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 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.” 
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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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