The Regency, Men, Women and Lust: The Regency, #1

By Charlie B.

When Mary Bolinbroke first discovered her fathers hidden books she enjoyed them so much that she resolved to write her own stories and to get them published. This then is her first penned work, a tale not only of her own lusty life as a young woman exploring the delights of sexual liaison, but also of the feud between her stepmother, Charlotte and the next door Neighbour, Lady Gormley.
I n keeping with the times, licentious behaviour rules in the two houses, all avenues are explored in her story detailing the bawdy happenings that prevailed in this period of time when rude cartoons by such as Thomas Rowlindson were highly collectable and when the strict propriety of marriage was often circumvented by wicked lust.
If you like a good historical romp with no holds barred then I'm sure this story will appeal to you, and id Mary were able to look down from on high she would be excited to know that her stories were still being read and enjoyed today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlie B.
• Release date: Nov 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310221392

Charlie B.

Well my name is Charlie B but you already know that. I live in the UK, Bromley, Kent, any GR peeps close by, friend me by all means. I write hot steamy stories. Why, well because if it turns me on I hope it will do the same for you, guy or girl! For those of you that might be interested my web site address is www.dollhouse-books.com. all of my books are individually listed there along with synopsis and other interesting articles. you can also sign up to my new releases newsletter and receive a free short story Commecial finished, please read on! I write a lot, a book a month sometimes even more and I like to do something different every time. Sometimes the sexy scenes are part of the story and other times the story is the vehicle for the sex scenes but one thing is always present in my stories, Sex! Most of my stories feature women as the lead characters, I liker strong women, women who know what they want and go get it. They want men who can satisfy them in every way, who can excite and give then totally fulfilling sex. Women today have found their freedom, they want books that excite and arouse, they want a hot read that will give them a thrill and why not. Ah, but I hear you guys saying , 'what about us? Well I know what guys like, after all I am one. Fresh young women, cheerleaders, raunchy college girls that are naughty rather than nice. Older women that bend the rules, blur the lines because they are hell bent on satisfaction and they will do their devious best to get it. In actual fact, although there's a possible division in what I write, I think men and women will enjoy most of my books as many sit in the middle road.

Book preview

Imagine yourself back in Regency Times, 1813 to be precise. Stagecoaches the fastest means of travel at some five miles an hour, or faster if the roads are better maintained, but not by much. Coal fires; Industrialisation in its earliest form; home cottage industries, mostly wool spinners, and society divided between the rich and the poor. The setting for our story is the County of Somerset toward the west of England. The Towns of nearby Bristol and Bath are thriving with new classical rows of tall, terraced uniform houses being built, and yet the poor of the surrounding areas are living off the land. A two-tier society that rarely mixes except where there is an Employer/Employee relationship, and of course when they visit the local inns.

Underneath the proper social veneer that high society presents is a pocket of licentiousness that is hidden from the public eye. Maids are fair game for their employers and the women of the house are not slow to take advantage of an opportunity to indulge in pleasures of the flesh which might present themselves among the hired hands or indeed the male servants either. The rigorous requirements needed before a marriage can take place are the criteria that most women in society are expected to abide by before any marriage, but in private? Well, let’s just say that these proprieties are not always observed. Well to do, women are expected to be married by eighteen years old but as we shall see when we read Mary Bolingbroke’s salaciously wicked tale, that did not stop married women or their daughters from dalliances beyond the marriage bed. Brothels and certain houses of ill repute were the frequent haunts of wayward husbands as well as their licentious wives.

So, here’s her book, published in 1817, according to the French publisher’s inscription inside the cover, and re-produced here for your enjoyment.

AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION (A FICTITIOUS NOTE)

I sat down to write this story at what some might, in future times, consider a tender age. I don’t know in what form it might be re-printed or if it is even a success in years to come but this is the first of what I hope will be many more stories, for I am resolved to shelve all thoughts of marriage in return for writing such racy stories for the world to read, in perpetuity.

I was introduced to the joys that sexual liaisons can bring some years ago. My music teacher, Robert, being a most handsome man, at first taught me to play piano to the best of his ability, at the piano that my now deceased Mother had once played and at which my Father decided I too should learn to play for some reason best known to himself. My development as a piano player halted after some four months, my development as a lover started at that self-same four months when I decided that I would seduce my Robert so that I could learn far more exciting lessons under his expert guidance than those at which I had virtually no skill.

Oh, so much did I learn as he or I played the notes with one hand while exploring each other with the other and the instrument that I was by far best at playing certainly gave me far more pleasure than the keys of that piano. What chances we took as he had me over the piano stool, on the piano stool and sometimes beneath it too.

For a year or more I learned that sex, practised cautiously, for no woman needs pregnancy at so young an age, is both fun and exciting, and upon my discovering, as you shall learn, of my father’s hidden French volumes, my curiosity was further still aroused as to the pleasures that new conquests can bring, as well as awakening my later desire to write such stories.

So here is my first book. A true tale of the bitter feud between my stepmother, Charlotte Bolingbroke by second marriage and our neighbour, Lady Gormley. Learn of how they vie with each other to secure the services of the local rakes for their own salacious and most illicit pleasures.

Of course, I have included my own adventures for your delectation, after all, one needs variety in a story as well as a plot does one not? So, I hope you enjoy this volume. Oh, how exciting to know that many years hence people might still want to know of my bawdy adventures and will still enjoy reading my little book.

Mary Constance Bolingbroke.

