I scooted forward, shoving the chamber maid back under the cubby hole. The thonk against the back of my desk, to which I played off as hitting my foot against the back drop, was poor Darla scrambling backward. Digging into my drawer, I handed Sir Ahibodeau the contract of my betrothed's terms from me to her. While he looked at print, the queen, stared at the desk where Shy-and-Docile hid. I swear the queen had four eyes behind her head and could see through doors. Knowing me since birth, she’d figured it out. I was not surprised when she contorted her lips to keep from laughing. Yet her eyes held such a look of disappointment I couldn’t help but give her the best it’s not my fault look I could. A hand grabbed my knee. I jumped and looked down, then up at Ahibodeau. He hadn’t noticed so I looked back down with narrowed eyes. The fabric of my clothes became very soggy. Shy-and-Docile said she was taking a bath before she wound up here and now I was her towel. She was waving her hands as if to say give me room. I sank back in my chair and tried to slide the pegged chair back. Wood on wood creaked. Ahibodeau glanced up. I smiled. He looked down, but the disgust of military discipline remained on his face. “Have you ever thought of joining the ranks?” There it was—his unspoken judgment. “I served two years.” “The minimum requirement for residents of Allsveil, yes, I remember.” “You think enlisting will help me remain true to your daughter?” I received no answer. A hand pushed on my crotch. That got my attention, but I didn’t jump this time. "What?" I mouthed to Shy-and-Docile. She gave me an exasperated shrug. And motioned that she’d crawl out. I shook my head vigorously—no! I couldn’t risk Ahibodeau seeing her. She was safer staying under the desk. Mother no longer smiled at me. In fact she looked near about to lose her cool exterior. Pleading with her through eye contact I moved my chair back to give Shy-and-Docile room. She tried moving through my legs to get out. I blocked her way with a knee which banged against my desk. Ahibodeau gave me a cursory glance and shook his head. I could just hear his judgement of... amazing you worked your way through training to combat ready. Remaining stock still I tried not moving to keep from gaining his attention. I would have to explain things to Mother later. She would understand. Ahibodeau however, would find this the perfect situation to yank Fay away from me. In the four weeks we’d been betrothed I hadn’t thought about any other woman. Not really. I didn’t know if it was the wait of having her or the challenge of winning that kept my attentions engaged, but I was beginning to pray it would never end. I’d never had so much fun not touching a woman. Ahibodeau was the slowest reader ever. Turn the page. Sign the document. Get out of my office. But manners forbade me to say what I wanted. “If you have any questions, please do let me know,” I said. “Yes, I do.” The knight waved the papers at me. “And none of it has any baring on this document.” Damn the man. Damn him to hell. “We should discuss it then, perhaps get some fresh air?” I settled my palms on the desk and made to get up. “I’d rather sit.” Mother said. Pausing I threw a dirty glance and settled back down. The queen of subterfuge was laughing at me. Alright Mother, if you want to see how I’m going to get out of this one, very well. “Your questions, sir?” I gave Ahibodeau my attention. “What guarantee do I have that my daughter will be treated with the respect she deserves?” Mother leaned to her knight. “One day she’ll be queen, I don’t see how that doesn’t command respect.” “Sir Ahibodeau,” I followed the conversation on the heels of the queen. “Why do you insist on these borderline treacherous avenues?” We were a team, Mother and I. Lobbing questions from all sides a common tactic we slipped into. “She was not brought up to be of such stature.” He straightened and cast a look to mother of such disapproval. And that was the sore spot wasn't it? A king, or a queen in this matter, was not free to move around a chess board so easily. She had consignments to make the nobility happy, least they replace her. But I knew what Sir Ahibodeau really meant. Fay was an obedient, taught to do as told. But my bride-to-be had more fire in her than her father believed. She would be tested against the wolves of nobility, but… “I believe you highly underestimate your daughter.” He narrowed his eyes. “How do you mean?” Toche. Sir Ahibodeau wasn’t such the stupid brute. He’d thought to back me down with embarrassment. But, it was too late to try and cover my lecherous past. Everyone knew about it. Grinning in my most lecherous way I said, “She can hold back an admiring prince—” Ahibodeau stood up, poised to strike me. When I didn’t move to meet or avoid him he stopped in his tracks. That’s when Shy-and-Docile pushed my chair back. To cover, I stood and leaned over my desk. “Perhaps you should take the agreement home. Look it over with your daughter. It will prepare her for her role in the future.” Shy-and-Docile started climbing out of the cubby hole. There was nothing I could do but hold Sir Ahibodeau’s attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother raise both eyebrows. She’d seen the girl. “Fine.” Sir Ahibodeau turned on his heel and left the room with a slam to my door. “Darla?” Mother said to the girl. Shy-and-Docile squeaked. “Yes, my lady?” “What are you doing down there?” I stepped back and let Mary out. “He shoved me in there.” Darla pointed at me. I pointed right back at her. “She was asleep in my chair, naked, I didn’t touch her.” Mother laughed. I took off my coat and wrapped it around Mary. “This is serious!” I was a bit perturbed. "You find my trauma an amusement?" “Darla?” Mother said. “What happened?” I jumped in before the girl could speak. “I had nothing to do with her being here.” Darla wrapped my coat around her in modest dignity. “I was taking a bath and then I was here. That’s all I know, mi-lady.” The queen sighed. “Do you know who put you here?” Darla shook her head. “No. I must’ve fell asleep in the tub.” Placing palms together, beseeching mother, I said, “You won’t tell?” “Of course not.” Mother stood and smoothed the front of her dress. “But you have an enemy of the jealous variety. I suggest you find them soon.” 
