Have You Had Your Risqúe Today?
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 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?” 
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