Chapter 1. The feud

My Stepmother, Charlotte Bolingbroke has returned home in a most foul mood. She flings open the carriage door with such venom that the coachman needs to calm the horses. Emerging from the carriage looking like Britannia herself, or maybe that scourge of the Romans, that ancient queen, Boudicca, her face carries a scowl that no servant or domestic wants turned upon them. She stands at the bottom of the carriage steps and lets her gaze roam in search of someone to rant at.

Every head is lowered, the liveried coachman, the butler and the ladies’ maids, who remain in hiding inside the carriage, having listened throughout the journey to her angry ranting’s, have no desire to meet her glowering eyes either.

Seeing no release for her ire, she suddenly raps her sunshade against Tomkins, the liveried footman’s leg, causing him to flinch but not to speak, for that would have been very bad form.

Tomkins, where’s Thomas?

I will find out Ma’am, your instructions?

My room, in an hour and make sure he washes thoroughly, I’ll have no blackamore sweatiness in my boudoir, none at all. He must be clean and presentable; do you hear?

Yes Ma’am, and what shall I tell Mister Bolingbroke? He said you’re to attend him when you arrive.

My husband? Tell him I’m indisposed until later. The damned man probably only wants into my skirts anyway. I suppose the housemaids are all in hiding? Yes, tell him I need some time to myself first, and anyway, I’m certainly not in the mood for a tumble with him. Not after that damnable woman openly flaunted my latest Beau’s at me so insolently. Sheer bravado. No, I’m not in a good mood.

Yes ma’am, he mutters, disappearing at a trot as a footman is supposed to do.

Charlotte Bolingbroke takes a quick look over the large Estate House. Some twenty rooms and a colonnaded front entrance that reeks of grandeur. Extravagant indeed, but one must keep up appearances, mustn’t one? She hitches up her diaphanous dress with both hands from its high line just below her breasts, eyes flickering in her direction because the sheer muslin garment she wears does little to hide those twin treasures on her chest from view and there isn’t a man alive, unless he is more disposed toward his own sex, who could refuse a romp with Charlotte Bolingbroke should it be offered.

The cause for her anger? In truth, as soon I learn of it from one of her maids, is not that Lady Gormley had flaunted the men, yes both of them at her, actually that is untrue because that act had further fanned the flames, but that she had previously sought out and arranged for their services to be available to her alone. Yes, again I must affirm that she had arranged to secure both men’s service’s as her lovers for the afternoon. Lady Gormley, it transpires had, in an act of near cuckolding effrontery, obviously hired them previously to not only service her own lusty needs, but too cock a snook at Charlotte as well.

Totally unforgivable behaviour in my stepmother’s eyes for she, having already set up the assignation with these two rascally rake’s, had put on her favourite dress. seductively sprayed her heady colognes about her person; applied light make-up in the newest fashion; tied off her short white stocking’s above her knees and worn little else. Nay nothing else in truth to impede the, hoped for, progress when their exploring hands might reach under her dress or else when their rampant cocks seek out her lusting, barely hidden, most needy treasure. Well that had been the plan, but all had gone awry in the worst fashion thanks to that woman, Gormley, and consequentially, Charlotte Bolingbroke is now, not amused.

Amy, here a shilling. Go see to my husband’s needs. Keep him well-occupied mind, none of that five-minute frolicking now. La, a rethink. Give him that new French thing, that way you will retain your virtue my girl, such as its worth.

Ma’am, the pretty creature giggles, gathering up her dress, and knowing that the randy man will at least double her trove for a job well done, she happily runs off. My father does so like a pretty wench to suckle his cock, small though it is, or so we are frequently told by Charlotte, and slow to rise too, due to his partial impotence, as I have heard for myself from the maids.

Her new plans thus put into play, Charlotte waves all except her other Lady’s Maid away to their work, then turns her gaze on the other girl.

Faith Lily, you may smile for after he’s done with me, you can have the blackamore. I know how much you crave his amazing prick you little slut but make sure he doesn’t impregnate you. Make him withdraw. Now then, come along girl, we may save the day yet.

And so, she speeds away. Lily her maid running behind, skirts raised to show neat ankles in buckled shoe’s and a smile across her face because the blackamore Thomas, as you may well know because whispers will travel, and those whispers tell that the blackamore is the best tumble to be found with his amazingly large prick. The maids also do tell of how he makes a girl sigh and scream so, as he drubs their spread muffs with its great girth. Well maids are prone to exaggerate methinks but what if it is true? Oh, get thee behind me my wicked curiosity.

Now maybe a little description of how matters stand might enlighten you, the reader here. Maybe you are wondering at the level of licentious behaviour in this Regency Period household of mine. Should not Charlotte Bolingbroke be servicing her husband first? You ask in wonder. How come she can get away with such licentious behaviour so easily, is perhaps your other thought?

Well here we need to balance the desire’s and avaricious needs of Charlotte, my stepmother at just twenty-six years of age, and those of her Master and husband who is approaching two plus a half times that age and is not, shall we say, in his prime sexually any more. Thus, one would discern that it would not be of much fulfilment for Mama to visit him first if she wants a good rogering since it would only add to her already bad mood due to his weakened capacity where such endeavours are concerned. So therefore, having despatched Amy to do her distracting work, she can now look forward to a far more rambunctious assignation with the seemingly well-endowed and far more vigorous blackamore, Thomas.

One must also surmise that by the time she might get around to her husband’s needs, Amy’s expert and energy draining attentions will have seen to his wants and have sated what little vigour he has. Perhaps in a not so proper manner, but such are the wily ways of a vixen when in search of her sexual satisfaction.