 Hey! Happy Birthday to me! My regularly scheduled blog happened to be the day of my birth! Huzzah! To celebrate, I probably won't be working! But, I do have Chapter Five of JACK THE BODICE RIPPER. The above illustration is a visual interpretation of Sir Ahibodeau. He is a knight of the queen, loyal, and Faye's father. In his youth he was a fierce warrior protecting the realm, but now retired, gains employment as a blacksmith. He is a Paramount, but as I said about Paramounts─the relationship is not always sexual. Faye is his obedient because she is his daughter. The competition Sir Ahibodeau and Jackson have is as an unhappy, potential father-in-law. Let's carry on to Chapter five of JACK THE BODICE RIPPER!  If you are completely lost, and this is your first time here, you might want to start from the beginning. I suggest clicking on "Jack the Bodice Ripper" under the CATEGORIES on the right hand side of the screen. Or clicking the button below to start at the beginning. For the rest of you...enjoy! This is a FREE internet story for my fans. This is a fantasy somewhat historical called "Jack the Bodice Ripper" ©S.N.McKibbenNo part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents 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. If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. I'm aware of the tense change, but alas, this was written when I was young and tense changing was a thing for me. I will try to do better in the future! Thank you. Jack the Bodice RipperChapter 5 My fair bunny scrambled to her feet. “Father!” I stood with nonchalant amble. “Sir Ahibodeau.” The knight strode over in his formal wear, cape, hat, and gloves ready to vacate the premises with the lovely Lady Fayola, but I had other plans. “I told you to stay next to me.” Sir Ahibodeau glared at his daughter. Lady Fayola cast her eyes to her shoes. “I was bade away.” Her father turned his malice to me. I was sure he refrained from a more primal advance, particularly drawing his sword and slaying me where I stand, and stayed his hand. “Bodice ripper—” Sir Ahibodeau took time in examining Lady Fayola with concern. The nerve. As if I’d ravish her clothes and have her naked in the garden. Rumors about me were vastly over compensating for the lack of exciting tidbits people jitter on about. “Has he molested you?” Sir Ahibodeau placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. Lady Fayola murmured her response. “Sir, I am unscathed.” His hand searched over her neck, feeling for bites I supposed. I could stand his insult no longer. “Sir Ahibodeau, she was under my care and no harm came to her.” Bushy eyebrows scrunched together as Sir Ahibodeau brought his attention back to me. “I know your kind.” He turned back to his daughter. “We are leaving, get your cowl.” Lady Fayola’s eyes grew wide. I stepped in front of Sir Ahibodeau. “Leaving before you pay proper respect to your host?” Three guards closed behind father and daughter and I was sure another three were finding their way to my back. Sir Abibodeau's sword hand twitched. He eyed the guards as that of a paranoid soldier. My bunny pulled at her father’s coat sleeve and whispered, “Please, you promised.” A thrill shot down my spine knowing she was defending her want to stay, to be with me. But a man such as Sir Ahibodeau, a Paramount that felt responsible for his obedient, would not fold, no matter how real or imagined, if he thought she was in danger. I would have to convince him it was more dangerous for them to go than stay. “Mother would be disappointed if she were unable to greet Lady Fayola on the event of her short stay.” “Lady Fayola Ahibodeau has been seen by you, that should suffice. Queen Tyilasuir is understanding.” “Not as much as you think, Sir Ahibodeau.” My mother’s voice cut through the thick of our masculine posing. Lady Sophillia past through the waves of guard escorts alongside my mother. The queen's mouth pursed in triumph. Opening my stance for mother to our conversation I bowed to her. The Ahibodeau’s bowed to her as well. “I believe you requested my audience Sir Ahibodeau. I’m available now for your daughter’s introduction.” Lady Fayola smiled in such a curious fashion, it made me wonder what she was thinking. Sir Ahibodeau took his daughter’s hand and presented his prized offspring. “Queen Lydia Tyilasuir, this is Lady Fayola Ahibodeau.” Mother smiled at Lady Fayola’s bowed head. “My dear, it is so good to meet you. Have you met my son, Prince Tyilasuir?” She offered a hand towards me. The dove recovered, turned and bowed to me. I in turn captured her hand and lay it between my elbow and ribs. My greeting put me in between father and daughter. “I’ve decided to be her chaperon while Sir Ahibodeau finishes his business.” The knight ground his teeth hard enough that his jowls went pale. “I am finished with my business.” Mother gave a toothy smile and offered her hand to Sir Ahibodeau. “Good. You won’t mind staying with me then. I have guards but, I find any handsome escort of my own is boon in my favor.” He had no choice but to take her hand. The old knight resigned with a sigh and nodded. “Anything for my queen.” “Ahem.” Lady Sophillia smoothed out non-existent wrinkles in her dress. I’d forgotten she was there. “Yes, my dear.” Mother waved to Lady Sophillia. “We’ll be headed towards the ball room. It’s time to find out who my son has chosen.” “But it’s not yet time!” I looked to the sky—and found the moon in her wane. Four hours had passed. My freedom sprinted away during what felt as moments. Time spent with Lady Fayola was no hardship. “It’s time enough.” Mother said. “All our guests are waiting.” Three guards on either side of us resumed their watch and paced mother and Sir Ahibodeau in perfect unison. Lady Sophillia cast a narrow-eyed glare towards my charge as we sauntered behind, heading up the rear of our procession. Beads of sweat rolled down my back. My nerves must have shown. Lady Fayola squeezed my arm. In response I flexed my elbow. Fayola giggled. Sophillia scowled back at her. Sir Ahibodeau remained much more refined and indignant while the three of us walked behind my queen and her escort. I pushed my feet forward, every step feeling like quicksand. Our ten minute stroll back to the doors and civilization was more like a walk to the Bastille. But whenever I looked at Lady Fayola, my mood changed. My steps seemed lighter. She scattered my turmoil to the wayside. Before we reached the doors Sir Ahibodeau turned to me. “It won’t due to have a Lady on your arm when choosing a wife in moments.” Mother looked back and nodded. Then she turned to her knight and pulled the him in closer. “Sir Ahibodeau, please accompany me while he chooses.” I stopped, Lady Sophillia’s eyes watching us, and turned to Lady Fayola. “My dear it’s been a pleasure.” She dipped her head, stared at me with those warm honey eyes in sympathy and faded into the crowd starting to gather around. I climbed the drudgery of stairs to the balcony behind queen and knight with a thousand female eyes on me. Who was I going to choose? Maybe I should just let mother pair me. “Evening my courtiers...” Mother started speaking. She so eloquently sprinkled her words while my mind raced. There were so many faces still here. By now, at any normal ball, rendezvous would meet in the halls scurrying off to made plans, husbands and wives would already bade good fortune and retired, rogues would find their way to a house of cats and cards. Not tonight. Not on such a momentous occasion. My breaths wheezed climbing the stairs. These years of sexual freedom was all over. Scanning the faces I saw Mrs. Eldridge hold her wine glass up, sending me a toast. I returned a nod and a smile, chuckling at the wonderful times getting to know our roles. I would miss her. Sophillia burned my retinas with intensity—I had to look away. She wasn’t what I wanted. But what I wanted and what the crown needed were two very different things. The twins popped olives enticing me to make a decision from my lower head. Then there was Ms. Nelly, the logical choice. Stiff posture. Never smiled. The prodigal daughter of a wealthy ship merchant. Despite her proper attire and attitude, I'd heard she could out swear a sailor and preferred to be called captain. But in public, she was serious and an unforgiving partner. “Bring up your bride-to-be, my dear.” Mother made a flourish with her hand to the hundreds of women below. I sighed. My face must have been calling out for help when warm honey eyes ignited my answer. Without breaking eye contact, I spoke in hopes that she could be everything—not just to the kingdom, but to me. I was taking a chance, but all other names were shut out of my mind. “Lady Fayola Ahibodeau.” Silence rang in my ears to the tone of panic. Glass shattered against tile. It sounded as a thousand pieces of sanity skittering along the floor. The outcry began. Chatter. Dresses bustling about. All the noise of scandal exploded in the ballroom. Ten guards immediately circled Lady Fayola, both to protect her and escort her to me. “No! I insist you choose another.” Sir Ahibodeau stepped in my personal area and ground his teeth in my face. Behind him, mother stood with her hands together in they way women do when coupling patience. With a knowing expression and pleased twinkle in her eye, it was apparent mother was pleased with my announcement. Lady Ahibodeau might have been her choice as well. Sly fox. “Is she sworn to another?” Mother dropped all humor and shot her business face to her honored knight. “No.” Sir Aibodeau blustered. “Then she is my choice,” I said keeping my eyes on my named bride as she stepped up the marble stairs. "No." The knight protested. "She is all I have." The queen stepped up to Sir Ahibodeau and touched his arm. "And Jackson is all I have." "She is too young." "She is old enough to come out into society." Mother consoled the father of the bride-to-be. "You should be proud she commands impart from a noble house." Lady Fayola glided onto the patio. “Father?” Sir Ahibodeau stepped up to his daughter and grabbed her shoulders. “No! Not him. Anyone but him.” “What do you find distasteful about my son?” Mother’s authority stopped Sir Ahibodeau short. The force of her command turned him around. He dropped his face in a mask of nullity. “Nothing, your majesty.” The knight bowed. “I had just hoped for Fayola a better—fate.” Mother raised her eyebrows. “A better fate than to be queen?” He’d stepped in a pile of road apples and the horror on his face showed it. “Your Grace, Fayola is but a fragile thing, an emotional creature. I fear the strain of…” Sir Ahibodeau wavered and walked closer to mother and whispered in her ear. It didn’t take brains to know what he said. I was sure he was explaining what a rake I was. Nothing she didn’t already know. Lady Fayola looked at me perplexed. “You’ve only known me but a few hours.” Reassuring her with a smile I took her hand. “You're asking yourself, why you?” She nodded. “Because I have seen many women and none are like you." “You have seen many women?" She teased. Leaning in, I dropped my lips to her ear. “I like my women─obedient.” It was a term she would understand, not a state a woman should be. She widened her eyes and then lowered them. “You are a paramount.” “Yes.” “You don’t deserve her.” Sir Ahibodeau held murder in his expression. “Despite my reputation, Sir," I pulled back ready to meet him in kind. "I believe in monogamy.” I prayed Fayola would be able to keep me faithful. “Monogamy?” Sir Ahibodeau laughed. “The standard of betrothal is one year.” Wonderful. He was going to invoke archaic wooing customs. "Yes..." “Then I will consent." Sir Ahibodeau straightened to his full height. "If you remain faithful to my daughter for twelve months to the day. If you do not, you will relinquish the bond.” Twelve months. The standard. It wasn’t like I could argue. His terms were not out of the ordinary. And yet, I felt a jolt of panic. “If it’s too much—” “No, it’s not.” I raised a hand. I could do this. Fayola would be my strength. “I want half a day with her once a week.” "Chaperoned." He lifted a challenging eyebrow. "You believe me to hold no honor?" "I believe, that your honor will not refuse tradition." Sir Ahibodeau smiled in humorless vindication. Damn him. Not being able to touch her while being in her circumference would be hell. My wedding night would be memorable. “Then it’s settled.” Mother clapped. “A wedding on my birthday!” Warm honey eyes melted my heart. This might work. One year. Twelve months. Three-hundred and sixty-five days left to go. This would be a long test. I was looking forward to helping her find out why they call me bodice-ripper. 
