S.N. McKibbenDirty Stories. Social Taboos. Underdog Heroes.
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 "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. 
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