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 Ripper
Under 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 - December
So 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!
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