 This stock photo I found captured the regal glory I held in my mind of Queen Lydia Goththor. She's gorgeous and dangerous but without seeming too unapproachable. Queen Goththor loves her people and sees her position as a duty. She tries to instill social service as a virtue upon her son but Jackson does love certain perks that come with his high status. Below is Chapter four of Jack the Bodice Ripper. Hope you enjoy!  If you are completely lost, and this is your first time here, you might want to start from the beginning. I suggest clicking on "Jack the Bodice Ripper" under the CATEGORIES on the right hand side of the screen. Or clicking the button below to start at the beginning. For the rest of you...enjoy! This is a FREE internet story for my fans. This is a fantasy somewhat historical called "Jack the Bodice Ripper" © S.N.McKibbenNo part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents 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. If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. I'm aware of the tense change, but alas, this was written when I was young and tense changing was a thing for me. I will try to do better in the future! Thank you. Jack the Bodice RipperChapter 4 I had to say something before silence and social pressure closed the opportunity to get to know each other. “You don't really want to be standing here with these old men, do you?” “One of those old men is my father.” She quipped. Not such a good beginning. “I meant no offense. It’s just... I'm determined to spend my last hours as a free man with beautiful women, such as yourself.” “You must think yourself charming." She slung a white fan open and covered her mouth and nose. "You wouldn’t get away with such if you weren’t a prince.” “Yet, I am.” I smiled. “Not with me your not,” She murmured. I got the distinct impression I wasn't supposed to hear that. Still, I held out an arm, forcing good manners from her. “Come walk with me.” She hesitated and looked back at her father. “I have a chaperon, thank you.” Raising my arm a bit higher I leaned forward and whispered, “I wasn't asking.” I let the weight of my authority pressure her into the correct choice. Finally, she lowered her head and took my arm. Good bunny. I strode to the back gardens, where the magical moon and enchanting stars could work their aphrodisiac. As we walked she kept a hair’s distance behind me and never turned her face up. She wasn’t submissive so much as obedient. There was no lack of confidence in her stride, but she had the uncanny ability to remain in the background. She wasn’t demur as she was soft in presence, a true gem. I could spot her in any crowd. Full moonlight illuminated the marble bench overlooking a garden covered in purple shadows. The wind rustled over the lilies creating just the right romantic climate I’d hoped for. I turned to a beauty beyond anything I’d known. “What is it about you that’s so—” She raised those honey warm eyes and her soft expression caught my tongue and stirred my heart. Lady Fayola was the most open woman I’d ever met. Course, raw and ready for any whim. Her mind sharp, capable of handling my deviance. Not submissive, but a perfect obedient. Mouth dry, I wanted hers to replenish mine. But mostly, I wanted to test our compatibility. Push our wills together and see for myself if she understood this game we played. “Kiss me." She remained placid. “I’m not allowed.” “Would you disobey me?” Ever the perfect obedient she remained stoic. “I’ve been given strict orders, and you are not my paramount.” Her knowledge of what I was—a protector, a paramount to her obedient, proved she knew exactly what we were talking about. And my preferences. I was a prince, but I was not commanding her as a royal and she knew it. A paramount-obedient relationship did not have sexual connotation unless the situation was brought into the bedroom. “Who is your paramount?” “Sir Ahibodeau.” Her father. Which meant she was pure. Untouched. A true dove. It also meant there would be no penetration tonight. That didn’t bother me. I found satisfaction from pleasing a lady more with my own release second fiddle. I would have my desire, but for her, I would respect her boundaries. “Sit with me, please.” I guided us to the stone bench. Side-by-side we gazed up at the moon. I let the wind and the stars cast their soft light upon her profile. Fay's hair pulled back in a conservative style with escaping tendrils dancing with the breeze. “Are you cold?” I wrapped an arm around her. “No.” But she didn’t shrug off my touch. I leaned closer to her. Bending my neck, lips to her throat I caressed the most sensitive part of her exposed skin with a kiss. Lady Fayola tensed and a tiny cry escaped. The slight swoon bolstered my need for exploration. Licking my way up to her jaw I watched her squirm. Delightful lower thrusts of her hips raged the burning inside me. “Stop!” I pulled away fast as any flame to skin. “Oh dove, forgive me.” She wasn’t experienced. My affections might be something of a shock. Preening with pride, her flushed cheeks and panting breaths excited my wandering imagination. “Too much?” I skimmed a hand along her back hoping to stave off her recovery. “Yes.” I chuckled. “We’ll sit and talk then.” “Tell me something of your mother.” Sitting up at the mention of mother and not “queen” I softened towards the dove. “When I was eleven she asked for her birthday that I did not lie, at least to her. I kept that gift going past the year term.” “You extend your gifts for only a year?” “It’s been our tradition since I could understand what a promise was.” “Does that mean in a year you will annul your marriage?” I laughed. “No, I suppose I’ll have to keep my wife. My guess is that Mother will ask for children next year.” An escapee strand of her hair floated towards my attention and I twirled it with a finger. “How has it been that we’ve never met? I didn’t even know Sir Ahibodeau had a daughter.” “I was never allowed to attend the balls. This was a bit of a coming out.” “Ah. You were to be presented to the queen?” “I was.” She nodded, her eyes averted. “But you were leaving when Paul and I caught up to you.” “Father—changed his mind.” Perturbed I let go of her hair. “Did he change his mind before or after the queen announced my gift?” Lady Fayola fiddled her fingers and gave no answer. “Answer the question.” Though her silence proved the answer, I still demanded. “He changed his mind while she made her announcement.” Remaining respectful of both royal family and her paramount was impressive. She was cunning, and despite her absence of social circles, she was adept at riding the line of geniality. Good traits to have in a wife. “Who do you think you’ll pick?” I gave a long suffering sigh. “I don’t have but hours yet for that.” She perked up and turned. “You mean you didn’t have someone already picked out?” “No.” I shook my head. Eating sour lemons over choosing would be preferable. Her eyes widened. “So you truly have but a few hours to choose? Why doesn’t she pick for you?” “She probably will. No doubt she has someone in mind already.” “You seem dissatisfied with the process.” Looking into the face of compassion I knew she would understand. “I was hoping to marry for—love.” She gasped. Sir Ahibodeau’s booming voice crashed our safari. “There you are.” 
