This was a close call. Sitting here, wondering what I’d forgotten to do and whoah – it’s WipitUp day.
So rummaging around my works in progress folder, I thought I would share a WIP which is unedited, but I’m working on it, so it deserves a little airing.
This is going to be a spanking romance and one set in the English Civil War – a long war fought between Royalist supporters of King Charles and Roundhead supporters of the Parliament. Hester, a staunch Royalist has been forced to surrender the family property to a troop of Roundheads, who have taken up residence in the barn. Determined to cause trouble, she offers them strong cider, then things go amiss and she has to be rescued by Captain Daniel Hasard, who is not a happy man.
Hester sprang to her feet and scrambled past the soldiers. Each one came to attention, swaying on their legs as the strong cider took its effects.
The captain strode over and picked up the empty and discarded flagon. He sniffed the opening and snarled. “All of you?”
Hester backed away, edging towards the barn entrance.
“Hester,” barked the captain, “did you give my men this?”
She ran. Something make her legs spring to life and she dashed out into long shadows of dusk. She heard feet pounding behind her. The relics of leaves scrunching under boots and dead twigs snapping, sounding nearer, unescapably close. Hester stumbled, unable to lose her pursuer.
He grabbed her elbow, forcing her to halt and collide with his chest.
“Damn you, Hester.” He exhaled sharply into her ear. “Why?”
Hester tilted her head up and he pinned her down with his frosty blue eyes. “Because it is the way it has to be. If they’re drunk, they get into trouble and fail in their duties.”
“I don’t care about that!” He squeezed her arm tighter. “They are base men, away from their loved ones and battle weary. A young woman with a pretty face carrying a flagon of cider, did you not think they would misinterpret your intentions.”
Hester’s mouth opened then snapped shut. Her pulse quickened. When the soldier had gone to kiss her, it hadn’t crossed her mind he wanted more from her. “Oh,” she whispered.
He marched her back towards the house, away from the barn. As they came to a small clearing, he stopped. A lone trunk of a beech tree lay on its side. Long fallen, moss and lichen grew over the bark. His pincer grasp remained undaunted by her uncooperative feet and he propelled towards the fallen tree.
“What are you doing?” she stumbled and he snatched her back up.
Captain Hasard sat on the trunk and dragged Hester down towards his legs.
“Oh no!” She tried to peel his fingers off her sleeve.
“Oh yes, if that is what it takes.”
As he pulled her over his lap, she struggled, pushing away with the flat of her hands on his thighs and she locked her elbows, resisting his forceful manoeuvring. His lean frame hid his strength and she lost the battle. Her arms buckled under the strain and she fell forward and down, her loose hair toppling over her face.
The captain grasped the hems of her skirts, ignoring her kicking legs and unveiled them. She yelped as an icy draught of air knocked against the backs of her knees. Delving under her petticoats, he yanked them up. The displaced layers tumbled down over her back. She shrieked, horrified at her predicament – bent over his lap with her naked bottom raised.
Hopefully this link will pass you on to the next wipster, if not, try this link.