 "Old Warrior" illustrated by ArtofReza Is what I imagined Paul Cartell, the queen's aide, looks like. Paul is a character from The Spoils of Allsveil I incorporated into Jack the Bodice Ripper. While the two stories don't have much to do with each other, they are portrayed in the same world. Only Jack the Bodice Ripper happens about 100 years after The Spoils of Allsveil. Things have changed, the people changed, only the time period is different. Though Paul is a minor character and has little to do with this story, I incorporated him as a passing of the guard from one generation to the next.  If you are completely lost, and this is your first time here, you might want to start from the beginning. I suggest clicking on "Jack the Bodice Ripper" under the CATEGORIES on the right hand side of the screen. Or clicking the button below to start at the beginning. For the rest of you...enjoy! This is a FREE internet story for my fans. This is a fantasy somewhat historical called "Jack the Bodice Ripper" © S.N.McKibbenNo part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents 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. If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. I'm aware of the tense change, but alas, this was written when I was young and tense changing was a thing for me. I will try to do better in the future! Thank you! Jack the Bodice RipperChapter 3 Fayola stood next to her father, head down, hands clasped together. She was either a natural or someone taught her obedience. Real obedience. A placid woman was never my style. One able to hand over her trust easily held little interest. Yet I must say the allure of having one so open was a temptation. So was her apparent loyalty. She looked up and searched the room. Honey eyes met mine and froze. The thrill of the chase pumped my heart as if I were a fox in the hunt. She was exquisite. My imaginings picked-up where they left-off. We were in my bedroom, her spread over luscious crimson sheets. Peeling off the unbound corset, my hand reaches for her belly and wanders up. Parting the cloth from skin her breasts are milky white. Thick from want, my cock grows ever more impatient. “Is this what you want?” I ask. Mute, she reaches out to me. Lips eager to taste the buds of her bosoms I lower my head and suckle on those pink eyes of hers. When I pull away, I give lavish attention to the other. Both nipples stare at me begging for more. “Jack.” Broken from our connection I turn and see white hair piled high. Mrs. Eldridge’s beautiful, wrinkled face peeked up at me with a knowing smile. “Dutchess! How are you?” I try to recover. But by the twinkle in her eye, she knows what I’m imagining. In truth, I’d looked at her the same way in my sixteenth year. It took another twelve months to convince her I should be in her bed, between her thighs. The chase was well worth the effort because she was a challenging but eager obedient. Mrs. Eldridge looked to the lover I’ve chosen tonight and smiled back at me. “Oh darling, tell me we’ll still have tea when you get married.” A genuine smile spans her face from ear-to-ear. “You don’t fool me, dutches, you have plenty of young stallions in your stable to let go of one.” Her hearty laugh rang out. “Tell me my dear," I edged closer and whispered, "Who does the constituency think I should marry?” Mrs. Eldridge snapped her fan open and fluttered it so her lips couldn’t be read. Ever discrete Duchesses were such the feather in one’s cap. “They think you should ask Ms. Nelly. I scoffed. The dutches raised a hand. “Tut-tut, lovely. She would be a good alli. Good for the treasury.” “She’s an awful bore.” Ms. Nelly and I in bed would be a disaster. She was just as dominant as I. The pairing wouldn’t due. “Marriage isn’t all about sex, my dear boy.” Pinching the bridge of my nose I nodded to her wisdom. “How am I going to be true to my wife when I can’t even be true to my mistresses?” “You don’t.” Mrs. Eldridge sniffed. Casting another glance to Lady Fayola our eyes meet again. This time her gaze is reserve. My heart sinks. The trust in her expression is gone. She turns away, dismissing me. “I don’t…” A sudden moment of failure, rejection has me doubting myself. “Foolish.” Mrs. Eldridge said. “Marriage isn’t about love. Stop being so unrealistic.” I took a step forward. My chest pulling me toward Lady Fayola. Another ex-lover ran up to me, her gold satin dress floating behind her. I smiled the best I could and bowed at Lady Sophillia. “My dove, how have you been?” “I’ve been well.” She stood rigid, expectant, blocking my way to Lady Fayola. I stood with nothing to say to her. “Don’t you have a proposal for me?” My jaw went slack. We hadn’t seen each other for a month. All my lovers had enough experience to know I was never serious about them. Didn’t they? “Lady Sophillia, I do have to weigh my options, and I must do what’s best for the crown.” I peered over her shoulder. Sir Ahibodeau shook hands with his companion, turned and walked away, leading his daughter to follow. Paul, still by my side all this time, waited. I cleared my throat and said to Paul, “Master Cartell, would you be so kind as to give me an introduction?” “So that’s it then?” Lady Sophillia grabbed my arm. I glanced at her hand, soured my face and looked at her. “One must survey all options, my Lady. If you will excuse me.” She was askance, but let me go. Accosting a prince was done at one’s peril. Though I could see through the guards smiles and poorly hidden chuckles behind their shinny helmets, they were ready to escort her out. Sir Ahibodeau seemed intent on avoiding me, but I would not be deterred again. “Paul, detain Sir Ahibodeau.” Other men and women seemed intent on gaining my attention. But I only had interest for a warm honey eyed Lady Fay. “Sir Ahibodeau!” Thank Paul for calling out. Sir Ahibodeau was about to take the hallway to the main porch to the outside and away from the palace. “Yes, Master Cartell.” Sir Ahibodeau turned to Paul but ignored me. His expression could peel butter off the walls. Lady Fayola swung around, standing behind her father even though he’d made an about face to greet us. “Lord Ahibodeau,” I said. "Sir, Ahibodeau." His steely eyes cast threats to my person as he corrected me on his correct title. His station was of little bother but I wanted him to understand his insolence in ignoring an approaching prince would not be tolerated. To ease the slight to his title, I nodded, slow and shallow. Not a bow, but enough acknowledgement for a knight. “Prince Tyilasuir.” He bowed with enough respect this time. Enough to sway the tassels of his uniform. “The Prince has yet to met Lady Ahibodeau.” Paul said. “And I have a matter to discuss with you.” Finally an introduction. Sir Ahibodeau stared at me, his commanding authority trying to persuade me to shrivel to a prune. The dominance inside me meet his challenge. He did not back down, but he waved a hand back to her and said, “Daughter, this is Prince Jackson Tyilasuir.” “Please call me Jack.” I extended my hand to her. Her delicate fingers glided from her father’s care and a white elbow length gloved hand slipped into mine. I bent low and kissed her knuckles. “Lady Fayola Ahibodeau, a pleasure to meet you.” Her father growled low. “Bodice ripper—” I shot a warning glance to the knight. Paul swung his arm around Sir Ahibodeau and guided him around. “About the Lydia situation—” The knight turned his intensity towards Paul. “Not in public.” My loyal doorman stepped to a private alcove bringing his companion with him. I turned back to Lady Fayola. Wide eyes and stiff reception, I expected my reputation might frighten her. Such a beautiful bunny needed to be soothed, eased with calm words. She was a bird caught to stillness on the precipice of flight. 
 Princess by mannequin-atelier In the last chapter, Jack was staring off at an impromptu time towards a young woman in the crush. Her name is Faye and the above is an illustration I found that represents her. I don't have a lot of visualizations of Faye. It might be because I see her so clearly that I don't need a visual aide. Under her subdued vibe is courage and a willingness to please. In future installments she displays her zeal to try new things with our Prince. Much to Jack's surprise he is eager to show her *ahem* things. I wanted to portray Faye as innocent but not gullible. At first she goes along with Jack but she's quick to stop and tell him what's not acceptable. While I edit and rewrite this story I could never publish this. It wouldn't fly. It's whimsical and not to be taken seriously as a historical at all. But there are some aspects I like about it. For instance, I wanted to have some fun with BDSM-ish relationships but I understand some people back away slowly from anything with that stigmata. This isn't a whips and chains story. It's a power exchange. But that's not the right word for it either. Neither one or the other person has "all the power". It's more of a I like this, do you like that? situation. One partner takes conscious control of their exploration. It might seem like a "normal" relationship (and it is) but Jack & Faye get into some kink. Voyeurism. Boundary pushing. Relationship testing. Things adventurous couples like to explore. So if you like to explore... and don't mind a fantasy regency type romance, this might interest you!  If you are completely lost, and this is your first time here, you might want to start from the beginning. I suggest clicking on "Jack the Bodice Ripper" under the CATEGORIES on the right hand side of the screen. Or clicking the button below to start at the beginning. For the rest of you...enjoy! This is a FREE internet story for my fans. This is a fantasy somewhat historical called "Jack the Bodice Ripper" © S.N.McKibbenNo part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents 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. If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. Thank you! Jack the Bodice RipperChapter 2 I think it’s time for you to give me my birthday present.” My mother’s wicked smile held trouble. I bowed, taking her bejeweled hand and gave her ring a kiss. “Of course, my queen.” Every year since I could talk, my mother’s gifts from me were always something substantial. A ring, a necklace, a horse—anything I saw that took her fancy. A son showing appreciation for his mother. Since it became just the two of us, our tradition was that she would be given two gifts. One I choose and one she named for herself. After father died, I didn’t want her to go without her second gift. Strange thinking for a child, but it was my way of compensating her for the loss… and mine. When I was five, she asked me for a kiss on the cheek. Last year, the year of my nineteenth summer, I “gifted” her my alcoholic abstinence. Three hundred and sixty-five days without liquid courage. Lately, these requests were always things “good” for me. As she turned back to the banister, I cringed. Today’s gift would go via public announcement. “This year my son gives me his best gift to date.” Her wide smile cast upon the crowd. “The most eligible bachelor in Allsveil will end his reign.” “Here it comes,” I groaned under my breath. Sexual abstinence seemed fitting. At least I could have alcohol again. “Tonight, my son shall choose a bride.” Whirling at mother I hissed, “What?” She ignored me. “All eligible ladies will be considered.” “Tonight?” My anger barely contained. “Tonight! Not tomorrow, not next month? Tonight?” She turned a sly smile to me and waved a hand at the crush below. “You have four hours to choose.” Shocked I blurted, “No.” She lifted an eyebrow. “You refuse?” Careful, I cautioned myself. She didn’t often mix royal duties with motherhood but the pressure of social constraints and social power danced with light toes and a heavy heart. She meant what she said. The queen had priorities to marry who she deemed a good pairing. Her choice was fortuitous to most couples. Still, her forcing the issue, and publicly, was downright vicious. “What have I done to displease you?” The Queen lifted an eyebrow. “Hopefully by next year you’ll have a legitimate heir and I won’t have to worry…” “Low blow, Mother.” My hands balled into fists. “I’ve—” “Gone through every woman in the county.” “That is my business.” “You’ve sown your oats.” Her tone dangerously commanding. “Time to choose.” Face flushing, I was nine once more. “So I have to choose, now?” Mother sniffed and looked me up and down. “These women are of fine families, and I made sure to invite every single one of them.” Thankfully the banister was there to hold me upright. My head swirled. If I didn’t retain my wits I might find myself married in the morning if I passed-out. “My pick?” Sounding resigned, my mind raced. Operative word being sounding. It was Mother. My queen. My liege. My last living relative asking me to fill the family tree. Custom dictated she order me to a wife of her choosing. I knew why she was doing this. She was right, but, I wasn’t ready so soon. “Yes, your pick. Do you want my recommendation?” I glared at her. My choice was something. I feared what she might consider a perfect pairing for her son. “No,” I answered petulant as a five year old. She shrugged. “Very well then. But if you don’t choose by the end of the night, I will.” Heat flamed my cheeks. It was her prerogative to select my wife. In reality, mother was very good at seeing into people. She probably had a better chance of matching me with someone I might like. But, she might not match me up with someone who shared my carnal tastes. Since I had a new gift to give her and my abstinence was over, I grabbed a filled glass nearby and downed the scotch. After a year without a drop of hard liquor, the drink went straight to my head. Pounding little hammers beat from the inside of my skull. That was enough alcohol for tonight. Half of my mind went into overdrive trying to find a way out of this circumstance. Warm honey eyes looked up at me and all thought scattered like so many leaves in the wind. Sir Ahibodeau carted the beauty holding my interest as a chaperon. Feeling my time growing short, I bade my mother a bow and a happy birthday and plunged down the stairs. Both Adillo sisters rushed towards me. Wonderful girls, they were. The ladies were twins that shared everything, including their men. My night with the both of them had been an unforgettable one. But they were also mischievous and always tried to find a way out of their bindings. They succeeded a few times. After a maddening chase down the palace halls, I knew Mother wouldn’t approve of either girl. I was not so low to choose out of spite. Now that I was the one trying to gnaw out of the ropes of sociability I’d rather do more time tied in hemp ropes. “Jack!” Maria, the taller twin, smiled. “Why not a two for one?” I skimmed my hair with a rake of fingers and gave them a grin. “Ah, thank you ladies, but, I still have tonight to pick.” Dorthea Adillo, the shorter one grabbed my arm. “We could have so much fun, think about it.” They both giggled. Looking at them made me feel so old. Two bubbly women. Two of the most unsubmissive Obiediants I’d ever worked with. How would that go? Could I live like that? No. Paul, Mother’s aide, made his way down the stairs. I took that opportunity to excuse myself. “Ladies, I have to consult Paul for a moment.” He heard me and turned my way. Bless him. Paul’s watery eyes, and wrinkled features was one of the only non-threatening faces in the room. Every woman I saw either was a potential restriction or a potential trap. Some men with daughters eyed me in wary concern. Most men, at the prospect of having royalty as an in-law, brought their daughters front and center. They were finding ways to close in. “Your mother seems set on her gift this year.” His milky eyes twinkled as though he were ten years younger. “Do I look that desperate to get out of it?” Paul smiled sharp and quick. “I don’t think I could talk her out of it.” I sighed. “She’s been set on it for a while.” “Hints have been dropped over the months.” He noded with somber reserve. Our comrade and adviser was a stoic man and he would never admit defeat. Especially not from his post as Queen’s Guard, but as I observed his slight slouch, and his quiver hands… perhaps mother wasn’t just thinking of her golden years with grandchildren. “Are you ready to teach another generation?” I set a gentle hand on his shoulder. The old man straightened and pulled on his weskit. “I think one more.” He nodded again with gravitas. “Yes, one more.” My heart softened for the battle axe. No other would match his like. The warm honey-eyed beauty passed behind him and caught my eye. She stood demure one step in Sir Ahibodeau’s shadow. I turned my back to her and pointed a thumb trying not to draw attention to the fact that I did not know a potential Lady of high pedigree. “Paul, who is that woman behind Sir Ahibodeau?” He brushed his coat sleeve and craned his head. “That’s Lady Fayola Ahibodeau. She’s his daughter.” Paul grinned. “She’s available. But, Sir Ahibodeau is aware of your—indiscretions. I don’t think he approves.” “He doesn’t need to approve—” “Young man…” Paul soured his voice and narrowed his eyes. For a moment I thought he would flatten me on the tile. “You are not a God. You serve the people. Approval is what you should be thinking about. Not floundering about, ruining girls for the next man.” I knew when to shut my mouth. But pride jabbed me in the gut. “I have not fostered any bastards.” “That you know of.” Exasperated, I threw up my hands. “Do you have any advice for me?” Paul cast his eyes away. “When you find her, don’t let her go.” “Yeah, but how do I find her in four hours?” 
 Royal prince by leejun35 (on Deviantart) I've seen authors interview their characters and I thought, HOW FUN! I want to do one! But I never got a chance to sit my other characters down and ask questions. Primarily because I wanted to be the fly on the wall. Never to disturb them, never breaking the 4th wall. But, Jackson is different. For me he's approachable, fun, flirty and honest. He would give me sass, but I wouldn't fear for my life if I asked the wrong question. Even though he's a powerful person, Jackson doesn't solve his problems with violence. I might find myself high-jacked and sent on a ship to Outland, but I wouldn't die for asking stupid questions. At least, not right away. <<-->> So the next part is me interviewing my character. There should be no confusion... I mean, I'm not fictional. I'm the writer. But everyone else is part of my world. Oh, you know what I mean.  NOW ENTERING A WORK OF FICTIONAll pictures & illustrations are representations for my latest internet story, JACK THE BODICE RIPPER. So I was able to catch an interview with Prince Goththor, the actual Bodice Ripper himself, but I had to go to him as his schedule allowed very little wiggle room. Fine by me!! How could I say no to a trip to The White Palace? I mean look at it!!  The opulence didn't stop there either...inside it was just as beautiful..  The interview took place in Prince Goththor's study, but I was able to get a tour of the downstairs from Paul, the prince's aide, after my time with the prince! Such a wonderful man, that Paul. He was telling me stories and the history of the nobility of Allsveil! His reverence for his prince and for the prince's grandmother, Alexia, was heartwarming. He truly loves the Goththor family. Now you might be wondering what I was able to ask Prince Goththor and I have to tell you, I was quite bold with my questions! Really, I wanted to see if I could remove that indomitable smirk off his face, but the prince answered all my questions without a stutter. Only when we spoke about his beloved Lady Fay was he reflective. She's such a lucky woman!! If you want to see more pictures of the people and places of Allsveil, I've compiled a pinterest board here! Have a ball! Interview SectionI walked into Jackson Goththor's study and was shocked by how many books he collected. Both sides of his office were lined with shelves. Not just classics or academic journals but some wonderful pieces of romance. Jane Austin sat in leather bound among them. He greeted me warmly with both hands and ushered me to a plush velvet seat that was surprisingly comfortable even though it was a piece of artwork among actual framed pieces meant to be considered art. He sat behind his mahogany desk before a huge window that let us look onto a courtyard. The view of wild flowers, water fountains and sunshine cast me in envy. How I'd love to have such a sight while writing. After I get settled, finish admiring his office, and exchange pleasantries, I start in on my questions. Me: Prince Goththor, I hear you have a Prince Albert, is it true? Jackson: *Looks at me quizzically* My dear, I am exclusive to women. I do not have other princes. Me: Ah, no, I meant that I heard you have a piercing on your body that is used to keep certain appendages straight. *I'm blushing* Jackson: Ah, yes. *He chuckles* Would you like to see it? Me: Ah, no. Jackson: Then why would you ask? Me: Moving on. Do you still have carnal conquests, or is there a woman you could call queen in your future? Jackson: I already have a queen. Me: *Noting he did not answer my first question* But there is a mystery woman out there. Perhaps Lady Ahibodeau? Jackson: Mayhap. *He looks away* Me: That would seem like a fortuitous union for you but a hard target to pin down. Jackson: Sir Ahibodeau is loyal to the family. He's a respected knight and servant to Allsveil. His daughter as princess would continue to strengthen our family houses. Good fighters to protect the kingdom and a family from wealth, esteem and diplomacy to keep the peace. Me: You say Sir Ahibodeau is loyal but he doesn't like you for some reason. Why do you think that is? Jackson: Mayhap for my nickname. Mayhap he thinks his daughter deserves better. Me: Better than a prince? You're modest. Jackson: *He shrugs* Me: Can you tell me the difference between a Paramount and say, a Dominant? Jackson: *He ponders for a bit* A Dominant wants control above all else. Some like to give pain. They feel empowered by such, but a Paramount is more like a protector. Not all Obedients stay with their Paramounts, but Paramounts don't often stop protecting their previous Obedients. Even when they find a new Obedient. Me: Is it possible an Obedient has more than one Paramount. Jackson: Yes. Me: Is sex involved with Paramounts and Obedients? Jackson: The relationship is not always sexual. For instance a father can be a Paramount to a daughter. He is her protector. But, with unrelated partners, when sex is introduced into such a relationship a Paramount wants to explore new things with the Obedient. The Paramount will guide the two of them into new experiences. It's a game of what haven't I shown you? Me: But if the Obedient doesn't stay with the Paramount but the Paramount doesn't stop protecting her, that... just must seem odd. Jackson: There is nothing odd about wanting to protect someone you care about, even if they aren't sleeping with you. Me: Well, then, you must want to protect the whole kingdom. Jackson: *Leans back in his chair and smirks.* Yes. I do. There's a knock on the door and Paul rushes to Prince Goththor's desk. He whispers in his ear and stands back. Jackson: It seems my next appointment is early. I do apologize but *he brings his voice to an exaggerated whisper* it's a diplomat from Drakken. Me: Oh! Jackson: My dear, is there anyway we can continue this at another time? Me: Of course. We shake hands and I'm off with Paul. From here I learn the history of Allsveil. You can too. It's all in THE SPOILS OF ALLSVEIL:  Murder. Marriage. Forgiveness. The kingdom of Allsveil is the chessboard, and the royals are the pieces. Two noble families meet in a whirlwind of battle, conquest, hate, and passion. When a neighboring army conquers her home, Princess Alexia is forced to marry her father’s murderer, Darrin, the new king's young prince. While Alexia grapples with revenge and flirtation, finding her own strength in the process--the new king, Goththor, seeks forgiveness from his queen and from himself. Two generations learn that the game of chess is nothing compared to the game of love and forgiveness... Here we are at a new beginning! The beginning of another SNM Taboo internet story. It took me some time choosing which story to post this time, but I wound up choosing JACK THE BODICE RIPPER because I wanted to go back a revisit this cute little story. It's set in a fictitious historical setting where I borrow the world from another story I wrote called THE SPOILS OF ALLSVEIL. Jackson Tyilasuir, the main character of JACK THE BODICE RIPPER, is the great grandson of Alexia Goththor, the main character of THE SPOILS OF ALLSVEIL. And now that I have completely confused you, let's move on. I've always loved Regency romance, historical romance. The dress, the speech, the regalness (is that a word?) the majesty, kings, queens, peasants, gentry and all the aristocrats with the age. But I always feel stupid while reading these works of art. The authors know sooooo much history and research every nuance about language, customs, hell even how they had sex at the time. But when I'm done with those stories my brain is full and I'm exhausted. I didn't want that for THE SPOILS OF ALLSVEIL and I don't want it for JACK THE BODICE RIPPER. This is a fun story. Something dunce heads like me can keep up with. I learn a lot from the "correct" regency romances. The rich history of the time, the intelligence of the characters, the prose, wording... everything is beautiful. But I wanted to create something for me, that I would enjoy writing. I didn't want to get into history this time. I just wanted to write. So I made this world "historical" but not accurate. It's an alternate regency. A different historical. It's A KNIGHTS TALE with modern music and an old setting. But I added something in JACK THE BODICE RIPPER. A twist on the BDSM scene. There are Paramounts and Obedients. You can think of Paramount akin to Dominants and Obedients akin to submissives. What I didn't want was the automatic connotation that people associate with BDSM. When people hear about Doms and subs, they have this vision of how a Dom should act, how a sub should be and how they should react together. Yeah, I didn't want that. I wanted the relationship between a Paramount and an Obedient to not have the same label as Dom and sub. I don't call this book a BDSM book, I call it a sexual exploration story. One is willing to be taken into something unique and one desires the joy of showing their partner something new. Something exciting. Which is what Jack wants. Our heroine, Faye, is naive (not stupid, but unlearned in the ways of sex) which is a new thing to Jack. All he's ever had are experienced women. He's been tutoring under these women and now he can turn the tables on Faye and guide her. Her innocence teaches him the true meaning of connection. She also teaches him the strength a woman holds and how the most difficult thing can be to trust. So, hopefully, you'll enjoy the story as we go through the chapters. I'm working on the second book of the Notice Me Senpai series but I have allocated enough time to dole out monthly chapters of Bodice Ripper. Cynthia is working on Kai and Liam (the main characters for Notice Me Senpai book 2) and I'll have some sketches to go with NMS, but for JACK, I'll be giving you some illustrations I found that represent the characters. If you have any questions, leave a comment or email me! Until next time, happy reading! ~ Stephy  This is my imaginings of Jackson Tyliasuir This is a FREE internet story for my fans. This is the first chapter of a story called "Jack the Bodice Ripper". © S.N.McKibben No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents 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. If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. Thank you! WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT Jack the Bodice RipperChapter 1 So many dresses twirling around in the ballroom. So many opportunities. Tonight's goal—get two or three in bed at the same time. Horrible, I know, but while there was a certain indulgence in conquering one female, my lascivious tongue wanted a taste of them all. When I wed, at least I’d know how to please her. But before that day, I would push until my curiosity was sated. Ah, the issues of being me. Jackson Tyilasuir. Royalty. A prince. A future king. Wind instruments softened the accompanying sharpness of the string quartet. Aristocrats danced on the marble floor below. Being on the balcony, I had a perfect vantage point for spying bosom from above. The second floor made everyone look like a maze of ants mingling with each other. Suits pressed against dresses. Bright yellows, vivid blues, pure white and catching orange skirts fluttered around the men in an effortless battle for wealth, power, or favor. Lady Aspira danced with Lord Jenkins, flirting with everyone walking by—and I mean everyone. Ladies and gentlemen. She was a beautiful red-head without the temper and a joy in bed. But I’ve already had her and she me. Our sexual appetites matched, alas, she wanted more than I could give. Billowing skirts hiding the full shape of a woman. Absolutely criminal. Women should be naked. I resend that, nothing would get done if that the case. But in my bedroom, they never do keep their clothes. Oh, I give them back, but souvenirs—I keep. The ballroom is jammed with gentlemen and ladies from across the nation to greet my fair mother. A queen’s birthday is not to be missed. That and no one wants to disappoint Queen Lydia Tyilasuir of Allsveil. Me least of all. Mother ruled even before father died of consumption. No man-of-science or barber surgeon saved him. But a queen is not a frail mourner for long. Her lover has, and shall always be, Allsveil. The country of her birth. Mother griped my guiding arm and I felt her expectations heavy as stone. We are yet to be announced and she takes the time to chide me. “There might be a suitable wife down there.” “We’ve had this conversation.” Mother sighed. “I’d rather you pick, but you’re going to force me to choose for you, aren’t you?” “You don’t have to choose any of them.” I grinned with impish intent. “Wretched child, you are nineteen, already a sincere rake…” I’d heard the speech enough to make me want to drown myself. But down on the far side, a warm honey-eyed introvert stood by the battle-hardened Sir Ahibodeau. I’d never seen the lady next to the anti-socialite. Hell, I never saw any woman next to Sir Ahibodeau before. But I could see why he didn’t chase her off. My eyes gravitated to her curved form and landed on innocent warm eyes—staring at me. I pulled on the leash of my mother’s arm. Her hold didn’t break. “Jack, please, we have a ball to attend.” My forced control only created a whirlwind of desire. This new face, inviting eyes, and shy demeanor was intoxicating to the mire side of my soul. “Mother, you are a damper on my rakish ways.” I laughed. “Good.” She flashed a grin, primed her hair and nodded to the announcer. Paul, the door-man, announcer, and mother's personal guard nodded back. I'd deemed Paul old faithful because he was both old and faithful. The bags under his eyes were testament to his war days. His skin could weather against horse hooves and wooden wheels. His hair held no pigment. But he was ever there. Ever standing by mother's side. The queen’s sentry straightened mischievous children and fended off war mongering kings looking for my mother’s hand in matrimony… or her head on a pike. Old Faithful turned to the audience below the balcony. The minstrels halt their song. Paul lifted his head and called out in a strong regal voice. “Queen Lydia Tyilasuir escorted by Prince Jackson Tyilasuir.” All eyes were on mother, but mine found the woman who spread warmth over my body. Holding her gaze rubbed all others out of my vision. Mother’s usual commanding feminine voice dropped to a drone. This Lady I’ve never seen will be my conquest for tonight. Thoughts of having a ménage fly out my mind. I only want her. My legs itched to move, but I gripped the brass railing to keep my stance. It would not be appropriate for a prince to abandon his mother during her birthday speech. Instead, I think of getting the warm-eyed Lady alone, in my bed. What treasure would she leave as a memento for me? Her red satin over-the-shoulder dress is provocative enough to lure other men by her side, but she squirmed and stepped closer to Sir Ahibodeau when they approach. I shut out the other guests until I imagined only the two of us in my bedroom. Her sweeping neckline deserves the first of my lips... Her delicate skin tastes of butter and sugar. A lick of my lips and already I want to bite those shoulders and tie her to the post. Deviant touches over her breasts, a touch over their round top… a kiss… my fingers glide over her bosoms. My docile bunny pants. Want. Need. Her green pupils are blown out. Only a thin ring of green surround her iris. I was ready to ravish those lips, bite and tease with my tongue, but that was a reward for a servile little Obedient. Wrapping both her wrists in one of my hands behind her back, the dainty beauty is bound and mine. The lope of her ear is too tantalizing to resist and because I am her Paramount, I take it. Suckling the base, running my tongue over the ridges. She moans and I place a finger over her lips. As a reward, I take my hand away and kiss her. Deep. Searching. While strokes of my tongue plunder I push her back into the mattress. Her own probe is light, tentative and fills my cock to its full potential. Her skirts are made of silk and I use the smoothness of the cloth to spark desire, gliding my hand up her leg. No matter what fancy material a woman wears, there’s nothing like the touch of skin-on-skin. My little Obedient is a wanton creature. Closed eyes. Slack expression. I pull her upright and bring her close. My devilish smile warns and prepares her. I slip the cord-cutter out of its sheath. I show her the exposed blade, but she isn’t afraid. She knows it’s her trust I need. The edge comes close to her skin and the rise of her breasts heave. Lowering the knife, sharp point sliding down, snagging the cotton lace of her corset I bring the point to the lowest rung of the lattice crossed lace. “Tilt your head back,” I whisper. She exposes her neck, all the way down to the dip between her clavicle. Everything below my belt weighs exponentially heavier. My knees shake, my thighs ache. The thickness of my cock and balls grows. My Obedient is truly subservient. A lovely bunny giving me anything I want, trusting me with her life. A deft hand slides the blade under the sinew string holding her corset together. Gripping her tighter, my arm is swift and straight as I thrust the knife up and away. She is unharmed, but the obstruction of clothing to her breasts is breached. I slide the blade under her chemise and pull until the thin cotton rips in half. Easy as cutting pie. The knife clatters to the floor, freeing my hand to slide over her unblemished skin. I circle her belly button with a finger and linger my hand on its way up to cup her mounds. “Jack.” A masculine voice ripped me from my reverie. Paul’s voice brought me back into the here and now. I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been mentally undressing a woman in front of an entire constituent now looking for who has my sole focus. Including my mother. “Find something interesting?” The queen’s tone harsh but her eyes glittered in amusement. “You, honored mother.” I bowed to the woman of honor. The person where my attention should have been, instead of daydreaming. She laughed at my lie. A young laugh, a knowing laugh. I was yet to hear the end of this.   click pic for pinterest inspiration board for Bodice Ripper In 2013 I had inspiration to write my own style of "Knight's Tale" type story. As Knight's Tale is set in the mid ages with modern speech and songs from the 1980's instead of the 1580's, I set "Bodice Ripper" in Victorianish times with no real rhym or reason to history. Trust me, I know my history. I know it takes 15 minutes to get into and out of a corset. I've been in one. Want proof? I've got pictures. I know women were treated like property. I know what a miricle it is really to have had a queen on the throne (Queen Elizabeth) at the time. I understand the gentry's pressure to have a king on the throne instead of some woman. But at the time I wrote this, I was done with following timelines, what they *might* have said behind closed door, super secrete letters between Elizabeth and Sir Walter Raleigh... Blah, blah, blah. "F" that "S" I said. I want to write nonsense history. You with me? I've got an excerpt. Just click the Read more below... I also know the difference between a corset and a bodice. Guess which one I'm wearing and I'll give you kudos!! Faire people don't count. That's cheating. Front and back pictures to be sure. Guessing doesn't count either. Go to faire and learn some history. History buffs--you should be at faire teaching this stuff.
Yeah, I know it's not acurate. I know I should thread the gramets. And now you also know my bra size by the little tags sticking out the back, but I digress... Anyway, I made a pinterest board way back when I started Bodice Ripper. My protagonist, Jack, starts off a Rake--hence bodice ripper--but true love hits him in the heart. Here is the premise... Jack the Bodice RipperUnder the pressure of his mother, the queen, Jack's bodice ripping days are endangered. Frustrated at his philandering, the queen makes a one time request on her birthday for Jack to find his princess that night. Down to the wire a new face appears and Jack believes he's finally found a woman he can love in Lady Fay Ahibodeau. But her father, knowing Jack's reputation, challenges his potential son-in-law. Jack can only see Fay once a month during their twelve month engagement, and Jack is to remain faithful to Fay. Jack's stipend of time and his fidelity isn't in question. At least to himself. But the crown holds temptation for many of his ex-lovers who'd rather see him fail than be happily married. Please take note that if you are unable to let go of real history, this is not the excerpt for you. This story is for amusement only. Nothing here is based on acuracy. This is a WIP. I'm aware of the hanging participles, grammar and other mistakes. You're seeing a first draft. It's not pretty. I know.  Chapter 1 - DecemberSo many dresses twirling around in the ballroom. So many opportunities. Tonight's goal—get two or three in a night so I don't have to waste time with only one. There is a certain indulgence in conquering one female. But, my lascivious tongue wants a taste of them all. How can an aristocrat, such as myself, choose only one? Lady Aspira dances with Lord Jenkins, flirting with the men around her. She’s a beautiful red-head without the temper and a joy in bed. But I’ve already had her and she me. Gowns twirl, their creases hiding the full shape of a woman. Absolutely criminal. Women should be naked. I resend that, nothing would get done if that the case. But in my bedroom, they never do keep their clothes. Oh, I give them back, but, souvenirs—I keep. The ballroom is jammed with gentlemen and ladies from across the nation to greet my fair mother. It’s her birthday and no one wants to disappoint the queen. Least me of all. Mother ruled even before father died of consumption. No man-of-science or barber surgeon saved him. But a queen is not a frail mourner for long. Mother grips my guiding arm and I feel her expectations of me. “There might be a suitable wife down there.” Mother looks down at the crush. We are yet to be announced. “We’ve had this conversation.” I roll my eyes. Mother sighs. “I’d rather you pick, but you’re going to force me to choose for you, aren’t you?” “You don’t have to choose any of them.” I grinned with impish intent. “Wretched child, you are nineteen, already a sincere rake…” I’d heard the speech enough to make me want to drown myself. But down on the far side, a warm honey-eyed introvert stood by the battle hardened, anti-socialite, Sir Ahibodeau. I’d never seen the lady next to him. My eyes gravitated to her curved form and landed on innocent warm eyes—staring at me. I pulled on the leash of my mother’s arm. “Jack, please, we have a ball to attend.” She said. My forced control only created a whirlwind of desire. This new face, inviting eyes, and shy demeanor was intoxicating to the mire side of my soul. “Mother, you are a damper on my rakish ways.” I laughed. “Good.” She flashed a grin, primed her hair and nodded to the announcer. Paul, the door-man, announcer and mother's personal guard nodded back. I'd deemed Paul old faithful because he was both. The bags under his eyes were testament to his battle hardened days. His skin could stand against horse hooves and wooden wheels. His hair held no pigment. But he was ever there. Ever standing by my mother's side. The sentry that could straighten mischievous children and fend off war mongering kings. Old Faithful turned to the audience below the balcony. The minstrels halt their song. Paul lifted his head and called out in a strong regal voice. “Queen Lydia Tyilasuir escorted by Prince Jackson Tyilasuir.” All eyes were on mother, but mine searched and found a woman who spread warmth over my body. Holding her gaze rubbed all others out of my vision. Mother’s usual commanding feminine voice dropped to a drone. This Lady I’ve never seen will be my conquest for tonight. Thoughts of having a ménage fly out my mind. I only want her. My legs want to move, but I grip the brass railing to keep my stance. It would not be appropriate for a prince to abandon his mother during her speech. Instead, I think of getting the warm-eyed Lady alone, in my bed. What treasure would she leave as a memento for me? Her red satin over-the-shoulder dress is provocative enough to lure other men by her side, but she squirms when they approach. I shut out the other guests until I imagine it's only us in my bedroom. Her sweeping neckline deserves the first of my lips... Her delicate skin tastes of butter and sugar. A lick of my lips and already I want to bite those shoulders and tie her to the post. Deviant touches over her breasts, a touch over their rounded top and a kiss after my fingers glide over those bosoms had my little docile bunny panting. I was ready to ravish those lips, bite and tease with my tongue, but that was a reward for a servile little obedient. Wrapping both her wrists in one of my hands behind her back, the dainty beauty is bound and mine. The lope of her ear is too tantalizing to resist and because I am her Paramount, I take it. Suckling the base, running my tongue over the ridges. She moans and I place a finger over her lips. Then I take my hand away and kiss her. Deep, searching strokes of my tongue push her back into the mattress. Her own probe is light, tentative and fills my cock to it’s full potential. Her skirts are made of silk and I use the smoothness of the cloth to spark desire, gliding my hand up her leg. No matter what fancy material a woman wears, there’s nothing like the touch of skin-on-skin. My little Obedient is a wanton creature by the look of her open mouth, closed eyes and slack expression. I pull her upright, bringing her close. My devilish smile warns and prepares her. I slip the cord-cutter out of its sheath. I show her the exposed blade, but she isn’t afraid. She knows it’s her trust I need. The edge comes close to her skin and the rise of her breasts heave. Lowering the knife, sharp point sliding down, snagging the cotton lace of her corset I bring the point to the lowest rung of the lattice crossed lace. “Tilt your head back.” I whisper. She exposes her neck, all the way down to the dip between her clavicle. Everything below my belt weighs exponentially heavier. My knees shake, my thighs ache. The thickness of my cock and balls grows. My Obedient is truly subservient. A lovely bunny giving me anything I want, trusting me with her life. My deft hand slides the blade under the sinew string holding her corset together. Gripping her tighter, my arm is swift and straight as I thrust the knife up and away. She is unharmed, but the obstruction of clothing blocking my way to her breasts has been breached. I slide the blade under her chemise and pull until the thin cotton rips in half. Easy as cutting pie. The knife clatters to the floor, freeing my hand to slide over her unblemished skin. I circle her belly button with a finger and linger my hand on its way up to cup her mounds. “Jack.” A masculine voice ripped me from my reverie. Paul’s voice brought me back into the here and now. I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been mentally undressing a woman in front of an entire constituent whose now looking for who I’m intent on. Including my mother. “Find something interesting?” The queen said in a harsh tone, but her eyes were amused. “You, honored mother.” I bowed to the woman where my attention should have been, instead of daydreaming. She laughed at my lie. A young laugh, a knowing laugh. I was yet to hear the end of this.  And that's what I have for you this week! Let me know in the comments if I should continue this one!
Until next time...happy reading! ♛ Stephy |
Welcome to The Enclave Thanks for taking a look at my little hodgepodge of a blog. The format and subjects of my blog has changed through the years as it's my log of S.N.McKibben's writing journey. You've now been sufficiently forewarned, happy reading! Categories
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